[As Salt throws his own barbs back at him, he grins while and gleeful, teeth sharp like the beast he is. Yes, good, play along with his script! Make this a show to remember! His laugh is loud, ugly, and he allows some of that vitriol and venom to boil up in his chest, to bubble out of him in a broken noise. His madness more often is kept at bay these days, but in moments like this, it's easy to get swept away.]
Oh, but don't forget, my dear Solidarity, that to be the Master of Deceit, there is no one I am betting deceiving than myself!
[And, this is where Shadow Milk nearly messes up. He forgets for the barest moment that he cannot just detach his head at will. His magic is tamped down and so he jolts back just barely with enough time to keep his head, though the thinnest slash cuts across his neck. Shallow but enough to draw blood.]
[Acrid blueberry jam fills the air as he grins, runs his tongue along his blood covered fingers.]
Make it worth my while, Salt Lick.
[And he surges forward with his blade, a flurry of quick movements, not strong but numerous meant to send Salt back with the sheer volume of them.]
[Any satisfaction Silent Salt may feel at drawing blood is shot down by the way Shadow Milk seems to draw his own perverse pleasure from it. Snarling at the sight, Salt attempts to charge forward once more, only to be corralled backward at the return fire from the other cookie. He slides back as quick as he can, but he is built for strength, not dexterity. While his armor holds for now, there are gaps that can easily be found with time.
And Shadow Milk is nothing if not adept at seeking out places to sink his horrific claws.
Though it will open him up to danger, Salt Knows he has only one option. He must end the assault before it goes on too long. But to take his head, after all that Shadow Milk has put him through, feels like — to put it as the jester might — anticlimactic. No, now that this bestial rage has been tapped into, it simply is not enough.
He does not respond with words, only a bellow that feels as if it might shake the very firmament. As he does, Salt takes one swift step backward, then swings his sword in an upward arc. He aims not directly for Shadow Milk's body, but instead aims for the hand holding onto that blade.]
[Oh, and that is what he is doing, aiming for weaknesses in his defense, in his armor. He has no plans to try and seriously fell the other Beast, but he won't make it easy for him, won't simply roll over and die.]
What!? Out of words? Don't worry, I've got plenty to spare!
[Because listening to him drone on is sure to keep his ire up! Salt hated the sound of his voice? Well, good! Silence him, then!]
Silence won't save you from me, bastard! Solidarity, what a joke! HA! I couldn't stand the thought of your precious little followers, so adoring, so obedient, so faithful to you! In the end, all it took-
[And there's that upward arc, that hit that lands true. Even with that sword being lighter, poorer made, it still cleaves his hand right off like it had been made of soft jelly. Shadow Milk makes a choked noise in surprise, silencing his tongue for the barest moments as the sword clatters to the ground.]
[Jam rushes out with each beat of his heart, and the Beast stumbles to the ground from the sheer force of that swing.]
[Hm, that's about all he has he thinks. He made a pretty good show of it, made bold proclamations of his ability to stand up to clash of blades with Salt of all people, but his legs are shaking from the effort he maintained for even just this little skirmish. Hm, he tastes blood in the back of his throat now, that cut to his neck went a little deeper than he thought too.]
[If Shadow Milk thought he would be immediately put to rest, then he was sorely mistake. Silent Salt could do it, but for all that goading, there is still much he would say. Especially now, when the other Cookie was without the ability to fight back. If given an infinite amount of time, he might even drag this out — starting with that blasphemous tongue. After all, Shadow Milk himself had introduced the once Salt of Solidarity to unprecedented levels of cruelty. It was only fair to pay that favor back.
But not only is time precious, but at the end of the day, he wants it all to be done here and now — at least on his part. Going forward, there could be no more hostility. Not when there were greater things at stake.
Especially when Salt knew he was equally as culpable for what happened.]
And yet for all your claims, Silence remains. [He stalks forward, gripping Shadow Milk by the hair and wrenching his chin back. He watches the blood pour from that wound with no small amount of satisfaction. He could do Shadow Milk the favor of cutting his throat and watch him choke on his own words. There would be poetry there.
But he has another plan in mind.]
