(no subject)

[onlyasign]

Who: Sufferer and whoever wants to mob join him
When: September 24th, early afternoon
Where: in the Plaza to start
Style: whatever you like!
Status: totally open

In the beginning, there was pain.

The arrow that pierced his side was not the least of it, but only the last. By the time its barbed head sank into his flesh and hit something deep inside, sending a torrent of cherry blood spilling over his hip and down his leg, blood that looked almost black in the bright light of Derse, it was almost an annoyance and nothing more. Hardly a little pang, after the constant burning on his wrists, and the way the flesh crackled and turned black under the heavy irons. He had lost feeling in his hands long ago, the nerves dying under hot brands and his fingers curling inward towards his palms, and the hot blood that ran down his arms felt almost cool by comparison.

And then, after his blood--his cursed, mutant blood--gushed away from his body and left a sticky, clotted pool under his feet... then, there was nothing.

No neverending light, no peace, no absolution. Just darkness, and emptiness, and a million years crying soundlessly into the void.

And then there was a jolt, and a return of the pain, and he was lying face first on cobblestones, soaked through, and this was all very familiar.

Sufferer looks up, his hair soaked and falling in his eyes, his bare back exposed to the air and still slowly running with blood. His eyes blur, and refocus, and he's next to the fountain, in the Plaza. Vatheon. He's back in Vatheon.

Struggling, he tries to push himself to his knees, but he's hindered by the arrow protruding from his side, its shaft slick with blood and its blue (b100) feathers tacky and standing up like little brushes. His hands are useless; blackened, melted things on the ends of his wrists, and the chains he wore when he died, his shackles... they're still there, turned a cold, sullen black instead of pulsing red, and it's hard to tell where the chains end and his wrists begin.

His mind whirls, remembering Vatheon, images coming to him in fractured, fragmented half-memories--Karkat, growling crabbily after getting a hug... Dualscar's fins, moving under his fingertips... Sola, asking questions with that plaintive look on his face... Zelda... Johnny... Jacob... Dave... Disciple... Spider... Psii...

Psii.

He tries again to get to his feet, but his wounds and the chains on his wrists are too much, and he topples forward again, groaning as the arrow digs deeper into his side. He's worthless, useless, he led them all down the wrong path, everything he told them was wrong, he's a failure, he's failed them all...

Sufferer looks up at the bubble's dome, his eyes so bloodshot they're red almost all the way through, and his jaw works, his teeth grinding together and the tendons in his forearms standing out as he tries to clench his hands into fists. His voice is raspy, his throat raw and choked from the last time he spoke, centuries and seconds before.

He throws his head back and screams at the bubble's dome. "FUUUUUUUUCK!"

His voice ripples and echoes back to him, distorted, animalistic, the cry of a brute instead of a savior. Slowly, he bends back over his chained wrists, resting his forehead on the irons, and the red that stains the cold steel is not blood this time.

"...fuck."

Comments

[bestestfurrend]

Nepeta is out and about celebrating being back in her rightful body once again, nigh on skipping her way across the square towards her favourite ice cream shop. They would probably have to call Equius in to calm her down when she gets upset over not knowing what flavour to choose (again), but they know her well enough over there that it's all in a day's work for them, really.

The smell hits her only seconds before the scream does.

Reminiscent of comfort and yet shot through with pain and blood and burnt flesh, it's a good thing she has a strong stomach from hunting or she'd be retching at the overwhelming stench.

"Signless?! Signless!!" Her scream is nearly as loud as his when she finally catches sight of him, throwing herself to her knees on the ground next to him and gasping in horror, afraid to touch him in case he broke apart in front of her. No, no, no!

[onlyasign]

Sufferer winces at the sound of that scream--even in the extremities of his own pain, he recognizes her voice, the sound of her suffering--and he glances up when she collapses beside him.

"It's... it's nothing, Nep... just leave... leave me here."

