Death of Kin (4/14)

[00:02:23]
There's new blood. It's dried, down her chin. The remaining tusk sits in Lash's hand, some final toy. Her fingers tap across it when Dura enters. Yellow eyes settle on the woman, unflinching. There's a long silence.

"I don't know what that means."

Of course she didn't know what that meant. Lash was ignorant to most things. Johan didn't give her 'last rites'. The girl drew in a breath, cuffed hands coming down to her bag. The tusk is stowed away. Something else is pulled out.

A trinket box.

"Can I show you my treasures? I want these to go to Ione." A pause. "She'll choose who in my family gets what." Closer, she stepped, the box presented forth. "It's all I have."
(Lash)
[00:06:06]
"It means -" She starts. Then stops. There's a grating, unseen friction like grinding stones below the surface. Her voice lowers. Becomes more informal, somehow.

"It means. Do you want anything done. Before you go. Like how our people do."

Of course 'our people', in Kal Azulan standards, still ran a broad spectrum. A vast amount of traditions even among the three tribes, formulated from a people that once ran free all across their home.

The Duchess slowly reaches out, carefully, to take the box.

"If that is what you wish?

Then it will be done."
(Dura Levante)
[00:12:57] Rissa says, "uhhh"
[00:13:00] Rissa says, "...Jaefin? "
[00:13:06]
"The only thing I want is to live." It's a quiet murmur. "Everything else seems so small, in light of that." It's a broader perspective, one she'd been faced with before. It had felt wholly unfamiliar the moment she was a free girl, but now that she was at that door again, she remember. What it felt like to know the future, and to look at the past with that in mind.

She leaned forward, against the bars. "I have ah.. There's- in the box." Her voice wavered. "In the box there's two flowers. Those are from Ione. One is an Iris. It's our promise." There's a horrid amount of somber affection, in her words. "To each other. She has one too." A long silence. "I guess she'll get.. all of them."

And then Jaefin was there. Her friend. Her voice broke, as she spoke again- but it was quickly steeled into something more becoming of her, emotions hidden away. "And ah- Jaefin, can take my.. My face, to my dad and mom." Her face? From her bag, came.. the mask. Held through the bars.
(Lash)
[00:18:01]
The first request is met with the Duchess' patented stony silence. Even if it becomes harder and harder to maintain.

She takes the box carefully, a small thing of treasures, and gingerly lifts the lid to peer inside. It's shut again with just as much consideration and stowed aside.

There's a rigid funerary element to it. Even as she takes the 'face' with an incline of her head.

Protocol. Ritual. Law and poise and proper conduct that she oversees.

"Any other final requests?"

The moment approached. Cold light gleams off the once fel-tainted sword at her back.
(Dura Levante)
[00:19:58] Lash says, "(going to wait on jaefin"
[00:20:03] Lash says, "(just doing a bit of pretyping"
[00:20:54]
Jaefin lumbers through the quiet halls of the Providence keep, slowly working his way on the stairs as the voice's in the dungeon grew more clear. The grim faced Draconian had rounded the corner in time to hear a plea of life from the imprisoned girl. After all that's what she was in the end, just a girl.

It was a bone chilling realization that he came to standing there and hearing Lash speak, there was nothing to mistake as Lash parted with what little possessed in that life.

"I can do that Lash, I will make sure they receive it." His voice was unusually quiet, meek.

He seemed to find it once again as he addressed Dura.

"Is this the best option that Providence has, the only option?" It was hardly a question given the Draconian's tone, accusatory and harsh.
(Jaefin)
[00:21:10] Rissa says, "..."
[00:23:14]
The box holds many items. For the sake of brevity, it will be listed as such:
- Stolen Utensil Fork from Pola’s House
- Hand Soap from Pola’s Bathroom
- Marlow’s Hair
- Charon’s Hair
- Johan’s Hair
- Victoria’s Hair (Bloody)
- Rosa’s Hair
- Ione’s Hair
- Merovic’s Hair
- Sigrid’s Hair
- Sesuda’s Hair
- Phoenix’s Hair
- Persimmon’s Hair
- Rynn’s Hair
- Jaefin’s Hair
- Teflon’s Hair
- Rauva’s Hair
- Ceylon’s Hair
- Bullet Casing (Dalia)
- Bullets, Bullet Fragments (From Markita and Jack)
- Antler Bone (Small, Y-Shaped, Sigrid)
- Charon’s Tooth (Ripped from her mouth)
- Alyona’s Glasses (Broken)
- Ione’s Flower (Hair Accessory)
- Ione’s Poppy Seeds
- Ione’s Iris (Promise Flower, Starglow)
- Black Hollowed Candy (from Johan)
- Vial of Real Tears (Sigrid)
- Intact .50-70 Government round (Jack)
- Tusk (Lash)