Perhaps it is no surprise that Solidarity abandoned you. If you could look upon the faithful, the adoring, those so full of love and feel nothing but hate, then perhaps there was no saving you. No matter. [Salt repositions the blade, pressing the tip just above the other cookie's heart.] May you now understand the feeling of having your heart torn to shreds, Shadow Milk Cookie. And know that despite it all, I still granted you the mercy of a swift death.
[He chokes as he's pulled back by his hair, the sting of that wound on his throat causing him to inhale something wet and grotesque. His eyes remain unfocused, gazing out while Salt towers over him. Even without his sight, he can still feel the shadow of this Cookie looming over him.]
[He feels small, and that's such a strange thought to have on the cusp of his death. he's helpless weak, shaking. Pathetic truly, and yet all he can do is smile. As Salt passes his condemnation he chuckles weakly, feeling the full weight of that restrained blade as it's tip presses dangerous against his skin.]
Jealousy is ugly, isn't it...?
[After all, hadn't his anger, his hatred been born of something? Of his own followers and their betrayal of him? That's right, it was because of them. Those fools who used him and threw him away when he could not give them what they wanted. Who had broken into his tower and-]
[Ah.]
[The blade plunges through, the sound he makes is soft, a gasp, and he reaches with his remaining hand to grip the blade,]
[Milky though those eyes are, Salt still stares into them as the light leaves. In tandem, the residual hate lurking within his chest seems to pour outward too. Jealousy, Shadow Milk had said. Though Silent Salt had wanted for much in the barren, love was never one of those things. His people had valued them, until they had been tricked into doing otherwise.
How different would things have been, if an olive branch had been extended?
He supposed the thought didn't matter. It was too late for that now. What remained was penance, and that was only a matter of time. For now, he would wait for Shadow Milk's return. Because surely, he would.
Though Salt had not been in the Grove particularly long, he was at least somewhat aware of how these things worked. It was only a matter of time until Shadow Milk's corpse disappeared, and he woke up elsewhere. He would be forgiven for abandoning it.
But without that loathsome tongue spitting hate and riddles, it's easy to see the friend beneath. Parts of the Fount still linger. And it is for those memories, and perhaps even for the faint hope of what could come, once the past was buried, that Salt takes care with what comes next. He carefully pulls the blade from Shadow Milk's chest. Next, a hand comes to lay over his eyes, carefully closing that milky stare for the time being.
Some part of him looks forward to when Shadow Milk truly looks upon him once more.
Content with this much, and once the blade is passably cleaned, the body is lifted — carried off to his home. It takes some doing, to chase off the woodcrawlers that have overrun the house he shared with White Lily and Pavlova. But once the garden is clear, he lays the body there.
Salt will linger at least as long as it takes for the body to disappear. Or, perhaps, for life to return to it. There is still more to be done, after all.]
[It doesn't take very long for it to disappear. Though it has the grace to wait until Salt has laid it to rest himself. Placed him gently in the garden of the place he calls home. There is so rarely any sign of peace on Shadow Milk's face, death almost makes him look like a different person.]
[Once twenty-four hours pass, Shadow Milk's peace is shattered, and he wakes with a startled gasp out in the woods. His hand goes to his chest- then to his hand, finding yes, there is a hand there now, thank goodness. He's still blind and while he can still access the Beholders, there are none here where he's woken. For a moment he is shrouded in a beloved darkness that makes his jam quicken.]
[Despite that, he feels pretty good. Lively. He sits up without much trouble, his legs support his weight without the strain they usually do and- ah, he is retrieved quickly but that Gargoyle woman. She is the one who promises his sight back, uses her magic, and for the first time in almost a year, light returns to his eyes.]
[It's ...strangely disorienting. he'd gotten so used to his vision being anywhere but his actual line of sight. He spends a few moments simply staring before glee overtakes him, and he laughs like a madman, prancing off without so much a thank you.]
[It worked! It worked! Ha! Hahaha! He's a genius!]
[There are many reasons why Silent Salt does not return to the inn. Namely, he does not want to deal with the questions that begin to arise. Shadow Milk's post in the notebook, followed by both he and Salt disappearing, it would surely invite suspicion. They will not be able to carry out Salt's end of the bargain, if he was held up or followed.
Namely, he lingers near the garden, even after Shadow Milk disappears. There are plenty of Woodcrawlers to fight off, enough to keep him busy for a fair few hours. At one point, he does tuck away to the barn to catch some rest — content in the knowledge that Nox's ferocity will at least keep him safe for a time. Nevertheless, he is quick to return to where their fight occurred.
