Life went on as it always seemed to do, slipping past Herryk in such a way that days were blurring together. Nothing held his attention, nothing appealed to him. He tried, he tried to focus, tried to involve himself in school, in being social - not for himself, but for her. Even though he knew that the promise he'd made in the fog had been to a ghoul that was a figment of his imagination - it was a promise nonetheless, and sometimes it felt like those pure, silvery moments were the only thing that kept him grounded.
Herryk was not good at keeping promises, it would seem. With each day that passed, it was getting more and more difficult to focus on anything that didn't involve losing himself in the sickness that had slowly but surely consumed him.
It was more comfortable this way. There was nothing left. Nothing else to lose.
There was only an insatiable hunger that was driving him mad. Solitude was the only way to ease the dark urges that drove him, and so Herryk had taken to spending most of his time alone, just as he was now - on the outskirts of Amityville's campus, seated, with his back against a particularly gnarled tree. He was dressed as he usually was: loincloth, furred boots, cape, runed chain. His eyes were closed, elbows resting on bent knees. His shoulders had the hunched look of exhaustion, and thick curtains of black hair concealed parts of his face.
It was safe to say that Herryk did not look particularly approachable.
Smerdle
Take ur tiem bbgrl, I have to go play boss at work today so I won't be able to tag until tonight. emotion_bigheart
Posted: Wed Nov 07, 2012 9:34 am
Prior to spending a chilly afternoon sparring on some log in an attempt to improve his balance and being taken under the wing of an angry bird enthusiast, West could have counted the number of hours he had purposefully spent in the company of trees on one hand. Over the past few months, however, he had found himself amongst leaves and branches more often than students, peacefully alone in theory, but not when reality had anything to say about it. Animals chittered and scrambled around him incessantly whenever he came out here, heedless of the fact that he might have wanted to be by himself. Every so often, another student unexpectedly crossed his path as well.
West hadn't seen anyone today, and his self-directed training had gone decently enough—the boil could almost land on a branch he targeted without sending all the nearby leaves into a suicide cyclone. For the first time in months he had a bounce in his step as he headed back toward campus. He didn't even notice Herryk at first, despite the draugr's size, and by the time he did, West was forced to stop short or go flying over the boil. He wasn't going for stealth at the moment, but with the straps of his shoes hooked through his fingers instead of around his feet, he was probably a good deal quieter than usual anyway.
Once he had recovered from nearly faceplanting in the dirt, West took a moment to actually look at the other boil. Gone was the eager kid who'd been so excited to spar and... sniff things, or at the very least that kid was on vacation. The demon didn't want to stop for chit-chat, but Herryk was one of the few students West had met over the years that he didn't wish was somewhere else. He should talk to the boil. He should be nice.
"Hey," he said, his voice deliberately louder than his footsteps had been. "Y'look like crap." There. Friendly.
pinchmonster
sorry about the wait, my brain was like WHAT IS START heart
Herryk tensed slightly, the proof of it in his broad shoulders in the curve of muscles that roped his arms. Large hands twitched only slightly as his fingers drew in, almost aching to form fists. He recognized the other boil's voice - there weren't many that spoke in that clipped, gruff tone - and for an instant Herryk had a vision of his hands wrapped tight around West's neck, fingers tightening as he squeezed.
Herryk forced it away. While he and West weren't close, it was different. He wasn't just another face in the crowd. He was an acquaintance, and he'd never done Herryk wrong. It was different. It was different. It was different.
When Herryk finally lifted his head, there was a barely-caged wildness in his eyes.
"West." A pause. "Herryk... West should go. Herryk apologizes for interrupting West's," a thick arm lifted, fingers gesturing as if he sought the proper word, "thing."
His voice was hoarse, a husky lilt to the tone.
"Herryk is not good company anymore."
Smerdle
ilu ijs
Posted: Thu Nov 08, 2012 2:02 pm
Having already backed away several short steps after nearly tripping in order to avoid the possibility of doing so again, West doubled back when Herryk raised his head, inching forward curiously. He really did look like crap. As poorly attuned to the subtleties of others' emotions as he was, even West could tell this mood was not the result of some poor grades or ghoul trouble. He shifted his weight and swallowed, testing responses in his head as the silence stretched between them.
'Nosferatu's Big and Tall out of loin cloths?'