And as they marched over onward towards her death, she prepared to make her final request, lips parting to speak. To be executed was too simple. Lash was a little girl. They wanted something dignified to fit her, something soft and simple, something that could wipe away what they were doing.

She would deny them that, as much as possible. She would not be beheaded somewhat private. She was not a little girl. She was a monster, she was the beast in the woods.

Her voice wavers all the same.

"I want to fight."

A pause, as she stood straight, raising her chin up as she looked down at Dura in the brightest bit of defiance she could muster.

"You."

"To the death."

"16 rounds."
She was sixteen years old. Just barely.

"If I make it that far."

It's the most Lash can muster. She would not die by execution. She would bleed out in combat, hoping to traumatize someone all the while. She would die a gruesome death, for it was what she wished.
(Lash)
[00:24:24] Rissa whispers, "Dura. "
[00:24:30] Rissa whispers, "I don't imagine you wanted Jaefin here? "
[00:24:37] Dura Levante whispers, "...No. I didn't."
[00:24:37] Chat command attempt: /w ...No. I didn't.
[00:24:45] Dura Levante whispers, "And, for the record. I'm not going to fight her to the death either."
[00:24:45] Chat command attempt: /w And, for the record. I'm not going to fight her to the death either.
[00:24:52] Rissa whispers, "I didn't think you were going to. "
[00:25:20] Rissa says, "Jaefin. You're not supposed to be here. It would be in your best interests to leave. "
[00:26:46] Jaefin says, "If it's all the same to yourself and the Duchess, I'd like to provide a friendly face for Lash in her final moments."
[00:33:22] OOC - chaoko99: god this would be such a cool playby for a fel witch https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/950550545792397312/1096512568480247818/2erwwiz8gxta1-1.webp
[00:33:37] OOC - chaoko99: Or a mavkodite
[00:33:39]
Something said behind her plinks against the Duchess' facade. A twinge. A twitch. A little twitch of the spaded tail.

There is a lot of hair in this box.

It's gently shut, set aside, along with the face for the time being. All will go where it should. She is, after all, a woman of her word.

To every painful letter.

Dura's head tilts back, taking in the full size of the larger, musclebound Azulan. Sinew and scars and ill intent all packed into a green skinned parcel.

"No. That is not the law here. I cannot do that."

That didn't mean this couldn't potentially get gruesome.

"Jaefin. I do not suspect this will be made clean."

She was a prisoner. There was a cell, there were chains, there was a lot working against the inevitable. But cleanliness? Not necessarily guaranteed.
(Dura Levante)
[00:34:45] Jaefin says, "I didn't fool myself into believing an execution would be. "
[00:42:48]
Lash scoffs.
Away from the bars, she pulled, stepping back with a glower at Dura. "Then fine- tell me how it will be done." Here came the anger. Resigned to her death, and bitter about it anyhow. "Will you do it here? How about in front of a crowd? With your sword? A beheading?"

A bit of a laugh escaped the little girl, eyes wet as she let her hair hang over her face, wildly. "Or- or- how about you let me run, and you chase me like a little piggy to eat for a judicial dinner!" A scoff, a spluttering noise as she spat some of her hair out of her mouth. "You and your law!"

"The strongest people in the land insist they can't do anything! Time and time again!" And then suddenly, all of that emotion was gone, empty eyes focused on Dura, as her head tilted.

"No, I understand. You have to."


A pause, as another word slipped from her mouth. "Auntie." Another tilt of her head, the opposite direction. "Lead the way, lest' you intend to do it here. But for what it's worth, I prefer the crowd." It's not a genuine statement, but a bitter one. One meant to hurt Dura, to point out the appeasement factor of her death. Her chains rattled as her arms lifted above herself, head going slack, in a doll-like motion.