Surely Shadow Milk will return to the scene of the crime, as it were.
In the time that passes, Silent Salt has nothing to do but think. As time stretches on, those thoughts do turn to worry. If this had been a trick, no amount of willingness on Shadow Milk's part will keep him from the wrath of the others.
... He hopes it will not come to that, as he paces circles around the bloodstains still left in the grass.]
[It takes so long because he does check the Inn first. Then, he gets a little distracted looking at stuff in the greenhouse- and then he gets cornered by a woodcrawler which turns into him testing this "immortality" in a rather gruesome way.]
[He stumbles into the clearing covered in his own Jam once again, but there is a manic gleam in his eyes, and a wide gleeful grin as he finally spots Salt.]
There you are! Ha! Your armor has rust on it!
[It doesn't, he's being a lying piece of shit. It should be obvious, though. His plan worked. Those milky unfocused eyes have been replaced with sharp, focused slits. The gold of his right eye almost gleaming.]
[There is a moment where relief flits through Silent Salt. It happens between the seconds in which Shadow Milk appeared, and before Salt lays eyes on the viscera adorning the other cookie's attire. Or maybe it's the sound of his voice that immediately sours Salt once more?
Either way, he lets out a noncommittal grunt, before carefully removing his helmet. He will not need it for what comes next.]
I wanted to ensure nothing strange came of your body, that is all.
[He approaches Shadow Milk, then lowers himself down to one knee within swinging distance. He does not know how Shadow Milk wants to carry this part out, but either way, there will be no attempt at protesting here. and now.]
[If he finds his answer surprising, he doesn't show it. He watches as Salt takes off his helmet, eyes scanning his face- since this is the first time he's seen him with his own eyes like this. He hums as he kneels down before him. He glances around a moment, looking for the blade he dropped in the fate earlier. There, with a splotch of blood that probably used to be his hand. He'll pick it up.]
You have a lot of faith in my upper body strength if you think I can take your head off in one go! I'm flattered, but my best bet is running you through like you did me.
[He twirls the sword a bit, extending it out as he walks back over. The blade comes up under his chin, tilting him up to look at him.]
Truly, do you not wish to make this interesting? You'd just lay down and take my blade?
[There is no comment offered to that particular statement. He would prefer not to acknowledge the wave of sentiment that had taken him. Nor does it feel appropriate to bring up right now, not when Shadow Milk is preparing to end his life. Intentional or not, Silent Salt would not try to bargain for his life.]
You have surprised me before. [But Shadow Milk is right. After prying his gauntlets off, he begins working on loosing the cuirass as well.] As for making it a show, I gave you your drama, per your request, did I not?
[Well. This is probably the first time he's ever seen him in such little armor. Frankly it feels a little indecent! Shadow Milk turns his head a moment, to let him get it all off, feigns pacing a little like he's in thought, considering Salt's request.]
[Once he hears him drop the cuirass he whirls back around, blade pointed towards him.]
Very well! Then, allow me to read you your crimes, so that no jury believes my punishment unjust!
[He's still going to turn it into some kind of spectacle, even if it's simply him rubbing it in. After all, Salt got his satisfaction of cutting him down.]
Where were you, on the night my tower was stormed. When I was dragged down, my hair pulled, my clothing torn, and I was beaten for doing what I had been baked to carry out. When the people who chose to "follow" me were no longer satisfied with using me as their Fount of Knowledge and attempted to execute me themselves. Answer me.
[Despite all attempts at avoiding it, Silent Salt is not at all surprised that this becomes a show in and of itself. Nevertheless, he will not protest. He had agreed to leave his fate in Shadow Milk's hand.
Naturally, he swiftly regrets it.
It isn't that his sins are read aloud for all that might hear — there isn't anyone around to pay witness. Rather, it is the ugly truth of his mistakes, all laid bare. He had assumed a vicious fate had taken his companions once, only to learn of how they had defiled their virtue, and thus assumed the worst of them. That Shadow Milk's own people had turned against him —
No wonder Silent Salt's fate had gone the way that it had. Even as the cruelty of his own fate lashes at his heart, the guilt burns brighter still.
He can be nothing, if not honest.]
In the Barren. Cloistered away from those I considered my closest allies, and abandoning my own virtue.