'Not enough pictures in the new edition of FEAR and You?'
'Truthfully, you never were very good company anyway, kid.' Probably not the best time for that.
Maybe he could try a little honesty. Opening up in any way at all wasn't usually his thing, but West couldn't help feeling uneasy over the look in Herryk's eyes, long after he'd turned away. It reminded him of the animals he'd seen at the pom fights. Desperate. Uncontrolled. That sort of expression might have been exciting had Herryk been looking to fight, but it was worrying to see during what might have otherwise been a relaxing... squat against a tree.
West dropped his shoes to the ground and pulled a balled up sock out of one of them, shaking it out as he spoke. "I'm not th'princess o'pleasantness m'self, so y'dont bother me any." Shake, shake, shake. "Did someone tell y'that? You were fine company b'fore." He'd certainly been an excellent addition to prom. So angry. At... prom.
Wait.
Maybe there was a little more to this than he'd originally thought.
Herryk leveled his gaze at West, finding himself more and more annoyed with the other boil's presence.
"Herryk is not safe to be around," he growled as he rolled his shoulders back. Ghastly blue eyes narrowed as he fell silent for a brief moment. In the next instant he was shifting forward, rising to rest on the balls of his feet. He used his massive hands to brace his crouched position, and West was given a very careful once over. The boil seemed to be unfazed by Herryk's current mood. Perhaps if he could talk about it to the demon...
"Has West ever hungered to crush a human in his bare hands? To feel everything that they are simply crumble within his grasp?"
Herryk's dark fingers dug into the even-darker earth.
"Herryk hungers for this. Has West ever felt this way?"
Smerdle
no u umg
Posted: Thu Nov 08, 2012 9:17 pm
He started to shake his head before Herryk had finished speaking. Had West known these were the sorts of thoughts running through the boil's head, he probably wouldn't have stopped in the first place. It wasn't like he was one of those DETH pansies or anything. He couldn't deny there were times when humans needed to be put down, but he knew now he'd take no particular pleasure in it the next time.
"Hunters, maybe? But even wit' them, I jus' want 'em gone."
Where his tone and demeanor had been mostly hospitable moments ago, if a bit sarcastic, they were quickly souring the more time he spent dwelling on what Herryk had said.
"An' snuffin' out humans? I'm not sure it's all that yer crackin' it up t'be."
West wasn't lying, not really. He had answered the questions truthfully, but he wasn't being entirely forthcoming, and he definitely wasn't the best actor around. He dropped his sock back on top of his shoe and crossed his arms. His own question came out slowly, his voice almost accusatory.
"Why do you want to?" When he was hungry, he ate a steak.
For the first time in a long time, Herryk smiled. It was not a particularly nice smile, or even very welcoming. It was a terrible smile, a horrible curve to his lips that made it very clear that his thoughts were in very, very dangerous territory.
"It feels good. Herryk likes to feel their squishy bodies explode in his hands. Herryk likes the sound they make as they take their last breath, a gurgling sound as they choke. Herryk likes to watch the life ebb from their bodies - but Herryk has not done these things, not that he can remember. Not in the real world, only in Medea's tranceland."
He paused as he rose to his feet, big and black as death, horrible and hungering.
"It is a familiar thing to Herryk. It is almost as if.. Herryk can remember. And yet there is a fog, a screen that Herryk cannot see past. Does West know how it feels to have no memory of his past? Almost there, and yet forever out of reach?"
It appeared just speaking out about this was agitating Herryk. He seemed to broaden, grow in height.
"Does West know how it feels?"
Smerdle
slap dat natural ability on me bbygurl, whenever u redy
Posted: Wed Nov 14, 2012 9:39 am
The last thing West wanted to do was smile. He wouldn't deny that he reveled in the feeling that came with besting an opponent, the satisfaction of punching someone so hard that their teeth bit through their flesh and into his knuckles, aftershocks jolting all the way past his shoulder and numbing the muscles of his back. He longed to hit and be hit in return, to be the cause of bloodlust and rage, and he never hid from physical pain.
Their feelings might seem similar enough to a passive outsider, but they were not the same.
He snorted softly at the mention of Medea and her trances, tempted to tell Herryk he shouldn't believe anything that b***h served up, but knowing now that his words would go unheard. Herryk was truly changed. Someone might still have been able to fix the boil, but that someone wasn't West.