"Teach my corpse to dance, Duuuuraa.."
(Lash)
[00:48:23] OOC - Jesse: Clown Healing, let's go.
[00:48:33] OOC - Monkey_King: are you real
[00:49:35] OOC - Jesse: i am, in fact, real
[00:49:49] OOC - Proxx: Jesse Sus, Voted
[00:50:07] OOC - Mat13295: amogus
[00:51:01]
It is not a pig's mask she wears, but Dura clings tightly to her own 'face'. That rigid, unmoving exterior.

That slips. Bit, by bit, by bit.

"...No. There will be no crowd." Her sword still soft. Unedged. But firm and without any relish. "Here. And now."

That law, that order. Certainty in the face of chaos. A steady rock. Or a pair of chains.

'Auntie'. The word has force. It hits her. It has driving force like a fist, but she stands staunch and stubborn in the face of it.

"Beheading. It will be quick." There was no drive in her to strike down her kin like a monster. Even as they became all the more monstrous.

"To your knees."
(Dura Levante)
[00:54:50] Rissa says, "( one sec"
[01:00:14]
"No beheading. I want an intact corpse."

It's a simple insistence, as she stepped back, head shaking. "If you're going to chop me up, go all the way. Cut my fingers off. Take my other tusk. It's in the box. Take the rest of my teeth. Carve your name into my arm." The injuries, ever present across her. "Burn me with lightning until I can't feel my own skin. Bash my head again and again until I can't eat by myself." Her head tilted slowly.

"Set me up for an execution without a trial. Pardon me. Do it twice." Her words are cold and hollow, her arms coming to shake her chains. Rattle, rattle, rattle. "Shoot me. 19 times. Cut my head in half, down the middle. Stab me, in the neck. Slam me, into walls. Dig your claws into my skull. Light my brain on fire."

A shuddering breath in. "Tik Tak. Azulan. Like me. Executed for her crimes. Like Chiriel said. You want the easiest solution." A rapid shake of her head again as she backed further up, rear hitting upon the book case. "No therapy, nothing. No attempts. I tried. I tried. I played YOUR GAME! And every time you just knock all the pieces off."

Her hands extended, still rattling her chains, as her fingers pointed to Dura.

"Unfair!"
"UNFAIR!"

"You made the rules, and I lose for following them!? You make systems and rules and laws, and yet-and yet- and yet- and yet- and YET AND YET AND YET!" She screamed out. Rattle rattle rattle.

"Nooooo! It doesn't FOLLOW."

Again, another icy wash over of her expressions, empty.

"My name is Allashara Ellise Wythawy. Show me what happens to children who misbehave."

Rattle.

Rattle.

Rattle.

She wasn't going to make this easy. Lash stood, ready, in a haggard position. One knee was bent in, he spine twisted, head craned to the side. Black hair strung wildly over her face. She looked feral.
(Lash)
[01:05:46]
Rissa tilted her head to look at Lash. Yeah. Wasn't an easy situation, which is why she wasn't saying all that much. The insane ramblings of a woman sentenced to death.

Just a little girl, people said. That she's innocent.

"...I see."

She leans in towards Dura, whispering something. She's got a grim look on her face, like the situation was getting worse by the very moment. That's because it was. It was an absolutely dogshit spot to be in -- there were no words to describe it at all.

Still, Rissa turned to look at Jaefin. "The best option, Jaefin, isn't always the one you want to pick. The one you want -- gets people hurt. Creates a cycle."

She paused once more, looking at Lash. "Has to end, eventually."

(Rissa)
[01:05:53] Rissa whispers, "Dura. "
[01:06:05] Dura Levante whispers, "...Rissa."
[01:06:05] Chat command attempt: /w ...Rissa.
[01:06:07] Rissa whispers, "If you're going to execute her. She's over a foot taller than you. Almost two. Double your weight. "
[01:06:26] Rissa whispers, "Coldsteel cuffs or not. She can still maul you. Be careful."
[01:06:26] Dura Levante whispers, "And?"
[01:06:26] Chat command attempt: /w And?
[01:06:41] Dura Levante whispers, "..."
[01:06:41] Chat command attempt: /w ...
[01:09:12] Dura Levante says, "(gonna wait for jaefin actually"
[01:15:26]
He stood rigidly, his head held high as he watched on at Lash as they showed their desire to live. She'd gone from a panic stricken child to some of her more usual antics, still she was just a scared child.