Silence is so fitting for you! I could think of no better title for the Beast who condemned his ilk while knowing nothing of their fates!
[He allows that anger to rush through him, his hatred that had dulled over his time here, with his clearer mind, void of that thing on his chest that whispered in his ear, filled his mind with lies. It feels fresh for his moment, as he gets into character.]
[The vengeful king cutting down a treacherous knight.]
When I begged for help, I was greeted with silence! Nothing from you, nothing from the Creators, and nothing from the treacherous insects who denounced Truth long before I ever did!
[His hand grips the hilt of the blade and he rears back.]
What could you possibly have to say for yourself!?
[Silent Salt had thought himself prepared for this. He knew that, despite the tentative truce they had reached, there was still so much rage locked within Shadow Milk's heart. Yet having the words spoken into reality, being faced with the truth of his actions — it is a far greater struggle than he might have expected.
Shadow Milk asks what he would say, but the words fail him at first. Not a single word could ever justify what he had brought upon them all.
But Silence is what had brought them to this precipice. He would not let it be what carried him into the beyond.]
I do not expect forgiveness. I do not deserve it. But I offer an apology nonetheless. You, my once dearest friend, should have received better from I. [Violet eyes flick toward the glint of that deadly blade. They are only seconds away now.] May I make the right choice, in the next life.
[And Shadow Milk thought this was the thing he actually wanted. That this would be a satisfying way to take his revenge, after all. Salt had betrayed them twice over, and while Shadow Milk knows he played no small part in the other's misery as a result, his own anger and anguish- surely taking it out on the other Beast would help.]
[Breaking things, pain, violence, it always helped, right?]
[Crumbling him should be easy, he's crumbled countless. The jam on his hands is an ocean's worth. He's never once cared before now.]
[So why does the blade in his hand shake? The mask is slipping, and it no longer seems to fit the way it used to. There's a thick knot in his chest, but the show must go on. He swallows while the other gives his apology, it hangs heavy in the air between them. Finally, he says in a trembling voice,]
May we both.
[And he lurches forward. The blade strikes true, despite it all, though it takes more effort on Shadow Milk's part to push it through, between his ribs it pierce his heart. He let's out a noise, befitting a Beast as he does, and drops to his knees in front of him.]
[As Shadow Milk shifts toward, Salt allows his own eyes to shut. The pain does not bother him. Nothing would ever compare to that day in the barren. And when compared to centuries of nothingness, he should simply be grateful.
And he is. If not for the fact that he is feeling, then at least he knows that justice has been carried out. For too long have his crimes gone unanswered. At least one small thing would finally be put right.
Breath leaves him in an instant as the sword plunges forth. A great wall of agony rushes over him, and then dissipates just as swiftly.
With no life to spur him onward, and cut free from the proverbial strings that had held him in place, he tumbles forward. As he does, a great neigh cracks through the air from the distant barn.]
[He kind of regrets doing that, considering how much bigger Salt is than him. As his life is snuffed out and he topples forward, his weight hits Shadow Milk like a flour bag and he utters a soft grunt as he catches him.]
[He stays like that, probably a little too long. Holding him like they were just having some friendly embrace, rather than Shadow Milk rattling against the body of someone who had once been a comrade. When it becomes too much, he will finally shift and lay him down, and there he sits covered in his jam until the body dissipates like he assumes his must have before.]
[Once it's gone, he finds no reason to linger here. While the woodcrawlers cannot harm him, that doesn't stop them from trying, and so he stands, slams the sword into the ground in front of the flattened patch of grass where Salt once was, places his helmet atop the hilt, and makes his way back to the Inn.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2026-02-04 04:47 pm (UTC)[As Salt throws his own barbs back at him, he grins while and gleeful, teeth sharp like the beast he is. Yes, good, play along with his script! Make this a show to remember! His laugh is loud, ugly, and he allows some of that vitriol and venom to boil up in his chest, to bubble out of him in a broken noise. His madness more often is kept at bay these days, but in moments like this, it's easy to get swept away.]
Oh, but don't forget, my dear Solidarity, that to be the Master of Deceit, there is no one I am betting deceiving than myself!
[And, this is where Shadow Milk nearly messes up. He forgets for the barest moment that he cannot just detach his head at will. His magic is tamped down and so he jolts back just barely with enough time to keep his head, though the thinnest slash cuts across his neck. Shallow but enough to draw blood.]
