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 Posted: Thu Aug 29, 2013 8:37 am
The trees smiled back at him in the very same malicious glee.
They knew what he was planning.
As Bischofite strolled languidly through their virgin underbrush, they welcomed him. Beckoned him. Urged him further as he passed beneath their branches, inspecting their bark. Inspecting their branches. Inspecting the width of their trunks. And as his examinations wore on, he ran his gloved fingers across the thick branches stemming from the trunk, even tested his own weight against them. Steady? Good.
Bischofite dropped to the ground soon after. He couldn't bring his friends to this little game but that didn't matter much. Idly he wondered how his victims might feel.
Dying in
Oak
Ash
Cherry.
Would others mistake a trickle of blood for juice of the newly-ripened cherries?
Bischofite froze for a moment. His breathing slowed. He listened intently. Nothing but the trees whispered around him. However, he felt it - an Order signature in his vicinity. Something low, something lesser. Something just bothersome enough to distract him. Soon after, it vanished. What were they doing, now? Reporting on him? No - they were likely trying out their budding skills of survival.
The general laughed, a whistling, cracked, coughing sound. If only they knew of these budding machinations - would they try to stop him?
It didn't matter. one stronger than the last caught his attention regardless, so he slipped into the higher branches of a cherry tree. His signature likely tainted the heart of the forest. There was something poetic about that.
Maybe this new arrival would appreciate that.
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Posted: Sat Aug 31, 2013 1:49 pm
Persephone was genuinely concerned when she noticed, at the edge of her senses and towards the forest, a first-level Order signature and a very strong Chaos one. The Super Senshi immediately diverted from her previous route to practically run that way, intent on saving whatever idiot Page or Senshi was thinking of tangling with a General. When the Order signature winked out, she frowned. Either the person had powered down or died, but it felt more like the first. The two signatures hadn't seemed on top of each other, at the least...
She had discovered recently that she had a decent amount of success speaking to Chaos agents, even those stronger than her, when they weren't actually threatening people. Zinkenite had been fascinating to speak with - intelligent and articulate, someone she could easily see herself looking up to, following, obeying. She wondered if this General would be the same - but the closer she got, the more oddly familiar the signature felt.
She felt a chill run down her spine. Certainly Chaos was Chaos, but why did this one in particular make her so uncomfortable? There were really only two people on the other side who had burned themselves into her mind - Leto, and the Captian who had forced her to play a twisted game to protect three innocent civilians.
She really, really hoped it wasn't him.
"Hello?" She called when she reached where she thought the Chaos signature was, looking around. She didn't see anyone, but there were plenty of trees in which to hide and she was a bright white sitting duck. Crap.
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Posted: Mon Sep 02, 2013 1:26 pm
He slipped from the trees and landed directly behind her, drawing to his full height in moments. His hand shot out to usurp a whisper of leaf-green hair, scrutinizing it thoroughly in the moonlight. Yes, he remembered her easily. The brazen one who called out to him during his shenanigans. The beautiful goddess in Greek clothing who sought to save a few worthless civilians in an act that made little difference on the world. The one who had yet to understand that actions begat nothing but the consequences that would've occurred without them.
Yes, he rather liked this one.
"I remember you, child. You were so sure of yourself when you called down to me zat day, do you recall?" A grin peeled across his face with little difficulty. "So what's got you stumbling into my work, eh? Are you looking for someone to saf'e? Scour zis forest all you like, girl; you will find no one."
Not yet.
I haven't quite finished with my observations, but I can take a break and play for a while. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy; why wouldn't the same apply to Bischofite? Just the thought of it coaxed another cracked, whispering laugh out of him. Didn't she understand he was no longer her peer these days, that seeking him out spelled death in several forms? Or was she seeking an end to herself? Now that he could oblige.
The general summoned his weapons, though not to lay upon her. Instead he lashed out at the tree directly behind him, leaving a deep gash in its otherwise healthy bark. A marker, a signal. He'd look for it later, beneath another moonlit night. "Or did you come out of curiosity? What could Bischofite be up to zis time, what sort of schemes does he conceal from ze White Moon Court? What ozzer machinations might I triumph over in all my pulchritudinous glory? It's best to leaf', little girl. No one's going to saf'e you from me. Not now." He whispered his final words, a blatant reference to his recent promotion.
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Posted: Mon Sep 02, 2013 10:03 pm
Persephone froze when she felt a hand in her hair. She couldn't even think to turn around - the powerful aura of the General reminded her of how deep she had dug herself in, and she started to wonder if she had a subconscious death wish. As easily as he'd grabbed her hair, he could have chosen to appear in front of her and end her life.
What was she even doing out here?
And worse, she knew that voice. It sent a chill creeping down her spine. This was who she had feared it would be - the Captain she had confronted on a rooftop, who had tortured civilians in front of her for his sick amusement. He was a General now, it seemed.