Something he mused within himself was if the matter was fair, did Lash in the end truly deserve it? Could she change?

Jaefin believed she could after spending time with the troubled girl, maybe in time that she didn't seem to have anymore.

"I know what I originally at Mehelion for and what I learned there is more than mentions of the Fae Wild." He sighs and frowns, looking to Rissa.

"It all seems a useless way for it to end, perhaps its just my personal dealings with the girl that cloud my thoughts but I want to believe it's not the best option." His shoulders sunk.

"I'll offer that as my final protest, I don't know how many chances she's had with Providence so perhaps I sound foolish. It pains me to see a young life lost like this."
(Jaefin)
[01:15:37] Jaefin says, "( Sorry had to step away a moment."
[01:27:42]
"I wish..."

"...I wish I knew what broke you." It sounds small. Defeated, almost. But it slides away and she dredges up something else. Or tries.

Law. Order. The rigid separation between what is wild and feral and what is civilized and expected. She has always kept to it since. Since when? No - she remembers. She knows why.

Because the rules keep it in check. A different kind of animal. It's the one that makes her shadow now shudder and writhe like a pit of angry serpents.

"You don't know anything...anything about games," she snarls.

The Crown had once been someone else's. The sword, too, had been another's. Burdens, chains, strict rigor and code to keep her bound.

Except, as she enters the cell, it's not the sword she uses. It's not the beautiful, burnished blade at her back. The arm, the crystalline prosthetic that grows across her skin draws in energy from somewhere that isn't Rhyst.

Lash gets her wish. For something violent and more visceral, as Dura closes the distance to unleash an explosive torrent of sorcerous energy right beneath the towering Azulan's jaw.
(Dura Levante)
[01:27:56] Dura Levante has unequipped Eunoe.
[01:27:57] Dura Levante has equipped Unstable Living Foci.
[01:35:30] OOC - chaoko99: dying someone save me https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPfqyL_-TU8
[01:57:09]
I wish I knew what broke you.

A slow head tilted, as Dura spoke. There was nothing behind those eyes. The anger, the tears, the righteous fury and bitter hatred, it all flows away into.. nothing. Empty hollows, a golden gaze that wasn't.. human, not animalistc- it was just.. Nothing. Because that was the secret, wasn't it?

Nothing ever broke Lash. She'd always been this way. From the moment she could think, she'd been something else. She was a creature, a shape, in the body of a little girl, something wrong. Someone might point to her and see the signs of mental illness, but they'd miss the point. Lash was not mentally ill. She was not lost. She was not broken. She simply.. wasn't.

The girl had been different for as long as she could remember. She was born red in a blue world, alien to the environments and the peoples, the structures and laws and games around her. It'd all been so hard for her to grasp. Little Allashara couldn't understand why it was wrong to love her baby brother to his quite literal death. What more could you ask, from a big sister? Little Allashara couldn't understand why her father gave her a sad, disapproving look when the family pet went missing. Little Allshara couldn't understand why people didn't like when how she behaved during her mother's last rites.

Those rules weren't for her. They were for them, the people, for them to follow. Did they not understand? Lash was something else. Not quite a force of nature. It radiated off of her, all of that wrongness and sadistic energy. Every smile, every bit of crack in her persona, it'd all been put on, for their benefit. An attempt to break Dura, to ruin her and hurt her. Lash had always been so good at manipulating people. She'd done so well with Dura, and look at where it'd ended?

In truth, Lash still doesn't understand.

She feels like she's been asking for weeks why the Duchess is mad at her. Was it the lie about Phoenix? The lie about Charon? Maybe the lie about Merovic? It was always some game of telephone. Lash knew what she'd done. Sometimes, she wished other people knew too.

Then, at least, they could charge her with something she'd done, so she could smile and laugh. So she could be proud of her accomplishments. Instead, it was vague, nebulous handwaving about what she was. Too broken to exist. Pah! Lash knew better.

She was a God.

Wasn't it so? The little girl held no extraplanar influence, and yet her ill intent could drive hallucinations into the minds of others. Her aura was so sickening that lesser people cried in the presence of her, panicked, fleed. What was that if not godhood? What was she, if not Something Else?

Some would call her an egomaniac. A narcissist. It was a good thing, then, that Lash didn't listen to criticism. She was far too high to hear the mewling from below. Or maybe she was too far below to hear the cries from above.