[Acrid blueberry jam fills the air as he grins, runs his tongue along his blood covered fingers.]
Make it worth my while, Salt Lick.
[And he surges forward with his blade, a flurry of quick movements, not strong but numerous meant to send Salt back with the sheer volume of them.]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-04 10:55 pm (UTC)And Shadow Milk is nothing if not adept at seeking out places to sink his horrific claws.
Though it will open him up to danger, Salt Knows he has only one option. He must end the assault before it goes on too long. But to take his head, after all that Shadow Milk has put him through, feels like — to put it as the jester might — anticlimactic. No, now that this bestial rage has been tapped into, it simply is not enough.
He does not respond with words, only a bellow that feels as if it might shake the very firmament. As he does, Salt takes one swift step backward, then swings his sword in an upward arc. He aims not directly for Shadow Milk's body, but instead aims for the hand holding onto that blade.]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-04 11:23 pm (UTC)What!? Out of words? Don't worry, I've got plenty to spare!
[Because listening to him drone on is sure to keep his ire up! Salt hated the sound of his voice? Well, good! Silence him, then!]
Silence won't save you from me, bastard! Solidarity, what a joke! HA! I couldn't stand the thought of your precious little followers, so adoring, so obedient, so faithful to you! In the end, all it took-
[And there's that upward arc, that hit that lands true. Even with that sword being lighter, poorer made, it still cleaves his hand right off like it had been made of soft jelly. Shadow Milk makes a choked noise in surprise, silencing his tongue for the barest moments as the sword clatters to the ground.]
[Jam rushes out with each beat of his heart, and the Beast stumbles to the ground from the sheer force of that swing.]
[Hm, that's about all he has he thinks. He made a pretty good show of it, made bold proclamations of his ability to stand up to clash of blades with Salt of all people, but his legs are shaking from the effort he maintained for even just this little skirmish. Hm, he tastes blood in the back of his throat now, that cut to his neck went a little deeper than he thought too.]
[He grins.]
Well?
no subject
Date: 2026-02-05 12:21 am (UTC)But not only is time precious, but at the end of the day, he wants it all to be done here and now — at least on his part. Going forward, there could be no more hostility. Not when there were greater things at stake.
Especially when Salt knew he was equally as culpable for what happened.]
And yet for all your claims, Silence remains. [He stalks forward, gripping Shadow Milk by the hair and wrenching his chin back. He watches the blood pour from that wound with no small amount of satisfaction. He could do Shadow Milk the favor of cutting his throat and watch him choke on his own words. There would be poetry there.
But he has another plan in mind.]
Perhaps it is no surprise that Solidarity abandoned you. If you could look upon the faithful, the adoring, those so full of love and feel nothing but hate, then perhaps there was no saving you. No matter. [Salt repositions the blade, pressing the tip just above the other cookie's heart.] May you now understand the feeling of having your heart torn to shreds, Shadow Milk Cookie. And know that despite it all, I still granted you the mercy of a swift death.
[The blade plunges forward.]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-05 12:47 am (UTC)[He feels small, and that's such a strange thought to have on the cusp of his death. he's helpless weak, shaking. Pathetic truly, and yet all he can do is smile. As Salt passes his condemnation he chuckles weakly, feeling the full weight of that restrained blade as it's tip presses dangerous against his skin.]
Jealousy is ugly, isn't it...?
[After all, hadn't his anger, his hatred been born of something? Of his own followers and their betrayal of him? That's right, it was because of them. Those fools who used him and threw him away when he could not give them what they wanted. Who had broken into his tower and-]
[Ah.]
[The blade plunges through, the sound he makes is soft, a gasp, and he reaches with his remaining hand to grip the blade,]
[smiles,]
Bravo.
[And dies.]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-05 01:01 am (UTC)How different would things have been, if an olive branch had been extended?
He supposed the thought didn't matter. It was too late for that now. What remained was penance, and that was only a matter of time. For now, he would wait for Shadow Milk's return. Because surely, he would.
Though Salt had not been in the Grove particularly long, he was at least somewhat aware of how these things worked. It was only a matter of time until Shadow Milk's corpse disappeared, and he woke up elsewhere. He would be forgiven for abandoning it.
