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becomehero2023-09-23 09:21 pm
becomemod) wrote in becomehero2023-09-23 09:21 pm
Entry tags:
Week 0: Execution
week 0:
execution
Sunday morning starts off quietly enough, almost peaceful after the events of the past few days. Today, the alarm on everyone's phone starts at 12 PM, with a reminder of the execution to take place at 1 PM at the stadium. Unlike the Saturday notifications, however, this is the only reminder you get. It appears that attendance is not mandatory this time.
Well. Not for all of you, anyway. One of you feels a compulsion to head to the stadium, heading straight inside and following the staff to ready themselves for what's to come. All others who arrive at the stadium, hero or civilian, are led to spectator seating.
As the clock strikes 1 PM, Mika walks into the arena. On the opposite end of the field, Temenos steps out to greet them. As long as they both live, neither will able to leave the area, nor will any outsiders be able to enter.
You don't have to watch, of course. That's your choice. But with the event being broadcast all over the city, it may be hard to avoid. In-person or across town, everywhere is buzzing with gossip of the newly discovered villain about to face justice. Regardless of where you go or whether you choose to watch, the only thing to do now is wait.
Well. Not for all of you, anyway. One of you feels a compulsion to head to the stadium, heading straight inside and following the staff to ready themselves for what's to come. All others who arrive at the stadium, hero or civilian, are led to spectator seating.
As the clock strikes 1 PM, Mika walks into the arena. On the opposite end of the field, Temenos steps out to greet them. As long as they both live, neither will able to leave the area, nor will any outsiders be able to enter.
You don't have to watch, of course. That's your choice. But with the event being broadcast all over the city, it may be hard to avoid. In-person or across town, everywhere is buzzing with gossip of the newly discovered villain about to face justice. Regardless of where you go or whether you choose to watch, the only thing to do now is wait.
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[ it's insane that he doesn't suspect ill intent, and she immediately throws the bow away from herself to prove that she isn't going to shoot him again.
i could put in a lot of angst here. about how she's doomed to always cause trouble like this no matter how hard she tries. even when she wants to be good and people do their best to help her get there, it always, always goes wrong, and it's always by her own hand. because that's all still there.
but
also she's just really, really embarrassed. she can't even congratulate him on his extremely good shot. ]
Let's do something else...?!
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...it's alright. Not... the first poorly aimed arrow. Just be more careful. [ he could make a comment, about how you know, the whole rocket thing makes sense now, but he doesn't. hand to his shoulder, he sets the bow back with his other hand, for now just keeping pressure on the injury and thanking too many nights of fighting ratkings and dicking around with the other travelers, and internally cursing the gods who are useless and the current lack of healing abilities. this is fine.
he looks up to the clock. 25:00. okay. well.
temenos grabs for the edge of the shaft of the arrow to snap it - the wood crunches, he makes a little bit of a grunting noise that's less than cool, and nods. ]
Something else. Another part? What's next.
[ by god he is going to buy them time and give mika a nice time and also solve this (he won't) and get them out of here (he will not). ]
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(okay, fine, people die if you shoot them in the chest with a gun. but surely this is a minor injury?) ]
A good sports festival would have some doctors on duty...
[ she looks at the clock. there's so much time left and she injured him first thing and this sucks. ]
... Shouldn't we just call it quits here...? You were pretty good with that bow. You could, um. You know.
[ well he's probably less good with it now that he's injured. ]
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temenos sweeps the exits, briefly, with his eyes - visibly, even to the ones watching on television. he's running through every option in his head. calling for a doctor could be a distraction - little does he know the doctor is in jail - but it likely wouldn't last. someone may come out and end mika where she stands, if that timer runs out, for all that he knows. and by now, temenos mistral, cynic and cleric, knows it's unlikely they'll make it out of this situation together. he's not optimistic enough, no matter how clever he can be.
he takes another deep breath. ]
I am alright to continue, if you are. It is not the first time, and it's hardly fatal. [ another smile, again, pressing a little pressure into his arm to keep the bleeding down. he glances back at the bows, briefly, and then shakes his head. ]
It doesn't hurt at all. Show me another.
