(if he hadn't planned on smashing his shard with a stone, interrupted only by the chime of ceremonial vurook, voryn might've gone for a hardy stick. with it, he could stab into his ears to create his own rare quiet; there is noise even here beneath a dying tree whose roots create a tangled shield from the world. he longs again for their brief, intimate connection, and to stretch everywhere and to be everything. but its warning taught him of something parasitic growing in kenos, so voryn thinks, after listening to ocelot shout for him to wake up from his delirious daydreaming, that he ought to do as the man says.
his ascent to his feet is halted after turning his heavy body onto a hip and then a knee. with the men's fight culminating so near to him, voryn, a crouching umbra in the shadow of the great tree, thinks of a better use for his stone than self-annihilation. but for a moment that lingers too long, in the corner of silco's failing vision, he waits. sap-matted hair hangs in black strings over the chimer's grey face, partly concealing wide, red eyes that admire the strangling as though ocelot were moving according to his private design.
only when he feels as though the agony silco's due has been inflicted on him does voryn act.
at this distance, he's able to access ocelot's temple, and the uncontrolled fugue in which the outlander is trapped allows him to make his next move precise. he is quick and brutal with his gratitude, coming off of knees in the dirt to strike hard at the softest part of ocelot's skull, stopping him from exposing more of his mind in a swift return of a favour owed. the man is rendered unconscious in the breadth of one of silco's first haggard breaths in, and voryn, who catches the shoulder of his loaned robe to ride the momentum of ocelot's sideways fall up into a swaying stand, makes one final decision.
the bloody stone is pitched over his shoulder, use expended, and it is exchanged for silco's knife.)
You... You will leave now and you will leave alive, (voryn says, voice low and raw with promise.) And when you are gone, I will place your possession here in the dirt so that you may return before long to the area in which you were meant to die. You, who deepened the suffering of the Tree. You, who deepened my suffering.
(the longer voryn stays standing, the more pain radiates into his face, eventually extending down the length of his neck and upper arms. though he doesn't show this weakness to silco, his cheeks feel hot and have become a sick, muddy colour from exertion. the flush in dark skin only grows richer in colour by the minute.)
Heed my words, human, or I will finish what he started.
no subject
his ascent to his feet is halted after turning his heavy body onto a hip and then a knee. with the men's fight culminating so near to him, voryn, a crouching umbra in the shadow of the great tree, thinks of a better use for his stone than self-annihilation. but for a moment that lingers too long, in the corner of silco's failing vision, he waits. sap-matted hair hangs in black strings over the chimer's grey face, partly concealing wide, red eyes that admire the strangling as though ocelot were moving according to his private design.
only when he feels as though the agony silco's due has been inflicted on him does voryn act.
at this distance, he's able to access ocelot's temple, and the uncontrolled fugue in which the outlander is trapped allows him to make his next move precise. he is quick and brutal with his gratitude, coming off of knees in the dirt to strike hard at the softest part of ocelot's skull, stopping him from exposing more of his mind in a swift return of a favour owed. the man is rendered unconscious in the breadth of one of silco's first haggard breaths in, and voryn, who catches the shoulder of his loaned robe to ride the momentum of ocelot's sideways fall up into a swaying stand, makes one final decision.
the bloody stone is pitched over his shoulder, use expended, and it is exchanged for silco's knife.)
You... You will leave now and you will leave alive, (voryn says, voice low and raw with promise.) And when you are gone, I will place your possession here in the dirt so that you may return before long to the area in which you were meant to die. You, who deepened the suffering of the Tree. You, who deepened my suffering.
(the longer voryn stays standing, the more pain radiates into his face, eventually extending down the length of his neck and upper arms. though he doesn't show this weakness to silco, his cheeks feel hot and have become a sick, muddy colour from exertion. the flush in dark skin only grows richer in colour by the minute.)
Heed my words, human, or I will finish what he started.