But without that loathsome tongue spitting hate and riddles, it's easy to see the friend beneath. Parts of the Fount still linger. And it is for those memories, and perhaps even for the faint hope of what could come, once the past was buried, that Salt takes care with what comes next. He carefully pulls the blade from Shadow Milk's chest. Next, a hand comes to lay over his eyes, carefully closing that milky stare for the time being.
Some part of him looks forward to when Shadow Milk truly looks upon him once more.
Content with this much, and once the blade is passably cleaned, the body is lifted — carried off to his home. It takes some doing, to chase off the woodcrawlers that have overrun the house he shared with White Lily and Pavlova. But once the garden is clear, he lays the body there.
Salt will linger at least as long as it takes for the body to disappear. Or, perhaps, for life to return to it. There is still more to be done, after all.]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-05 02:29 am (UTC)[Once twenty-four hours pass, Shadow Milk's peace is shattered, and he wakes with a startled gasp out in the woods. His hand goes to his chest- then to his hand, finding yes, there is a hand there now, thank goodness. He's still blind and while he can still access the Beholders, there are none here where he's woken. For a moment he is shrouded in a beloved darkness that makes his jam quicken.]
[Despite that, he feels pretty good. Lively. He sits up without much trouble, his legs support his weight without the strain they usually do and- ah, he is retrieved quickly but that Gargoyle woman. She is the one who promises his sight back, uses her magic, and for the first time in almost a year, light returns to his eyes.]
[It's ...strangely disorienting. he'd gotten so used to his vision being anywhere but his actual line of sight. He spends a few moments simply staring before glee overtakes him, and he laughs like a madman, prancing off without so much a thank you.]
[It worked! It worked! Ha! Hahaha! He's a genius!]
[Where are you, Salt, he's coming for you.]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-05 02:37 am (UTC)Namely, he lingers near the garden, even after Shadow Milk disappears. There are plenty of Woodcrawlers to fight off, enough to keep him busy for a fair few hours. At one point, he does tuck away to the barn to catch some rest — content in the knowledge that Nox's ferocity will at least keep him safe for a time. Nevertheless, he is quick to return to where their fight occurred.
Surely Shadow Milk will return to the scene of the crime, as it were.
In the time that passes, Silent Salt has nothing to do but think. As time stretches on, those thoughts do turn to worry. If this had been a trick, no amount of willingness on Shadow Milk's part will keep him from the wrath of the others.
... He hopes it will not come to that, as he paces circles around the bloodstains still left in the grass.]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-05 02:55 am (UTC)[He stumbles into the clearing covered in his own Jam once again, but there is a manic gleam in his eyes, and a wide gleeful grin as he finally spots Salt.]
There you are! Ha! Your armor has rust on it!
[It doesn't, he's being a lying piece of shit. It should be obvious, though. His plan worked. Those milky unfocused eyes have been replaced with sharp, focused slits. The gold of his right eye almost gleaming.]
Aaaw, did you miss me?
no subject
Date: 2026-02-05 03:08 am (UTC)Either way, he lets out a noncommittal grunt, before carefully removing his helmet. He will not need it for what comes next.]
I wanted to ensure nothing strange came of your body, that is all.
[He approaches Shadow Milk, then lowers himself down to one knee within swinging distance. He does not know how Shadow Milk wants to carry this part out, but either way, there will be no attempt at protesting here. and now.]
It seems it is your turn.
no subject
Date: 2026-02-05 06:06 pm (UTC)[If he finds his answer surprising, he doesn't show it. He watches as Salt takes off his helmet, eyes scanning his face- since this is the first time he's seen him with his own eyes like this. He hums as he kneels down before him. He glances around a moment, looking for the blade he dropped in the fate earlier. There, with a splotch of blood that probably used to be his hand. He'll pick it up.]
You have a lot of faith in my upper body strength if you think I can take your head off in one go! I'm flattered, but my best bet is running you through like you did me.
[He twirls the sword a bit, extending it out as he walks back over. The blade comes up under his chin, tilting him up to look at him.]
Truly, do you not wish to make this interesting? You'd just lay down and take my blade?
no subject
Date: 2026-02-06 05:24 am (UTC)You have surprised me before. [But Shadow Milk is right. After prying his gauntlets off, he begins working on loosing the cuirass as well.] As for making it a show, I gave you your drama, per your request, did I not?
