they make eye contact, and the terror in percy's face is so familiar it's like deja vu. he remembers the look on percy's face, when vex'ahlia finally convinced him out of that mask. the unadulterated trauma. fear.
he sees the way his mouth won't move and something angry twists in his chest. the same anger from vex'ahlia, before, a fierce fury at anything that would take his most important things, his family, and destroy them.
he manages a - ] Fucking let him go! [ and then launches forward with the knife in hand, blood be damned. this time, though, he's not quite at fast, and makes a pained noise as the smoke connects.
immediately, his back hits the ground, and he starts writhing, stabbing at it - anything to get it off and kill it dead. ] I said let him go!
[every time he stabs the smoke, there's a muted scream - terrified, pained noises, animalistic in nature, as the smoke wrestles him down. it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, and he can't stop.
he's got him here, now. the smoke becomes an axe, slicing mostly through one leg, and then a mace, breaking the other. vines creep up to hold him down, wrapped around his wrists, and a fucked up, out of tune lute shrieks out a note as acid splashes across his face.
with bright glowing eyes, percy, enhanced by the smoke burning all around him, wraps his hands around vax's neck, and starts to squeeze. he sobs, as he does it.
vax knows these weapons. even if they're not real, just made of smoke. he knows - the sting of grog's axe, has fought it off before when he's been charmed, and sometimes when they were just fooling around for no reason. he makes a choked off noise, a " ghhk--" as blood comes up the back of his throat.
he knows the mace that shatters his leg. it's tiny, held by someone half his size, normally made of golden, glowing light. someone who heals, who has taken vax's confused, miserable, lost soul and soothed it back into place when he was at his most terrified.
the vines - gods, of course. even as he struggles against them, even as they wrap hard against his wrists, it could be an embrace, pulling him free of whatever stupid danger he's normally gotten himself into. the knife clatters free of his hand as it loosens his grip.
even the lute - the shrieking noise is wrong, scanlan sometimes can't play, but by the gods when he does things with his music it saves all of their asses. the acid burns hit him like he's slapped.
how lucky i have been, to know all of you.
vax chokes, and he spits blood to the side and feels the whole world going pitch dark, and all he can see in his tunnel vision is percy, his red, red eyes, the misery and agony on his face. i'm sorry, he thinks, among the pain and the sensation of dying, again, vax'ildan, all you ever do is die at the wrong time. ]
Per... [ again. low.
but there's one missing. there's someone missing. he doesn't have the capacity to think, really, the pain blurring his thoughts together, but someone's missing, and vax breathes out - ] Vex...'ahlia.
[ how lucky he has been, to live among the members of vox machina.
his fingers twitch under the smoke, under keyleth's not real smoky vines, and he thinks about snowdrops, and he thinks about home, and there's a little flicker of amber color as warm as light that forms itself into the tiny shape of a feather that might fall on the end of an arrow, clutched in his hand. ]
[above him, as his vision goes out - there's the sound of sobbing, horrified and wounded. vax might see the remains of it - the neon, multicolored tears dripping down percy's face as he tries to stop himself.
it's a struggle, but as he gasps out his sister's name, the hands come away. whispers gather around the edges of the two of them, indecipherable but for a few. familiar voices. his friends. how lucky he has been - and lucky he is now, maybe, to hear all their voices one last time. come home. come home. vax'ildan, won't you come home? we love you. there was something you were supposed to remember, but even now, you can't reach it. maybe it's safer behind closed doors, anyway. this is nicer. this is better. the people he loves, just once more.
there are no hands around his neck, and for a moment, there's just the sound of weeping, and the sound of a gun's barrel, shaky hands trying to refill it.
he can't have his voice, but maybe this time, he can have mercy.
the revolver slides into place. click. a bullet through the skull, through the forehead.
and it's nonsensical, vax shouldn't be able to hear it. but in the second before his brain shuts down, he hears a second shot, and a thud, the sound of a body hitting the floor.]
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saturations) wrote2022-02-21 11:38 am
no subject
they make eye contact, and the terror in percy's face is so familiar it's like deja vu. he remembers the look on percy's face, when vex'ahlia finally convinced him out of that mask. the unadulterated trauma. fear.
he sees the way his mouth won't move and something angry twists in his chest. the same anger from vex'ahlia, before, a fierce fury at anything that would take his most important things, his family, and destroy them.
he manages a - ] Fucking let him go! [ and then launches forward with the knife in hand, blood be damned. this time, though, he's not quite at fast, and makes a pained noise as the smoke connects.
immediately, his back hits the ground, and he starts writhing, stabbing at it - anything to get it off and kill it dead. ] I said let him go!
no subject
he's got him here, now. the smoke becomes an axe, slicing mostly through one leg, and then a mace, breaking the other. vines creep up to hold him down, wrapped around his wrists, and a fucked up, out of tune lute shrieks out a note as acid splashes across his face.
with bright glowing eyes, percy, enhanced by the smoke burning all around him, wraps his hands around vax's neck, and starts to squeeze. he sobs, as he does it.
its you or him. isn't that how it's always been?]
no subject
vax knows these weapons. even if they're not real, just made of smoke. he knows - the sting of grog's axe, has fought it off before when he's been charmed, and sometimes when they were just fooling around for no reason. he makes a choked off noise, a " ghhk--" as blood comes up the back of his throat.
he knows the mace that shatters his leg. it's tiny, held by someone half his size, normally made of golden, glowing light. someone who heals, who has taken vax's confused, miserable, lost soul and soothed it back into place when he was at his most terrified.
the vines - gods, of course. even as he struggles against them, even as they wrap hard against his wrists, it could be an embrace, pulling him free of whatever stupid danger he's normally gotten himself into. the knife clatters free of his hand as it loosens his grip.
even the lute - the shrieking noise is wrong, scanlan sometimes can't play, but by the gods when he does things with his music it saves all of their asses. the acid burns hit him like he's slapped.
how lucky i have been, to know all of you.
vax chokes, and he spits blood to the side and feels the whole world going pitch dark, and all he can see in his tunnel vision is percy, his red, red eyes, the misery and agony on his face. i'm sorry, he thinks, among the pain and the sensation of dying, again, vax'ildan, all you ever do is die at the wrong time. ]
Per... [ again. low.
but there's one missing. there's someone missing. he doesn't have the capacity to think, really, the pain blurring his thoughts together, but someone's missing, and vax breathes out - ] Vex...'ahlia.
[ how lucky he has been, to live among the members of vox machina.
his fingers twitch under the smoke, under keyleth's not real smoky vines, and he thinks about snowdrops, and he thinks about home, and there's a little flicker of amber color as warm as light that forms itself into the tiny shape of a feather that might fall on the end of an arrow, clutched in his hand. ]
cw: suicide
it's a struggle, but as he gasps out his sister's name, the hands come away. whispers gather around the edges of the two of them, indecipherable but for a few. familiar voices. his friends. how lucky he has been - and lucky he is now, maybe, to hear all their voices one last time. come home. come home. vax'ildan, won't you come home? we love you. there was something you were supposed to remember, but even now, you can't reach it. maybe it's safer behind closed doors, anyway. this is nicer. this is better. the people he loves, just once more.
there are no hands around his neck, and for a moment, there's just the sound of weeping, and the sound of a gun's barrel, shaky hands trying to refill it.
he can't have his voice, but maybe this time, he can have mercy.
the revolver slides into place. click. a bullet through the skull, through the forehead.
and it's nonsensical, vax shouldn't be able to hear it. but in the second before his brain shuts down, he hears a second shot, and a thud, the sound of a body hitting the floor.]