[RP] Condy/Dave Mxrp

♓: The entirety of the Imperial Regalia seemed to be present, fully suited and armed to the prongs. What had been done by this new prisoner to bring about so much showmanship? Her Imperious Condescension was to be personally present for this `execution`, something unheard of except in extraordinarily rare occasions. Rumors had it that she was going to do the honors herself, something even more noteworthy and never before seen. The streets were lined with Trolls and Humans who had been brought out by the pull of seeing a piece of History unfold-- the first Public Execution since the end of the Trollian Wars, the first Public Execution handled by The Condesce herself, the Public Execution of `The Prisoner` themselves.

The first in the Imperial Humiliations was The Walk of Shame, a long trek from where The Prisoner had been held, all the way up to the front steps of the palace. The trek was to be made barefoot, the Prisoner dressed in drab and simple monochrome clothes with heavy gold-plated chains attached to their wrists and ankles. Lead by four Imperial Guards, the journey would lead the Prisoner up a pathway blocked off at the sides with velvet ropes and armed guards. Beyond them were the crowds, gawking and murmuring.

The second in the Imperial Humiliations was when the Prisoner finally reached the steps of the palace. That was where Her Imperious Condescension stood, a tall and hunched Subjugglator on either side of her. They were painted and feral, clubs clutched in blood-stained hands. The only thing keeping them in place was the knowledge and fear that if they stepped out of line, it would be more than Prisoner Blood being spilled upon the Palace Steps. They mocked in hoots and honks, throwing insults and slander in loud and rancorous whoops at the Prisoner’s expense as they made the last of their trip to where they were to be struck down. Only when they were within striking distance from HIC did the Subjugglators silence into reserved chuckles.

The Prisoner was guided to stop, standing now before the Empress of Human and Troll kind.

“speak befoar i decide that you aint worth the air yoar wastin`”3:12:36 AM

TG: *sarcastic to the bitter end, david elizabeth strider stood before the large, regal troll in front of him wearing a bitter grin.* all this pomp and circumstance for a social call? you look nice this evening by the way condy *his sarcasm took on a more flirtatious tone towards the end, not quite as stinging as it was playful.*

♓: The subjugglators posted on either side of the Empress raised the volume of their subdued chuckles and chortles for a moment, just long enough for HIC's smug smile to fade and for sharp, violent glares to be shot at the both of them. Despite the metaphorical axes hanging precariously above their throats for their actions, the Subjugglators continued their titters (albeit much more quietly).

"yknow its a reel shame, strider. spillin yoar blood right here like some common hooligan" The Condesce speaks, twirling her 2x3dent in a flourish before bringing the polished prongs of its points to whisper against Dave's throat. Her head cocked slightly as she looked at the Human, the thorn in her side. The crowd fell hushed.

"we coulda been great. not as, pike, an item oar equals but with you wearin my royal insignia. puttin that sharp tongue a yours to good use instead of lettin it go to waste. reel glubberfuckin shame"

TG: cmooon, we both know this is just a show to try and keep bozos like your pet monkeys there in line *his grin didnt fade, quite the opposite actually.* how many times have we been in this exact same scenario, over how many sweeps, across how many multiverses? surely your oracles have informed you that this is just putting a bandaid on a disembowelment *he pressed his throat against her trident a bit more, as if to emphasize the pointlessness of the situation before them.*

♓: The well decorated fans of her fins twitched at his words but no further emotion was drawn across her features.

"we aint in another universe." The words were flat, a hiss, something spat like defensive poison. Her voice was lowered, her chin was raised; from the rim of her cheeks, she looked down on the Human not with the general disgust most of his fleshbag kin earned from the Empress, but with a personal contempt-- one that far surpassed their interactions in this Universe in particular.

"my sea-errs an mages sea you doin nofin but dyin at my hands over and over again. shame i aint able to krill you twice for all the bullship you put me through. you lost. you fuckin LOST here, basshole." The Empress's words came out quick and sharp, spat like razorblades. "whats yoar plan? you got freedomfighters waitin in the wings to come an tear me to shreads? got a team of elite harrassassins lined up to brain me into chum the minute you glubbeerfuckin keel over an bleed out on my front steps like the stuck pig you oar? whatever you got planned, buoy, aint gonna work."

The murmur of the crowds picked up once more, weary wonder gracing the lips of her Subjects as she stood, smile gone, weapon poised, not striking.

"you aint gonna take this victory from me. leave the fuckin oracles and sea-ers outta this."