[ very brave if a lie. 24:00 ]
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[ look it's not like she's eager to die, so she's happy to put it off longer. she looks around at the other sports set ups. shot put... is a bad choice. pole vaulting? bad choice. baseball? bad choice. all the options she can see are just things that would strain his injury, and even if it's not killing him she doesn't want to make it hurt more.
temenos is so smart, running through all the possibilities and trying to come up with something. but it does not occur to mika at all that they could just not do any sport, or that she could do one without him.
it's a sports festival! they have to do sports! (no one is enforcing this.) ]
We could... race?!
[ she points at the race track! ]
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we could race she says, and he. does not make a face, becuse he is temenos mistral and he will not make a face. internally, he is thinking to himself that racing is the kind of thing you do to escape monsters and nothing else. he walks the path of the good shepherd. he does not run it.
... but mika is looking around and looks a little panicked, and her time is ominously ticking down over their heads, and temenos just nods his head. ]
So long as it isn't weight lifting. [ don't joke. hand on his shoulder he gestures with his head to the race track. maybe the audience, he thinks, just darkly, will be bored by their wholesome display and let the entire thing go. ] Lead the way, my little lamb.
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[ so that wouldn't make a good competition. (neither will this.)
but racing is good! can't fuck this one up! okay. they make their way over to the starting lines, and she's quiet until they get there. then sort of pauses instead of starting the count down, and looks over at him. he's wearing a stupid gym outfit, and trying to go along with her stupid high school sports day, and he's bleeding. ]
You're still calling me that?
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[ as he's taking a place at the starting line, and ignoring the way his shoulder aches when he moves, ignoring the wet red dripping down the white fabric. placid. mask in place. calm. full of grace. temenos the cleric smiles. ]
A lost lamb is just that: lost. It does not make you an outcast, or someone forgotten.
[ and, though he won't say it out loud, the more obvious comparison rings to. a sacrificial one. a lost little lamb, terrified and crying when someone hugged her as the weight of the weekend came to its toll with a guilty vote - lost is the only word.
(or maybe - and it occurs, but he won't voice it. maybe sacrificial, too. in the eyes of their audience, in the eyes of whoever orchestrated this, mika is just that - the example, the sacrificial lamb. for the second time in his life, he is the one who brings the lamb to the lion's den.)
the countdown continues. his smile warms a touch further. ] Are you ready?
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she tried to be a hero and fell into being a villain, back home. she was called a witch, because it was the only thing that made sense for someone like her. she tried to be a hero and fell into being a villain, here. she called herself a witch, because it was habit.
so it's nice to be called something else. little lamb—whether she's lost or sacrificial—makes her sounds sort of helpless, in a way. which probably shouldn't be something she likes. but it implies a guidance that she is desperately in need of. because she is, despite everything: just a stupid teenager, prone to messing up.
and most of all, she wanted to be a princess who gets rescued from a tower.
so she's satisfied. ]
Let's run.
[ and when they finish their race, whatever the clock says, they can end this. ]
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[ the countdown continues behind them, as he adjusts where he's standing, not quite sure how to take a running pace, hand still on his shoulder. from somewhere, there's a whistle to signify - go!
it takes temenos a second to realize that's the start - he almost jumps, startled by the noise, and.
... well, he's supposed to run? god. let's be honest. mika is going to destroy him in this race, but he'll give his absolute scholar's try to run. it's a little comical beyond the fact that he's injured - he's a scrawny millenial who will probably feel the burn of this in the morning, no matter how many paths he's traveled, but by the gods, so rare that they listen, who is he if he can't guide someone? who is he, if he can't help mika, who needs it, even if that help has to end like this?
he stumbles a little but starts to run, feeling the pain pulse through his shoulder with each step. it's slow, but he'll move anyway. ]
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and rolls don't really matter against temenos, when it comes to this. she's spent her whole life running around, dodging bullets. she makes it to the finish line well before temenos, laughing and barely even winded, and throws both her arms up. ]
I win!