They all seemed so small, all the same.

Despite her intent to fight, Lash doesn't move, doesn't go anywhere when the cell opened. Why would she run? Killing someone was the most intimate way to love them. Why would she deny Dura this? When that prosthetic came closer, whipped upwards towards her jaw, chains hands came to grasp upon the forearm, to hold it steady.

Yellow eyes leered downwards.
"Watch."
To describe the scene that follows is unnecessary. It's not something most would want to watch.

What's left of the child falls to the ground.
(Lash)
[01:58:20] Dura Levante says, "(that opportunity for a severe is still on the table if you wanted to take it"
[01:58:54] Lash says, "(against you?"
[01:59:21] Dura Levante says, "(yah"
[01:59:28] Lash says, "(nah"
[01:59:30] Dura Levante says, "(up to u, my dude"
[01:59:31] Dura Levante says, "(sure"
[02:16:39]
Well.

There's not much to say -- not much to do, not many ways to react in besides cruel indifference. She could've been sad, angry, vindicated.

But, at the end of the day -- that's a dead kid. Doesn't matter she was massive -- it was a cruelty of the Cycle to bring forward beings who simply could not co-exist with the rest, beings who are so fundamentally flawed, there is no recourse.

And so -- she stood. Just watching. Jaw locked, face tense, a half-lidded stare. It was out of reflex more than anything, for if her body was convinced that nothing bad just happened, then her mind would follow suit afterwards.

It was an inherently wrong line of thinking, but one she pursued anyways. Did the Azulan deserve it legally? Yes. Did anyone deserve the fate of Lash?

No.

There's a single statement, uttered perhaps out of shock, more than anything. "...wouldn't wish a fate like Lash's on the worst of the worst."

Her hands may not have been stained with blood, but she made the motions of washing them off, instinctively. It's a coping method.

Lamentable. Not even all of Melusine's oceans would be enough to clean her hands -- for all the olive branches extended, for all the work put in, for some, it's not enough. For some, death, which should not be an option, simply is.

A low sigh -- a groan, still rubbing her hands together. Looking to Dura. She was the one in the metaphorical 'splash zone'.

Her posture straightens out, and she stands at attention. It's the least she can do.
(Rissa)
[02:19:08] Chat command attempt: /who
[02:19:42]
She did not use the sword.

It would have been Just and Right and Proper to use the sword. It would have tied a nice bow on everything and made it clean.

But that is not what Dura did. Instead she pulled on that which she should definitively not have to bring an end to her kinsman. As flawed and as broken and vile as they were.

Kin. So few. So far between.

Dura watches. She has no choice. Her arm is locked in place, and she watches Lash's final moments. Such as they are.

It's a scene.

What isn't there to sag on the ground currently paints the cell. What doesn't paint that paints Dura. The clawed grip on her prosthetic sags and joins the heap of what's left.

The crystal arm lowers. Stock still, along with the rest of her. Her eyes are locked on some distant horizon, far past these walls. There's ringing, ringing in her ears.

And still she manages to hear Rissa's comment, if only distantly.
(Dura Levante)
[02:23:58]
There wasn't much to say as the act is carried out, nor after as the remains and blood carpet the cell. He felt sick at the spectacle but more so at the loss, repeatedly shaking his head as he stepped forward in disbelief.

"I'll...take the mask to Mehelion." It's a hollow voice, nothing there except the statement itself.
(Jaefin)
[02:25:39]
Dura keeps staring forward relative to where she stands. Like an automaton, a machine, she turns and steps outside of the cell with shell-shock eyes.

She reaches for the mask, in the process lightly smearing the pig's face with blood.

It's passed over to Jaefin. Wordless, expressionless, like nobody's home.
(Dura Levante)
[02:25:46] Dura Levante has dropped 1 Fox Mask from their inventory.
[02:26:12]
He offers them each a simple, solemn nod.