[Translation: It's his turn to set the stage.]
Grant me a proper execution for my crimes.
no subject
Date: 2026-02-06 03:33 pm (UTC)[Once he hears him drop the cuirass he whirls back around, blade pointed towards him.]
Very well! Then, allow me to read you your crimes, so that no jury believes my punishment unjust!
[He's still going to turn it into some kind of spectacle, even if it's simply him rubbing it in. After all, Salt got his satisfaction of cutting him down.]
Where were you, on the night my tower was stormed. When I was dragged down, my hair pulled, my clothing torn, and I was beaten for doing what I had been baked to carry out. When the people who chose to "follow" me were no longer satisfied with using me as their Fount of Knowledge and attempted to execute me themselves. Answer me.
no subject
Date: 2026-02-07 04:24 am (UTC)Naturally, he swiftly regrets it.
It isn't that his sins are read aloud for all that might hear — there isn't anyone around to pay witness. Rather, it is the ugly truth of his mistakes, all laid bare. He had assumed a vicious fate had taken his companions once, only to learn of how they had defiled their virtue, and thus assumed the worst of them. That Shadow Milk's own people had turned against him —
No wonder Silent Salt's fate had gone the way that it had. Even as the cruelty of his own fate lashes at his heart, the guilt burns brighter still.
He can be nothing, if not honest.]
In the Barren. Cloistered away from those I considered my closest allies, and abandoning my own virtue.
no subject
Date: 2026-02-07 06:33 pm (UTC)[He allows that anger to rush through him, his hatred that had dulled over his time here, with his clearer mind, void of that thing on his chest that whispered in his ear, filled his mind with lies. It feels fresh for his moment, as he gets into character.]
[The vengeful king cutting down a treacherous knight.]
When I begged for help, I was greeted with silence! Nothing from you, nothing from the Creators, and nothing from the treacherous insects who denounced Truth long before I ever did!
[His hand grips the hilt of the blade and he rears back.]
What could you possibly have to say for yourself!?
no subject
Date: 2026-02-11 06:16 am (UTC)Shadow Milk asks what he would say, but the words fail him at first. Not a single word could ever justify what he had brought upon them all.
But Silence is what had brought them to this precipice. He would not let it be what carried him into the beyond.]
I do not expect forgiveness. I do not deserve it. But I offer an apology nonetheless. You, my once dearest friend, should have received better from I. [Violet eyes flick toward the glint of that deadly blade. They are only seconds away now.] May I make the right choice, in the next life.
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Date: 2026-02-11 06:41 am (UTC)[Breaking things, pain, violence, it always helped, right?]
[Crumbling him should be easy, he's crumbled countless. The jam on his hands is an ocean's worth. He's never once cared before now.]
[So why does the blade in his hand shake? The mask is slipping, and it no longer seems to fit the way it used to. There's a thick knot in his chest, but the show must go on. He swallows while the other gives his apology, it hangs heavy in the air between them. Finally, he says in a trembling voice,]
May we both.
[And he lurches forward. The blade strikes true, despite it all, though it takes more effort on Shadow Milk's part to push it through, between his ribs it pierce his heart. He let's out a noise, befitting a Beast as he does, and drops to his knees in front of him.]
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Date: 2026-02-11 06:58 am (UTC)And he is. If not for the fact that he is feeling, then at least he knows that justice has been carried out. For too long have his crimes gone unanswered. At least one small thing would finally be put right.
Breath leaves him in an instant as the sword plunges forth. A great wall of agony rushes over him, and then dissipates just as swiftly.
With no life to spur him onward, and cut free from the proverbial strings that had held him in place, he tumbles forward. As he does, a great neigh cracks through the air from the distant barn.]
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Date: 2026-02-11 07:21 am (UTC)[He stays like that, probably a little too long. Holding him like they were just having some friendly embrace, rather than Shadow Milk rattling against the body of someone who had once been a comrade. When it becomes too much, he will finally shift and lay him down, and there he sits covered in his jam until the body dissipates like he assumes his must have before.]
[Once it's gone, he finds no reason to linger here. While the woodcrawlers cannot harm him, that doesn't stop them from trying, and so he stands, slams the sword into the ground in front of the flattened patch of grass where Salt once was, places his helmet atop the hilt, and makes his way back to the Inn.]