"No. I remember. I got a past an' I remember it jus' fine." West's initial curiosity had already moved on to sarcasm, but now it finally began tipping back toward familiar anger. "I remember fallin' off my bike an' burnin' skitters with Carry an' smackin' the s**t outta people. I even remember killin' a human, and I didn't need some trance t'help me." His arms fell out of their unfriendly cross and he slid a hand into his pocket while Herryk seemed to expand in front of him, growing more imposing. More threatening. More dangerous.
Herryk bared his teeth at the demon, his massive hands forming fists that clenched tightly to his sides. He yearned to feel his fist connect with West's face, over and over and over again until there was nothing left but mush - and then he wanted to keep driving his fist into whatever was left until there was nothing left.
He felt as if he were being mocked, as if he were being laughed at and looked down upon for not having experienced his own past.
It enraged him. That trance had been the catalyst, the best thing that had ever happened to him. It had allowed him to feel like he was able to do what he'd been made to do, that he was a machine created for destruction, death and blood and breaking bones.
"West knows nothing," he hissed, a thick arm shooting out to gather a fistful of West's shirt. He jerked the redhead towards him, his face contorted with unsurpassed rage. "Is West mocking Herryk?"
Smerdle
Posted: Fri Nov 16, 2012 11:35 pm
West's world slowed as he was tugged forward, and for several seconds the only thing in it was the painful and joyous surge of Herryk's rage. The wrath demon struggled to keep his mind from succumbing to the hazy happiness it promised, clenching his jaw and forcing his eyes wide instead. He would not look away. He would not give his... opponent the satisfaction. His own anger kept him grounded, anger and frustration at how quickly his simple walk in the woods had turned to this, how close he was to being overwhelmed, even after all of his training. This was a new level of mad.
"Don't..." West snarled. He grabbed at Herryk's fist with one hand, but failed to even put a dent in the boil's grip. The other hand remained in West's pocket, momentarily forgotten, at least until his fingers brushed the strange curved piece of metal he had found in the forest. He'd figured it was some sort of gardening implement an absent-minded horseman had left behind, but none of that mattered now. It was a weapon. They weren't in the gym and this wasn't a spar. He didn't have to play fair.
"Not mockin'," he finally managed. "Pitying. I pity you." It wasn't true. He'd known plenty of ghosts and undead kids who had no memory of who or what they had been before and he had never really thought to have an opinion one way or another about their pasts. That was just the way things were. It wasn't the most appropriate comment he could have made, but he was a long way from having the clarity of thought to care. He just wanted to piss somebody off.
"Believin' a trance. Takin' some kinda... life lessons from it." He bent his knees a bit in an attempt to push himself away, but all he ended up doing was tugging his shirt into a sort of noose. His fingers tightened around Herryk's. "Get off me." He didn't wait for a reply; West simply pulled the short spike out of his pocket and dug it into his captor's forearm as deep as it would go. With both hands now free, he curled his fingers around the boil's and tried, once again, to pull them apart.
He wished he had never stopped here. He wished his stubby nails were claws. He wished he had a gun so he could put this crazy piece of s**t down. With every wish, West's anger grew exponentially. The emotion prickled his skin and slid down his arms, his hands going slack as he forced the excess into Herryk.
Just like that, the threat of being overtaken by Herryk's rage ended. West could only guess that he was still furious, but now that the demon's wrath was mixed with the other boil's, he could no longer sense it at all. The draugr was a hole in the world; a terrifying void. West took a shaky breath. That had been a mistake.
There was a moment, a blinding milisecond, where Herryk could believe that the boil whose shirt he clutched in one thick fist was a weeping, whimpering human. A human who reeked of Fear, who sobbed and cried and wailed for mercy. Even when West grabbed at his hand, Herryk could imagine that it was a weak-willed, fleshy human who snarled at him, who tried to wriggle free.
It was a rush. It was there, so close that he could nearly taste it. Herryk couldn't say what it was - an odd familiarity that surged to the surface, a force to be reckoned with. Hungry and demanding for release, for acknowledgement, for acceptance. Nothing made sense anymore, nothing made sense.
He was not rational. Herryk did not hear the words that the demon spoke. He could only remain silent as vile, revolting thoughts and visions warped his thoughts, clouded his mind, unraveled him. Something had awakened in him back on the Isles. Something had been called to life in Medea's trance - the very emotions that had been forced down, tempered, shoved back. They flared to life now, seething and rushing and voracious.