"Is that all then?"
(Jaefin)
[02:26:51] Rissa says, "...there's a matter of the axe, but. "
[02:26:51] Rissa says, "Dura's -- call. "
[02:27:04]
Rissa looks at the woman, trying their best not to cringe. Blood-stained isn't a friendly looked.
(Rissa)
[02:27:38] Jaefin says, "( whoop nvm theyre busy atm"
[02:28:11] Rissa says, "( ye i mean "
[02:28:23] Dura Levante says, "..."
[02:28:25] Dura Levante says, "All for now."
[02:28:28] Dura Levante says, "The box -"
[02:28:33] Dura Levante says, "..."
[02:28:40]
The Duchess struggles to make her brain work.
(Dura Levante)
[02:28:40] Chat command attempt: /emote The Duchess struggles to make her brain work.
[02:28:45] Chat command attempt: /logs
[02:28:47] Rissa says, "...The box. Yes. "
[02:28:56] Jaefin says, "( oh i meant meteor"
[02:29:05] Rissa says, "( oh ye i know "
[02:29:09] Chat command attempt: /logs
[02:29:09] Rissa says, "( im not surprised"
[02:29:42] Jaefin says, "Even if it was necessary that was awful, not much else to say."
[02:29:42] Dura Levante says, ". . . ."
[02:30:31] Jaefin says, "Ah...well I did just watched a mentally disturbed teenager be executed, it's not a glowing review but given the circumstances it's tame. "
[02:30:31] Rissa says, "You should go home. Bathe. I'll clean up the cell. "
[02:31:10] Rissa says, "...Oh. "
[02:31:27] Jaefin says, "Tomorrow things may not go so well, it's up to you if you'd like to go when I deliver the Mask Rissa."
[02:31:32]
Rissa is an empath. She can tell Dura is 'wounded' (negative vibes emanating from her).
(Rissa)
[02:31:43] Rissa says, "Do you want medical treatment, Dura? "
[02:31:54] Rissa says, "...I'd prefer not to, Jaefin. They'll be livid."
[02:32:35] Jaefin says, "Yes it'll be a regular Lion's den. "
[02:33:00] Dura Levante says, "...I."
[02:33:05] Dura Levante says, "I'm going to. Clean up."
[02:33:44] Jaefin says, "I'm going to go outside ah...I'll leave it to you two for a broader announcement."
[02:33:54] Rissa says, "...No treatment? You'll be fine? "
[02:34:05] Dura Levante says, "...Yeah."
[02:34:05] Dura Levante says, "I'm. I'll be."
[02:34:05] Dura Levante says, "..."
[02:34:05] Dura Levante says, "Yeah."
[02:34:05] Rissa says, "Right."
[02:36:30]
Once the first wave of adrenaline wears off, from that little burst, it all starts to come down. In a bad way. Dura wipes a hand down the front of her face.

Surprise, it just smears a lot of blood around. Her shoulders start to shake.
(Dura Levante)
[02:43:46]
Uh oh. Rissa continues to 'wash' her hands, staring down Dura. She's only more composed simply because she was still slowly processing it, and she wasn't the one who did the deed. It's a miracle she wasn't about to explode -- but she's seen worst.

Definitely. That's what she was going to tell herself. It wasn't that bad. She definitely has seen worse. If she keeps repeating it in her head, it's true.

A fancy handkerchief is pulled out from a pouch, and then extended out. Royal Purple, the Sigil of House Levante on the middle -- it's probably not the best thing to be using right now, but neither were thinking straight.

Rissa gingerly approached, propping the Azulan's head up to look her in the eyes.

"Dura? Can you take a deep breath for me, count to ten?"

A pause. Inhale. "One." Exhale. "Two. Like that?"

If she was allowed to, Rissa was going to start wiping blood off the Azulan's face. Probably the best place to start.
(Rissa)
[02:51:43]
She's seen some bad shit. Experienced some too.

This is different, in a handful of ways. There's a lot to process and her mind scrambles, tail over teakettle, to try and wrap around the weight of it all. The significance, the totality.

The handkerchief is probably the worst thing that she could use. Her eyes snap to it and her pupils shrink.

"I-I-I..."

The courtly composure is far and away.

The Duchess does take a deep breath. Two. Then it becomes hyperventilating as Rissa tries to clean up some of the blood.
(Dura Levante)
[02:55:23]
The ursine lord had returned from his short visit to Urosil, walking to check on prisoners as was part of his routine he tilts his head to the side quizzically.

"I don't suppose that's Merovic's blood?" Johan asked without much wavering of his voice, only ample amounts of curiosity.