[bestestfurrend]

Signless, she isn't blind, she can see that this is very far from nothing! "You're hurt, oh no, you're so hurt, what did they do to you, what did they do?!" She's half snarling with the need to protect him and to hurt those who'd treat him this way - and with her complete and utter helplessness to do anything useful right now.

"I won't leave you, I won't! Not ever!" She gets out her SFC, fumbling at it as she tries to think who to call for help, who'd even know what to do about this.

[onlyasign]

Signless makes a rough, chortling sound that's almost like the memory of a laugh, and struggles to get his arms under him, groaning as he jostles the arrow in his side.

"They did... to me... what they'll do... to you. If you don't... if you don't run." It's all so foggy, so unclear in his mind, that he's not sure if he's talking to Nepeta, Disciple, or a hallucination.

[420]

Going to the coral every day has become such a routine for Gamzee he doesn't even need to think about it anymore, can't even really forget it anymore. It's just something that gets done each day after his first, sometimes his second dose of slime. Sometimes he picks up some company on the way, sometimes he goes alone. It's not a big deal. Even if he is alone it is fun to wander a little sometimes, see what everybody is up to.

This time though when he nears the coral, his ears prick at the cry, and brows furrow a little. He knows his moirail's voice best as he knows anything and that was it, right? All raspy and angry and sounding like nothing he should pass by. His pace shifts slightly, becoming more determined and focused rather than just lazily drifting, and the remaining distance to the coral is easily closed. But when he gets there, there is no angry Karkat in need of a good shoosh waiting for him. Nothing of the sort. The sad heap of troll in front of the coral is definitely not his moirail, but not some motherfucker he don't know either.

His concern still visible on his face, he walks the short distance to Signless, crouching down. Well, he had been expecting Signless to be back some time, sure --he just had a feeling like that okay-- but he hadn't expected him to all be coming back a sad motherfuckin' heap of waste like this.

Reaching in, he brushes his fingers against his hair. "Brother?"

[onlyasign]

Sufferer shies away, biting his lower lip as a fresh wave of pain stabs through him; he doesn't want Gamzee touching him right now, not when he's like this, not after everything he's just seen and gone through. Some time in the future, he will feel horrible about his reaction, but right now, all he can think is that if an indigo touches him right now, he'll start screaming and never be able to stop.

"Don't. Don't... don't touch me."

[420]

Gamzee's hand drops to the pavement. This isn't like Karkat's struggling a little against his hugs, which is more like a motherfuckin' game cause they both know Karkat really fuckin' needs a hug anyway. This is raw and pained and if Signless doesn't want to be touched than Gamzee don't need to be laying prong on him.

"Aight." A pause. "You alright?"

[onlyasign]

Sufferer makes a choking sound that might be sardonic laughter, and spits a glob of blood out onto the ground. He thinks about trying to get up, but it's just too much effort.

"You're not... stupid. What do... what do you think?"

[replicatedcourage]

[The sudden profane scream startles Sola on his way down the path to the plaza and he looks around wildly for the source, hand going to the hilt of his sword. He'd come to get-

It doesn't matter what he'd come to get. It doesn't matter in the slightest as Sola lays eyes on that familiar form huddled in the shadow of the coral. Tears well up in his eyes, chest growing tight as he drops his hands from his weapons and takes a step froward.

And then another.

And his feet are pounding on the cobbles as he races to the Troll's side, everything else forgotten in the torrent of emotion at seeing his mentor, his friend, his father again. He registers nothing else, not even Signless' wounds in the haze of tears as he throws his arms around hunched shoulders.]

Dad!

[onlyasign]

[Sufferer jolts when Sola collides with him, and anything he might have said is lost as he coughs up a glut of half-clotted blood onto the cobblestones of the Plaza.]

[replicatedcourage]

[A yelp escapes Sola as he sees the blood splatter, sending the state that Signless is in into sharp detail. The bloodied wound at his side, the cauterized stumps of hands barely visible through the strange cuffs...

Sola's stomach drops and he fumbles for his SFC, having to redial several times before finally getting a message to Zelda like he wants.]

Zelda!! Zelda, Signless is hurt! You have to come to the coral now! Right now! Hurry!