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... but mika's smiling, now, laughing and delighted, and if he's winded and bleeding and looks like an idiot, at least there's that. it's infectious, a little - he smiles back, placid, gentle, tired. at least there's that.
he can feel the power of the holy light still, from earlier, and he makes his way over to where mika is standing, dragging himself half over the finish line before he drops down on the ground and pats the spot next to him. ]
... Hahhh. No chance. The Angel, the winner. The Hound, destroyed.
[ his expression flickers, tired, softening, because he knows now what has to be done. the timer ticks overhead. lower and lower. time's about to be up.
with a last breath to try and compose himself so he doesn't wheeze his way through it, he lets the warm light of the sacred flame curl around his palm, keeping it flat to the ground, and makes no note of it. they both know what's coming. there's no need to draw it out. ]
... Shall I say a benediction? What do you think?
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luckily there's time to calm down again, since it takes temenos a while to catch up. probably for the better. it would be weird to die still all energetic like that.
... she looks at the light at his hand, and nods. ]
That would be nice.
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...Close your eyes, and bow your head. Properly, now.
[ it's all the tone of a kind, guiding cleric, playfully, lightly chiding. like this is sunday school. like it's normal. like everything will be fine. he looks up, for a moment, to the audience - that if perhaps they'd like to do the same, before his attention returns to mika, and he presses one hand to his heart and bows his head. ]
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Be careful. I have a protection charm.
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a protection charm, huh? ] Such a powerful thing. I'll do the best I can.
[ wouldn't that be nice?
part of being a cleric is being a believer - a bastion of faith, of understanding of the power of the gods, of prayer. he's led dozens of services, held the hands of grieving widows and sobbing children, heard the confessions of the lost. watched as desperate residents of solistia prayed, brand give me strength, draefendi, guide my bow - dohter, save him, please save him, i can't live without him, please save him, i need you to save him, please -
...but in his own experience, those words are empty. they are prayers for nothing. when people heal, they heal from so much more than the provenance. they are comforting, empty nothingness, that people cling to the idea that the gods will change their lives, will make things better.
mika's protection charm is likely nothing, but to her, it must mean something. to someone, it must mean something. in empty words comes faith, and in that faith comes comfort. comes guidance. comes the light.
in moments like these, with his brittle faith, he can understand why they do it. and briefly, in moments like these he finds himself at the bedside of roi mistral again.
he takes a deep breath. eyes closed. his voice is as clear as a bell, strong despite any pain: it commands silence in the audience, of the crowd. he will make the audience understand the gravity of this moment, the gravity of what they are asking. what they are taking.
he recites the prayer out loud. ]
Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. O Sacred Flame, by whose mercy the faithful departed find rest, send thy light and offer absolution. Those who look upwards are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed.
[ he opens his eyes, now, and glances to the side at mika, and curls his hand. the warm, golden light forms into a shape - a blade, glowing warm and holy and true. it is not to smite the wicked. it is to send someone home.
temenos takes a deep breath. ]
May your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless, in the coming of a new dawn. He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it. Through the gods, grant thy mercy.
[ the hand holding the blade comes up. the wound in his shoulder twinges. he ignores it. oh, holy light. ] Amen.
[ at this close of an angle, guided by his abilities and the loss of something deep, he turns the blade of light and pushes it, solid and true as a real sword, through her chest. the flesh gives.
his bad arm drops down enough to act like a cradle - in hopes he might catch her, when she falls. ]
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Mika Misono is dead.
Without a word, most of the team leaders exit the stands. Temenos is free to exit the stadium anytime they choose, as are any other onlookers. ]
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