His hand tightened in West's shirt and suddenly there was a sharp pain in his arm. It was excruciating, snapped him back to center. It gave him a focus - and with his free arm he reached over and pulled the makeshift shiv from his arm. For a brief moment there was a flash of recognition that washed over his face.
It was gone in the next instant, replaced by a molten, roiling wrath that flickered to life, breaking upon Herryk's thoughts like a crimson sea of blood. Agony. Destruction, despair. He was beyond comprehension, his shoulders broadening, legs lengthening, massive fists widening.
Ten, fifteen feet tall.
The spike was clenched in his fist, a black, clotty substance dripping down his wrist. The same sluggish black-red rot wept slowly from the deep wound at his arm.
In the next instant, that spike was shoved deep, deep into West's neck.
A slow, unholy smile spread over Herryk's face.
Smerdle
o howe i love u how long do that nat-ab last btw
Posted: Sun Nov 25, 2012 1:45 pm
The pain was a shock, almost as great as the anger had been. He could usually shake off physical injuries—he had been made to—but when the cause of his injury was still lodged in his neck, when blood pooled around the wound and streamed past the collar of his shirt and poured down his throat, when the creature who had done this still loomed overhead, West found he was hardly in a position to act as he normally would.
He wanted to shout, but he could barely breathe. Instead, the gasps of air pulled at his throat when he tried to force his lungs to fill, and he felt a desperate need to cough, but that was impossible now as well. He fought against Herryk's grip, staring up at the boil for a long second when his situation didn't change. His own hand rose to his neck, tugging at the weapon that had been turned on him, but he only succeeded in making the problem worse instead of pulling it out of his flesh. With his inability to scream, the one-sided brawl was eerily silent.
West grew weaker with every pulse of his heart, but he didn't stop struggling. He would not dissipate without a fight.
pinchmonster
nat-ab has only ever lasted a couple of days, but it can last a week or something for you bb if you like
it's mostly meant to be a catalyst
so like 1) ur made mad 2) u punch someone 3) they punch back 4) now ur legit mad at them for punching you, so mad-nat-ab doesn't need to be around anymore because now ur MAD FO REEL emotion_eyebrow 5) demons repeat nat-ab on ur friends and neighbors 6) wars n s**t 7) profit
There was something about the rush of blood, the sudden realization that dissipation was imminent, when everything came together in West's eyes - it thrilled Herryk. It drove him on, his grip on the weapon not faltering in the least. Herryk pulled the weapon to the side, elongating the florid red, gaping gash at West's neck - it wasn't until then that Herryk released the weapon and pulled West closer.
He was a monster. He was a murderer, even - and the rush never came. The almost-there fog of memories never parted, never sorted themselves out. They only grew thicker, more unreadable. Almost there and yet, at the same time, never close enough. Not like this - not with another student.
But Herryk knew he wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop, especially now. It was too late to cease this horrific avalanche of despair and disruption. He would never, never be the same again. It was too late. He'd gone too far - would continue to take it too far, again and again. There was no reason not to.
Not anymore.
Herryk took a blow here and there from West's fists, feet - whatever the demon was using to fight. He would not release the other boil: the draugr was far too intent on taking in every last breath that the demon gave, every struggle, every wash of blood across his cool skin.
Smerdle
u got it bb THANK YOU btw ilu <3
Posted: Wed Nov 28, 2012 7:26 am
It was over. Things would have been so much easier if he could have simply acknowledged it. Instead, West kicked at Herryk and slapped at his huge arms until he could no longer do so. His limbs felt cold and tingly, and very heavy. His mind felt the same. He wanted to sleep.
He didn't know when he had closed his eyes, but they eventually cracked open one last time, slowly at first, then shooting wide with panic. He couldn't breathe. And the pain...
Everything hurt. It was impossible to move, and for the first time he could recall, he wanted it all to end. Everything. He couldn't fight. So he stopped.
It was over.
West's lips parted, his unfocused eyes briefly lighting with something like acceptance. Good job, you crazy ********. You won.
And then he was gone. Dead. Only his forgotten boots and socks remained, propped in the dirt nearby.
pinchmonster
thank you for putting up with my slow emotion_bigheart live long and prosper