[He swallows, putting his SFC down to rummage in his sylladex for a red potion, hand shaking as he keeps making mistakes in his puzzle to get at the healing elixir.]

I-it'll be okay, Zelda will heal you, everything'll be okay s-so just take it easy. I have a potion, I just can't... damnit!

[His hands are shaking too badly, his eyes still partially blinded by tears of worry and panic. He can't solve the puzzle to get out his potion like this.]

[onlyasign]

[Signless? Who is Signless? He's the Sufferer, made to suffer, born to be tortured and die in irons.]

[Sufferer falls over onto his side and lays there, watching apathetically as the boy fumbles with a sylladex. Since when do humans have sylladexes? Somehow, though, this seems very familiar, and as he watches, his feverish mind picks out the pattern Sola is having trouble with.]

[He reaches up, his arm muscles shaking with the effort, and pokes at the sylladex with the blackened claws that were once his fingers. Just a little more... and it should click into place...]

[fintastic]

It would take a lot of effort not to overhear the expletive issued forth from the plaza. Feferi, out on her usual daily errands, makes no hesitation in changing her course away from the Marketplace. Someone could be hurt, or could be in the process of getting hurt, or could be in the process of hurting others, and she's at the ready to exchange her shopping bag for her culling fork at a moment's notice.

When she arrives on scene, she looks around, and spots what has to be her target immediately, the only one there who looks like they could have uttered such a pitiful sound. Those horns, though.

The last troll she expected to see show up again was him, but that doesn't stop her from nearly throwing herself down at the ground next to him, kneeling on the cobblestones and ripping the knees of a pair of pink striped stockings she'd decided to wear today. Gingerly pressing a hand to his shoulder, and trying to get a visual appraisal of what could be ailing the kindest, gentlest troll she's ever known, she doesn't like at all what she notices.

"Signless? Hey, are you okay...?" Not that she doesn't know the answer to that, but what else is she supposed to say? She can tell he's hurt, but she needs to know how coherent he is before she can even think about what to do with him.

[onlyasign]

This is something else he'll be ashamed of later, but right now he's in too much pain, too much mental anguish, to do anything but react instinctively. He tries to push her away from him, forgetting that his hands are still cuffed together and nearly upsetting his precarious balance, and hisses at her, his upper lip drawn over his fangs.

His apologies, Feferi... but you just look too much like the Condesce right now.

[fintastic]

It's enough to make Feferi draw back a little, but not back off entirely. It catches her off guard but doesn't offend her, nor does it get her to leave. She puts her hand back to his shoulder, and tries to look him in the eyes.

"I'm here to help you," she reassures him, as gentle as she knows how to be, but still fraught with concern. "Let me see your arms."

[onlyasign]

"Here to finish... what your Executor started!" He tries again to swipe her hand off his shoulder, and this time he really does overbalance, crashing to his side and then laying there, too weak to get up.

[aim_exorable]

With all the murders which have been occurring recently, Darkleer has taken to spending more time outside in the city than he normally would have bothered with. It would figure that the deceiving peace of this city would melt away at some point. So he slips through the shifting shadows of the city, invisible, a no one, not even a gust of air. He has his boys to watch over, after all, and a few others he favors. He refuses to let anything happen to them again.

So when he hears that scream- something familiar that seems to make his very heart vibrate behind the curve walls of his ribcage- he nearly jumps out of his skin with how tense he is already. Without a second thought, he twists on his heel and dashes through the city to reach it.

But despite the familiarity of it... For some reason, he doesn't think of that original screamer, that martyred prophet. He thinks of someone else, he thinks perhaps of the Vantas boy perhaps, or... Anyone but him. Because he was gone. He was supposed to be gone.

When he comes to the shadows that surround the plaza, he immediately comes to a halt. He must be hallucinating. His wretched sleep schedule is coming back to bite him, now, and he's hallucinating this blasted troll who has left such an imprint on him, who always does even when...

