carnage, continued

[Quark]

Screaming like a siren, alive and burning brighter.

My Drow is home safe. I can feel him, if only just enough to know that he’s where and when he belongs and he’s safe. “Your word, on something that matters to you the way he matters to me. Swear to me you’ll cause no harm to Drow or his loved ones. Myself excluded, of course.” I watch, and I wait, poised to sever the only tie I have left, the only bond to anything or anyone that has ever meant anything to me. It’s all I can do to protect him at this point, and he’s the only thing I give a damn about.

As soon as he gives his word, and not a moment sooner, I will slice through that last remaining connection, throw down my walls, and let the dark god in. Let the dark god win, for Drow’s sake. I will cut away the last of my memories, of my loves, of the life I’ve built coming back here and all the lives I’ve lived before this. All of it, gone in an instant. For Drow.

“You took something of mine. Gail belongs in the afterlife.”

Ah. Of its own accord, one corner of my lips curls upward as comprehension dawns. “This is about her?” He wasn’t the someone she’d come back for. I’d dragged her from the afterlife at her request, because I understood wanting so badly to cross the great divide for love. And she’d asked because of someone else. I might have sympathized with him a few minutes ago. Might have felt his pain at the thought that the woman he loved - as much as he could love - had chosen someone else.

Now, though, all I feel is grim satisfaction. It may have been the only blow I could deal, and I may have dealt it all unknowing, but good. Let him hurt. Let him suffer. Let him grind his teeth and lash out, vicious little temper tantrums to mask the pain of being alone. “She’ll be back there soon enough. There’s only so long what I did can hold. But you’ll always know she didn’t come back for you, won’t you?”

Not that she couldn’t. Not that it hurt too much. Not that what was dead needed to stay dead, and somehow those thoughts soothe the sharp pain that stabs through my chest as I speak the last sentence aloud. No, Gail had been given the choice, and she’d made it. And it hadn’t been him.

((If he does give his word in some way, feel free to assume she followed through, because she would do. Just not before doing what little she can at this point to protect Drow.))

I am the fire.

@[Carnage]

[Carnage]

and lord, I fashion dark gods too;

“My word has never meant much,” he says, voice idle, for indeed he has long lived in a palace of broken promises, he has no qualms in crushing them beneath his hooves, turning them to dust. He is not a noble man, nor has he ever pretended to be. But she has been obedient enough, listening, severing those loyal, stupid ties.
“But you may have it: I will not cause him harm.”
And he means this, for now, for the boy has not meant much, he is already forgetting his face. He has no need for the boy, except as collateral for her, and now the boy has served his purpose. Oh, someday their paths may cross again, and the promise may be revoked for whatever reason, but for now, he is honest -- as honest as he ever is, at least.

But this small kindness is dropped quick enough as her words turn to vinegar, as she says the words that have long lain in the corridors of his subconscious: she didn’t come back for you.
He’d sent a dozen acolytes after her, brought her back from the brink of the apocalypse (and never mind he’s the one who put her there in the first place, never mind he didn’t go himself), and she can’t even be bothered to find him when she is made flesh again, through whatever queer power this woman possessed.
He doesn’t dwell on it long. Hurting her is easier. Hurting her is something he is good at.
She won’t need an answer if she’s too busy screaming.
(Never mind that he doesn’t have an answer. Never mind.)

c a r n a g e

(look I am Drunk so idk what this is, but you can powerplay his torturing her, or just add it to your headcanon, or write some more <33)