it roars, inside him, like a flame, like a whirlwind, like every natural disaster coming together to rip the world in two. it hurts. the flowers rip out from under his skin and bloom bright and shiny, glowing in the shaded pavilion. it's a righteous anger, maybe, the kind you feel when you see your friends in danger, or at least. that's how it starts. from there it quickly becomes unbridled and free, like the tendrils of a rapidly growing vine reaching out to overtake everything that it can.
the last thing he'll hear is ringo screaming his name before he loses his mind entirely.
a deer erupts from what was claude's body. the noise it lets out is like the sound of a warhorn, echoing across the luofu, and as it stomps its hooves, tosses its head, hoolay stumbles back, thoroughly surprised. with no hesitation, the deer gores him all the way through, right through the heart. a sudden, inglorious end for a famous war general.
but hoolay, in his last moments, fights back. he rips and tears into the deer, pulling flesh from bone, raking his claws against the hard, glittering shell of the deer's carapace. he rips a horn off, leaving the deer to bleed gold, and the struggle splatters it across the ground, glittering and shining in the afternoon sun. it's a messy, clumsy affair, and by the end, the deer and hoolay alike are left collapsed in a heap.
the deer looks up. there's a little of you left in there. just a little. the rage is still so consuming. the urge to kill is screaming over everything else, but you're too exhausted to continue. you watch from where you're collapsed, legs broken, chest heaving your last breaths, as ringo unsteadily makes his way over. there are cloud knights making their way in a hurry over to this little opening.
but ringo doesn't want you to suffer. he never has. and he knows there isn't any coming back from this. so - he does you one last mercy, for saving his life. he crouches in front of the deer, and - hesitantly pets it. just once. before gently and kindly slitting its throat. it's okay. it's okay, shhhh.
there's a little bit of claude left in there. does he have any final thoughts before he dies? ]
[ He's a little disappointed, among all the rage, turmoil and adrenaline, that Hoolay fought back enough to rip through his changed body and end his life. Even if there's no living like this, and even though "Claude" would cease to exist within this creature anyway. He's never been much of an adrenaline junkie, and never found much satisfaction in a good fight. He wanted to live.
Even though he's not sure why. Life is brutal, merciless and harsh. Each day a journey up a mountain in the torrential rain: painstakingly climbing upward, only to slip and fall several paces back.
But he wanted that better tomorrow. He wanted to see peace, to feel acceptance, and to know a home.
As Ringo weakly makes his way over to him, however, and as he touches him with kindness and gentility that's far too lovely for such a bloody scene, he wonders if maybe he'd set his gaze too far into the future. Golden blood flows down from his broken antler, stinging his eye and dripping past his cheek as his head bows closer to his friend. The mercy feels warm and comforting, even if the blade through his neck is bitterly cold, cutting short his hopes and dreams.
It's not so bad, at least, to die with such kindness. ]
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holyspirits) wrote2025-02-16 05:05 pm
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it roars, inside him, like a flame, like a whirlwind, like every natural disaster coming together to rip the world in two. it hurts. the flowers rip out from under his skin and bloom bright and shiny, glowing in the shaded pavilion. it's a righteous anger, maybe, the kind you feel when you see your friends in danger, or at least. that's how it starts. from there it quickly becomes unbridled and free, like the tendrils of a rapidly growing vine reaching out to overtake everything that it can.
the last thing he'll hear is ringo screaming his name before he loses his mind entirely.
a deer erupts from what was claude's body. the noise it lets out is like the sound of a warhorn, echoing across the luofu, and as it stomps its hooves, tosses its head, hoolay stumbles back, thoroughly surprised. with no hesitation, the deer gores him all the way through, right through the heart. a sudden, inglorious end for a famous war general.
but hoolay, in his last moments, fights back. he rips and tears into the deer, pulling flesh from bone, raking his claws against the hard, glittering shell of the deer's carapace. he rips a horn off, leaving the deer to bleed gold, and the struggle splatters it across the ground, glittering and shining in the afternoon sun. it's a messy, clumsy affair, and by the end, the deer and hoolay alike are left collapsed in a heap.
the deer looks up. there's a little of you left in there. just a little. the rage is still so consuming. the urge to kill is screaming over everything else, but you're too exhausted to continue. you watch from where you're collapsed, legs broken, chest heaving your last breaths, as ringo unsteadily makes his way over. there are cloud knights making their way in a hurry over to this little opening.
but ringo doesn't want you to suffer. he never has. and he knows there isn't any coming back from this. so - he does you one last mercy, for saving his life. he crouches in front of the deer, and - hesitantly pets it. just once. before gently and kindly slitting its throat. it's okay. it's okay, shhhh.
there's a little bit of claude left in there. does he have any final thoughts before he dies? ]
no subject
Even though he's not sure why. Life is brutal, merciless and harsh. Each day a journey up a mountain in the torrential rain: painstakingly climbing upward, only to slip and fall several paces back.
But he wanted that better tomorrow. He wanted to see peace, to feel acceptance, and to know a home.
As Ringo weakly makes his way over to him, however, and as he touches him with kindness and gentility that's far too lovely for such a bloody scene, he wonders if maybe he'd set his gaze too far into the future. Golden blood flows down from his broken antler, stinging his eye and dripping past his cheek as his head bows closer to his friend. The mercy feels warm and comforting, even if the blade through his neck is bitterly cold, cutting short his hopes and dreams.
It's not so bad, at least, to die with such kindness. ]