After a moment, Darkleer realizes that this isn't an hallucination. And he realizes that, even as much as he wishes this troll never came back, he still needs to go to him. Because his own feelings don't matter. He supposes they never mattered.

Dismissing Archermedes, he takes long quick strides to the curled up figure in the middle of the plaza. Crouching besides him, it makes him sick to recognize that arrow in the others side- he recognizes that arrow, he saw it break one emotion draining evening, gave its head away and left the fetching to be washed away. He supposes sins can't be rid of so easily.

"Lay down. Let me see the damage."

[onlyasign]

Him. Sufferer knows that voice, knows the sound of that heavy tread and the troll that's coming towards him. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he pushes himself to his knees with the irons around his wrists, rocking backward and away from the blueblood. When he speaks to him, he hisses from between fangs clenched so hard they're almost breaking.

"Fuck off, Executor."

[aim_exorable]

Executor.

Hearing it from anyone else, it could be dismissed. But from this troll, the very same troll who once held him and told him he could choose a new title, a new life, it... Why does it feel like some sort of betrayal? It was not as if they had even parted on good terms. They had both been so angry at one another, what does it even matter? The twisted and confused hate that Darkleer had when Signless initially arrived in this city comes back in a slightly new form.

He hates this troll, and he hates how he makes him feel.

...But he doesn't hate Disciple. And he knows it would break her heart to see her beloved like this. So he grits his own teeth together and just reaches over, intending to grab the other and just force him into his arms so he can pick him up. "No." For a moment, it comes to mind that he might not remember anything of Vatheon, and he thinks of Dualscar. Poor, stupid fishtroll. Just another heartbreak for him, it seems.

[onlyasign]

Forgive him, Darkleer. It was Signless who told you those things, and this is Sufferer. Signless was innocent, and naive, and was only looking at his own death as a concept. Sufferer has experienced it, and what comes after, and it's hard to remain optimistic and grateful when everything you've ever believed turns out to be a lie.

He snarls as the bigger troll looms over him, but he's too weak and burdened to make much of an escape attempt. He shrieks again when Darkleer picks him up, the arrow in his side grinding against something deep in his guts, and thrashes weakly, trying fruitlessly to get away.

"Just... just let me... let me die! Thought... thought you were... a professional!"

[nos_servabit]

No. No.

He's just walking along, calm smile as usual, when he can feel it. The pain, the suffering, and it itches along his spine and digs deep in, and Jacob has to literally stop because it's horrible.

He makes his way over to the plaza, completely forgetting about anything he was going to do. And then he sees that heap of what was once a proud being. A leader, a speaker of peace, one of the only people who really understood Jacob's beliefs about the world.

No.

He goes over to him, eyes creased with the utmost concern, and then bends down and just embraces him, not particularly caring if the blood is currently staining his clothes right now.

"I'm so sorry," he says, quietly, meaning every single word. "I'm so sorry this happened to you..."

[onlyasign]

There isn't much Sufferer remembers right now: he knows where he is, and has the vaguest memories of humans and what they're like, but most of Vatheon is a blur. But he remembers Jacob, and the warm, safe feeling of having him around. When the human embraces him, he sags against him, trusting and complacent like he's been with no one else.

"Help me," he mutters. "Please... help me."

Sorry... I'm the latest

[closedcircuit]

It's the scream that Ky can't help hearing, can't help responding to. It's the middle of the day, but that's when Lloyd went missing, after all, so it could be the murderer.

He doesn't slow when he sees that the figure at the coral is on his own, because there's blood and too much of it, and that cry had still been pained. He only slows enough so that he can stop when he's close, bending to the figure's side.

"Signless... It's going to be okay." It had to be.

[onlyasign]

Sufferer coughs, spitting up a mouthful of blood, and looks up at Ki through heavily lidded, feverish eyes. "It was all a lie, Ky... all of it. Everything we talked about, it's all wrong."

[closedcircuit]

"That's surely not true." Ky stays where he is, certain that Signless needs medical help. "But don't worry about it now, we can talk once you've been patched up a little."