TG: i dont have to do anything if you kill me here, because this whole little display, this big speech and rebuttal to my earlier comment just shows how much you actually fear some sort of uprising *none of todays events seem to phase him in the slightest.* i also happen to know that after several peeks at a certain someones personal journal, someones developed a bit of a hesitant murdercrush on me *he whispered up to her in a tone just loud enough for the nearby subjuggulators to hear.* your guards are fucking awful by the way

♓: Her Imperious Condescension had to remember to be cordial. She had to remember the warnings, to keep her head, to not let the Highblooded Rage bubbling inside of her boil over and tint everything with Tyrian colored Glasses. The fingers of her fins spread, stretching the pierced and decoraged webbing in an involuntary threat display that was too deeply ingrained in her genetic coding to simply think herself through ignoring.

There was almost nothing in this world she hated more than this Single Man. Everything he said tore straight through her, bit into the Empress in ways that the uninformed general populace couldn't. He knew too much. There were too many gears turning in his head, too many irons in his fire. He'd been the last bastion, somehow becoming a martyr without the necessitation of dying. Every breath he took only cemented the reality of his words. A bandaid. Nothing more.

"you aint got a single fuckin idea what yoar talkin aboat." HIC lied, whether it was to herself or to him not even She was certain of. The tangs of her trident bit into the flesh harder, piercing but not yet drawing blood, they were held too perfectly, the wounds were filled. "ive krilled millions of yoar kind, human." A threat that didn't seem to go anywhere, a statement that even the most moronic of hacks could Google in an instant and repeat. Her fuchsia fire was burning her up inside. "give me yoar final words, buoy, so i can curse them as you die"

TG: youre really pretty when you get this angry *the sarcasm was gone from his voice, as if he simply tortured her with every biting word only to amplify the internal struggle of whether or not she wanted to kiss or kill him at moments like these. he knew one was a tad stronger at the moment, but also that her choice had little bearing on the events ahead.* i especially enjoyed that one particular passage in your diary "id like to pull every tooth from that charming, stupid grin of his."
TG: very flattering quite frankly

♓: Sweeps of instructaming, Sweeps of schooldfeeding, were undone in an instant. The evidence of her juvenile rule was present in the way she held herself, thousands if not hundreds of thousands of sweeps younger than the majority of her Universal Constants driving a divide in how much of her cool she could keep. HIC was still ancient, still mind-numbingly Alien to the timeline of Human existence, but now? Now she felt like a Grub about to throw a tantrum. Color filed her fins as the Human talked, and she found her stone-steady grasp faltering on the stem of her 2x3dent.

There was not a break after his words so much as there was processing. The Subjugglators at her sides whooped disobediently, guffawing and bubbling at the words of her Prisoner. A screech, deafening, primal, and animalistic tore from her throat. The crowd reeled, Trolls and Humans covering their ears in shocked pain at the impossibly loud Seadweller roar that bellowed from the front steps of her Palace; the reclaimed ruins of The Whitehouse. Again, her 2x3dent flourished and the telltale sound of a head hitting the paded carpet of the Runway sung out in the deafened silence.

And then another. Then, the twin thudings of heavy, Subjugglator bodies as they slinkied their way down the steps. Both Her Imperious Condescension and one David Elizabeth Strider were spattered in grape blood. With a toss of her free arm, pointing violently back down the Runway towards the Brig, The Condesce locked her firey and psionically flashing eyes with the Mortal and drew her fuchsia lips back in a snarl wide enough to show the needle-like fangs of her jaw. "TAK--E T)(IS GLUBB--ERFUCK--ER BACK TO )(IS C--ELL! )(--E AINT G--ET A *GLORIOUS* D--EAT)(!"

The Empress was trembling. Her black and ashen skin was flushed in places with her Tyrian rage: her face, her fins, her knuckles as they grasped the pole of her weapon hard enough to dent the metal. She'd deal with him later, once the taste of her own ire had died down and the crowds had dispersed. HIC stood, motionless, bound by unbridled rage as she watched the Trollian Guard yank on the tethers of Dave's shackles and begin to lead him back up the Walk. Her eyes never leave him. They bore into him. They're locked.

TG: *he looked back, giving her a very obvious wink followed by pressing his lips together in a kissing motion. the words "see you soon sugar" were mouthed so well she could almost hear the light texan drawl in his voice before his chains were yanked and he hustled to what would certainly be a luxurious prison cell.*