Glancing towards Rissa he awaits a response, assuming that the trembling Duchess might not be in the right state to answer any questions.
(Johan Pavlova)
[03:02:00] OOC - Sunhawk: mysterious
[03:02:03] OOC - Sunhawk: all stalls are for sale
[03:02:31] OOC - Sunhawk: or only the ones in neutral camp???
[03:02:33] OOC - Sunhawk: huh
[03:03:53]
"Not his. It's not a topic to discuss, right now."

Rissa recoils her hand pretty quickly, placing the handkerchief behind her. Not exactly the greatest idea, but she didn't think about it -- hard to think. A glance is given back to Johan.

"Could you fetch -- Dura some water? Maybe a cup, and a bucket, actually." Her eyes are hollow as well, but she's lucid enough, for now. She peers back to Dura, kneeling down. "Do you think you could sit down?"

She ripped off one of her gauntlets, extending a starkly clean hand, unlike Dura's blood drenched on. It's there if she wants to squeeze the shit out of it, but there's no mention of it.

It's just there. Best not force anything.

Again -- another question, though it's a thinly veiled 'order'. "Do you think you could -- breathe like this, again?" A slow inhale, and then a slow exhale.

Rissa was going to repeat the method, over and over again. It was just a matter of having her catch on. If not -- it doesn't hurt.

A huff, a pause. If Dura followed the breathing to some degree, she added one last bit. "Do you think you could hold your breath -- for ten seconds, and then exhale?"

Again, a motion repeated, for Dura to mimic. If she wanted.
(Rissa)
[03:14:35]
Footsteps. She should've heard them, but she doesn't. Dura is absolutely covered in criminal amounts of blood. Less now, sure, but it's still a concerning spatter.

It takes a good three seconds or so to register that Rissa is talking to someone. Another three to recognize whom.

"You don't - I can...I should..." There's some resistance to the notion of sitting down, of resting, but she relents. "...Okay."

The chests are nearby and she slumps onto one of them. The prosthetic hangs limply beside her - out of sight, out of mind - and with the other shaking hand she gives Rissa's an absolute death squeeze.

It's a steady pattern. Something for her mind to latch onto that's not contemplating what just happened. In, a few counts, then out. In, then out.

Then, at the medic's behest, she takes in a deep breath and holds it. It gives her time to attempt to piece herself back together. An earnest attempt, but an utterly miserable one.
(Dura Levante)
[03:20:36]
Water was something the ursine always had on hand, from his side he unstrings a waterskin, making his way over to the two, while he didn't really care too much about the amounts of blood visible, he was concerned with his Duchess mental state.

Gentle footfalls follow as he kneels beside Dura, the waterskin held up for her to take, "A bucket and I'll be able to make some water for her to wash with."

Johan pauses however, looking to the side to try and perceive who the blood belonged to, whether it was someone he should actually care about or not.

He knew for a fact this wasn't the first execution the Duchess had personally gone through, he was somewhat baffled by the reaction.

"Follow Rissa's instructions, the breathing exercises will help clear your mind and settle your nerves."
(Johan Pavlova)
[03:32:59]
Crunch. Ouugh. She doesn't react, of course. It wasn't the time to be concerned about the Azulan trying to break her hand. A gentle nod, as she adds -- "...do remember to exhale, afterwards, yeah? Pattern -- flow. With me."

More steady breathing, and she nods towards Johan. Rissa was more interested in giving a tempo for the Duchess to follow, so a verbal thanks was out of the picture. The cycle repeats for a while, before she speaks again. "Do you think you could drink some water?" Eyes dart over to the waterskin, and another nod.

"It would be good to wet your tongue."

Pouches are quietly sifted through, a clean rag being procured. There was -- literally nothing special about this one, it looks like it was hauled around to clean up one's self after a fight. As one should.

Didn't look used yet, either. Draping it around the leg she was propped up on, she slowly poured water onto it, before holding it out towards Dura. "Do you think you could wipe your face off? Or should I?"

A simple yes no, either or. Just to gauge how she was feeling, get her mind rolling. The Duchess' hand is squeezed in return, despite the fact she was on the brink of breaking all her bones.

"...Thanks, by the way, Johan."
(Rissa)
[03:39:33]
Patterns. Order. Good. They bring her back down to reality, and all that that will entail. But they do ground her. A continuous cycle of in and out.

Easy. Right?

'Reality' is a double edged sword. There's a weight to it. Not to mention the realization and recognition of her state and the presence of others nearby.

"I think. Yeah. I can do that." She spies the clean rag. A moment later, registers the statement that comes with the offer.

