Entry tags:
week 1 execution
W1: EXECUTION
In the morning at 12:30pm sharp, you hear the intercom speakers blare loudly across the entire airport, perfectly audible no matter where you are.
Hopefully that’s not quite as long a trek as Saturday for you. All the same, you are propelled by that same sensation to come to the Flight Deck. Your feet carry you past that glass doors onto the outdoor terrace, where the benches and quaint planters await. Why, it’d look almost serene if not for the fact that one of you appears to be missing. There’s really only one place they could be, isn’t there? Your gaze might eventually settle over the runway you can see out below—the view is great from up here.
While you're not forcibly rooted to your seats, there's no way out. The glass doors close behind the last person and refuse to budge, and the viewing glass is just as unbreakable. As for any open areas, the invisible forcefield is working so very hard on this Sunday.
Oh, and because I’m sure this is the most pressing question on your mind: yes, Allstars Coffee is still serving hot beverages and small baked eats, even during execution. That’s what you need during stressful situations, right? More commemoration ASS caffeine? Yes, we thought so. You’re welcome.
In just a few minutes, the combatants approach, as helpful screens light up to further help you understand today's proceedings.
CULPRIT
EXECUTIONER
Allstars——prepare for sendoff!!
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(which is good, because he'll need it, considering what they're all here for. he'll probably be fine. if nothing else-- he's survived a fight for his life, and he knows that he can, now.)
blood smears red against the white of her hair, before more of it spills from her throat; her breath catches, a gasp turning to an uglier sound, the pain of it sharp and unavoidable.
it isn't immediate, but it will be fast enough. her grip on the shard loosens, blood dripping from her hand where she'd held it tight.
the figure in the white dress speaks: ''Wiš'adel,' she says. It means to 'Wish'.
there's an echo of her own voice again. To wish... for a home.
the woman nods. Yes. Kazdel's destiny— could you witness it, in my stead?
-But I... you-
-Kazdel's future is in your hands. Not mine, nor Theresis's. You'll understand when the day comes.
kazdel's future. the land's future. what else would anything be for?
she can't say anything; she just closes her eyes, going limp as the rest of her life bleeds from her, before wiš'adel is dead.]
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Did Wiš'adel ever find a home? Or did he tear it from her like everything had always been torn from his hands. Violence upon violence upon violence.
Eventually, he rolls over, not particularly aware of how the crystal still embedded in his body grinds against the concrete as he moves. For a few paces, Kaworu crawls, still gripping the knife, before managing to swing a leg forward and stand with all the strength of a newborn fawn.
He grips the knife tightly against his person as if trying to stop it being taken from him and starts to walk. There's blood in his mouth. Blood keeps dripping into his eyes. He can feel it running down his leg into his shoe. Only some of it is his.
There's so much out in the distance, just beyond the runway. It's so open. It reminds him of first coming to Faerûn and trying to reconcile the impossible amount of freedom at his fingertips. He could walk towards that open space, just try to get there, it doesn't matter if he fails.
But... they won't let me die here. He knows that and he coughs a bitter laugh. So instead, he just keeps walking towards the terminal, hoping he can make it to the First Aid room before he collapses and before anyone tries to help.
He doesn't make it. He knows people will come for him and take him the rest of the way. A part of him wishes they wouldn't but what can he do now.]
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But in the end, she silently rushes towards Kaworu. Let's get you fixed up sweet angel boy]
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anyway yeah he's following other people down just to make sure he doesn't die but also ah??? ahhh!!! ]
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