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[25/25 | EVE]: speaking

"You're still serving someone's agenda no matter what is done," said Eve, curtly, tossing Zac a glance (as well as pointedly offering one to the Gentleman) although her voice remained pointed mainly at Algernon. "This is an ancient game. What we percieve as right, as moral, is undoubtedly shaped by it. I don't have any better suggestions than anyone else here, except to keep that in mind."

She was thinking of Michael, again: they'd learned then the action that looks the most compassionate may actually be the least so.

bristling vale || 5/25 || psssst

Vale reached the stage with little opposition. He looked to Adoelle, pale in her resignation, pallid in her reservations, and then to Algernon who himself looked uncomfortable with the task. Really, was it of much surprise? The world shifted so deliberately to an anti-violence stance of late that sacrifice must really freeze the hands of those commanded to do it. Was it not the initial disobedience in the ivory hall that proved the majority of their visitors as pacifists, or averse to violence at the least? Vale considered as much. Perhaps their old traditions need a few prunings to remain serviceable.

And, given the alternative, Vale decided it was less of a blow to tradition for the knife to simply change hands.

He greeted the pair with a smile and remained a conversational distance from Algie and the chosen sacrifice. Particularly gentle eyes turned to Adoelle, who bore the heaviest burden of the night. „Excuse me sir, might I have that?“ He asked, hand extended for the sacrificial knife. „The tithe is very important. You’ve played your part in selecting it. However, it’s very important that one does not hesitate in finishing the sacrifice. If you have reservations, you may not cut as deeply as one needs, and that doesn’t end humanely. I do not think Adoelle wishes that kind of fate for herself.

„Do you, my dear?“ Vale shifted his attention to her next, and while his hand still remained outstretched for the knife, his request for permission was to her as well. „I cannot imagine what you’re enduring right now, Adoelle. Would you prefer my hand for this?“

Discussion broiled behind him, but he paid it little heed. They would sort themselves out in due time, but ultimately, traditions took precedence.

[Maskless Temperance: 25/25 speaking to eldritch]

Chewing on her lip, Temperance spoke up. "What is the purpose of this tithe, then, that you say it requires a death?" She watched Aloi's double out of the corner of her eye and wondered where the real thing was.

Algernon gave Vale a sharp look. The softness of the Professor was replaced with affronted indignation and his voice echoed it,. “I believe you have a place elsewhere, creature. I won’t be allowing you a single recognition.” If Vale was truly the Alois that Algernon had met before, he’d recognize the offense in him. It wasn't like they'd truly gotten along.

Alg then simply turned his cheek to the thing. Vale was nothing but a puppet to him, a cheap knockoff. He couldn't even view it as a person.

Adoelle got his attention again.

“We’ve all already lost something and I feel like I lose more by the day,” Alg’s mouth quirked a wry self deprecation as he spoke to the young woman only. “They’ve taken our children,” His eyes cut to the fetch with the gall to approach, “manipulated our lives and we’re roped into some cycle we’ve little choice in.”

Adoelle’s other hand, the one not clenched by the Gentleman, was taken and Algernon pressed the hilt of the knife into it.

“I’ve seen memories of you and Heliodora. I know you chose this position, that you’ve always chosen to be in the positions you all have taken.” His hand rested on hers around the knife’s handle. Alg’s touch emanates warmth and bolsters her nerves, gives her clarity to cut through any fear if she is open to it.

“If you want to be truly the willing sacrifice, then I’ll leave it to you to fulfill that responsibility,” Alg gave her a grave look, “And if you don’t truly want to die, throw the knife away. This is your choice.”

His hands dropped away from her, he stepped back and away, and he’d left Adoelle with the blade.

Alg then addressed the complaints of the room loudly, “They brought humans along to see what we’d do, to see if we’d change anything. I’m certainly not killing anyone.” Through word, through argument he was certainly guilty of the death should it happen, but he could deal with that. He could own up to that responsibility, but he would not be cutting a throat. There were more ways to take responsibility than performing the act himself. The time for debating had happened and the group had made this choice.

“Bugger your bloody traditions.” It was almost a growl, directed to the Gentleman, the Survivor, and the others on the council. Even Noeh was given a lingering look.

“If Adoelle wants to die now, if she thinks it will make the most impact, then let her. We already know the death may come later, out of everyone’s control, and not on her terms at all.” Like Michael.

What anyone else did, as he stepped away, was out of his hands.

Adoelle Nashua and the Eldritch Gentleman | BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

Adoelle takes the knife from Algernon and turns it over in her hands for a moment. "Thank you," she says, and the look on her face is... peaceful. Pleased. She looks to Autumn.

"There is no other time," she says. "There is no other way." She casts an arm to the window.

The blood moon is low, so low, round as a pumpkin on the horizon.

She turns to the Eldritch Gentleman and holds out the knife.

"Will you?" she asks, and he says,

"I̶'́l̛l b̷e ͟f҉as̡t."

He takes the knife.

Adoelle turns away from him.

He lifts her hair up off her neck and

slits

her

throat.

Autumn Smith 20/25, Attempting to use healing power on Adoelle

Autumn went pale. But oh, thank ******** someone was acting, someone was moving. Unable to find words without being sick, she moved over to Temperance and Adoelle, and tried to pull the pain. It was so unbearable, so unlike anything she had done before. Autumn sobbed, willing the pain into herself. It was temporary! It wasn't real. She had to remind herself, taking in this pain from the bandage-wrapped throat, it was not real. Her own throat had not been slit.

The Eldritch Gentleman | it's all yours I'm done with it

The Eldritch Gentleman stares down at Temperance an Autumn - judging them. This is an exercise in futility if he's ever seen one. When the burning man's hand appeals to him for the knife, it comes almost as a relief - a distraction.

The Eldritch Gentleman presses the hilt of the bloody blade into Vale's hand.

"Ųs͗̋ͭͨ̑̂͗e̡ͫͨ̄ͯ̋̅̂ ȋ̒͂ͣͧť͒ ̏ͥ̎̏̊͟w̸ͪ̂ͮȅ̐͝lͩ͆ͮ̊̎l," he urges, but if he and Ezra are still on the same page then he has no doubt it will be.