"- No. No no. No." A staunch refusal of someone cleaning her. Dura moves to save some measure of face all that's passed and she takes the cloth.

"Thank you, yes. Both. Both of you. I'm...I've got this." It doesn't sound super convincing as she mops up her face and takes the offered waterskin. About half of it actually makes it into her mouth. Rissa's hand though gets some mercy as its relinquished.

The cell nearby is a mess. Calling it an execution would be technically correct. It doesn't capture the spirit of the gore that spatters the interior of the room.

And, on the ground, are bits of green-skinned flesh in a pile of what was once a large Deft Kal Azulan. Probably.
(Dura Levante)
[03:45:45] Chat command attempt: /who
[03:46:24]
Eyes spy the skin though the ursine doesn't make any connection just yet, they had dozens of prisoners of varying races, all changing daily, there's a simple gesture as the ursine raises a hand, a slow misting as a wall of ice begins to form between the bars, blocking vision and creeping across the floor to preserve what used to be a person.

"Drink slowly, you're likely recovering from shock.. the positive there being recovering, I think we should get you home."

His head turns slowly to look at Rissa, a sympathetic smile covering his lips, "I wish I could have been more help Rissa.. I'll clean up this mess, take her home."

Johan was desensitized, it wouldn't be the first time he'd clean up something so gruesome, at least in this scenario he wasn't watching his father eat the remains.

There aren't any further gestures, right now he knew even a pat on the back might trigger a fight or flight response.

"I'll figure out who this was and deal with the paper work as well."
(Johan Pavlova)
[03:52:58] Dura Levante says, "(brb rq"
[03:57:40]
Well. She did her best. It looks like it worked out, too. That's good. Her hand is finally released, and she gives it a firm shake, away from the included parties.

Ow.

"That's good. You've got this." She lets out a low huff, running a (clean) hand through her hair. "Just take your time. You've got lots of it."

"Just one step at a time."

Rissa pushes herself back to her feet, looking over to Johan. Words are mouthed, though not said out loud. 'LASH.' An L is even formed with her hands, just to help with understanding that. It looks incredibly disrespectful as an outside observer, but...

...whoops. "You helped enough. That's what matters. It's -- you got here too late. It was an interesting situation."

A huff, as she looked down at Dura. "...Whenever you're ready, we can walk you back to your home, if you want. Both of us, or one of us. But you're not walking alone, alright? We'll be here for you, until you get home."

She repeats the motion of washing her hands -- a small coping mechanism. Clearly, she didn't leave this unscarred, but they were just lucky enough not to have their mental break immediately.

"I'll -- inform you of what happened, afterwards. It'll make the paperwork much easier, I believe."

(Rissa)
[03:59:43] Dura Levante says, "(back"
[03:59:55] Johan Pavlova says, "(Wb"
[04:07:03]
It had gone wrong. There was no way though, really, that any part of that was going to go right. Life was cruel like that.

"Yes, I'm just - just. Tired." Her usual excuse. Her go-to. 'Just tired'. It holds a lot less water right here and now as she passes back the canteen to Johan.

"Just. Caught me off guard. A little. It's fine." That is no doubt going to be the collective mantra out of all this and the entire evening. 'It's fine'.

"Yeah. Just. Got to sleep a little. Then I can - I can help with the paperwork." Her words trail off. Paperwork. The certainty and comfort of the day-to-day administration.

Return to order. To logistics and reason. Yes, that's all best...She rises up on shaky feet.

"I think. Fresh air. That's good too. Right?"
(Dura Levante)
[04:14:00]
It all clicked when Rissa mouthed the words Lash, he knew how much of a manipulative bitch they were first hand, one of the few reasons he was going to execute her himself, he's not surprised now, it all makes sense.

Taking the waterskin back he strings it back to his belt, he nods to Dura, "You've been through something a little traumatic, sleep will do you a world of good, Rissa will help you home and get you to bed."

Moving to the side, peering at the wall of ice that obscures the grotesque scene he simply shakes his head, he had expected it to be Merovic, but it being Lash made so much more sense.

"We'll do the paperwork together when you're feeling better, I'll take care of what's left."

He gives another brief nod to Rissa, smiling, "I think you need to take a little time too, I doubt this situation will need much attention, just relax, both of you."
(Johan Pavlova)