She jumped when he slammed his chakram into a tree, taking a step to put at least a little, pointless bit of distance between them. "Curiosity. Always curiosity, these days," she said, trying to sound braver than she felt. She'd stood in the presence of a Negaverse General-King and walked away. "And...yes, I thought I felt another White Moon aura, but whoever it belonged to is clearly smarter than I." They had left, and she had come closer.
"So the Negaverse rewarded you for those sick games you played, then," she said, and she wanted to pat herself on the back for how strong she managed to keep her voice. She was outclassed - always outclassed, with her pathetic little healing powers and her energy boosts. She would do better to turn around, follow his advice, run.
Instead, she stayed.
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Posted: Wed Sep 04, 2013 9:47 pm
Bischofite wasted little time in regaining his advantage - soon after she widened the distance between them, he teleported behind her in an unceremonious reappearance. "Clearly," he echoed. Slowly he leaned toward her ear, chin hovering just above her shoulder. He spoke in a volume nary above a whisper. "Humbleness is such a heartwarming virtue, isn't it? But self-deprecation is venomously satisfying, sickly sweet like antifreeze and every bit as deadly. If you were looking to end yourself, you came to ze right person." Finally he straightened to his full height.
At once he usurped a strand of her hair, simply plucking it from his head, before coiling it around his fingers like floss and pulling it taut. He couldn't remember what color her hair was; the jaundiced lamplight from the night they first met warped all hues into some neutered green, sickly brown, volatile yellow. The moonlight offered him little more indication - even via natural lighting, there simply wasn't enough luminance to offer him the ability to discern color. So now that he slated her as monochrome, what might this single strand of hair belie about the senshi?
It relaxed into a wavy pattern. Her hair weighed far too much to sustain legitimate curls. Was she so shackled to her own heavy ideals?
The waves themselves indicated she possessed some sulfur bonds therein, but they were easily breakable. Heat and chemical treatments dissolved them easily. Was she readily swayed by anyone wielding a silver tongue?
As he pulled the strand taut, it snapped between his fingers. Perhaps it was dyed, but he doubted it - what he felt of her hair lacked the straw feeling indicative of dyed hair. Did she break easily under pressure?
Strange how one loses sight of individuality in the face of their own ideals. He never recognized these extrapolations about her before; maybe he simply saw her as a piece of a while, yet now she donned the mantle of completion and stood before him as a testament to her own abilities, not that of her Court.
"Strange word, reward." He breathed a deep sigh, and in it, he caught traces of the scent of her shampoo. "So... rigid. Verstehst du mich*?" He laughed once more and finally parted from her side, straying toward one of several trees in their immediate vicinity. Underbrush crunched beneath his feet, not unlike narrow bones. "Not all rewards are good. Sometimes... Reward and punishment become synonyms, just as ze sun and moon become one in an eclipse. Zese sings are a rarity, but zey're natural.
"What I mean to say is..." Finally he turned and leaned against the tree, resting his feverish gaze on his captive audience. "I wanted to become a youma. I want to wear ze skin of beasts and slough off ze responsibilities of being human. But... I wasn't so lucky. My intended promotion went off wis'out a hitch, and now I stand still plagued by all ze little details encompassing ze act of being human. Curious, isn't it? An unintended punishment." He chuckled. "Not what you were expecting, eh?"
Though he doubted she expected to see a familiar face in the midst of the forest. Perhaps she harbored as much of a deathwish as she advertised.
"You'f changed a little since I last saw you. No longer as confident as you were, disinclined to call me out for my nefarious deeds and sreaten to stop me. Are you afraid of me now? Tell me, child. Tell me and I might be kind enough to gif' you a little present."
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Posted: Thu Sep 05, 2013 10:05 pm
Persephone put up a hand to stifle a scream when Bischofite teleported behind her. She really disliked having him at her back, but obviously turning around to face him on equal footing was going to be annoyingly pointless. "I'm never sure if I'm humble or if I can only process my immense self-hatred through humor," she said, her tone surprisingly light.
She squeaked quietly when he tugged out a strand of her hair. "What the hell?" She snapped. "My god that is so creepy," she said, swallowing. Maybe she had dug her own grave, right then - Bischofite seemed so much more dangerous than either Leto or Zinkenite.
More unstable, at the least, than either of them.
But at least he finally moved away from her, and she could turn to face him, eyes narrowed and hands on hips. "You wanted to be a mindless beast?" She asked, frowning. "That's...actually kind of sad, that things are that bad for you."
She glanced away, taking a deep breath. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm no more afraid of you than I ought to be. Fear is a natural response. You're stronger, you have weapons, you can teleport. Everything places you at advantage to me. Why shouldn't I be afraid?"
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Posted: Fri Sep 06, 2013 2:59 pm
Bischofite only laughed, this time with more mirth than before. She's an interesting one, this morose little senshi. He might've considered her a threat before, in the midst of all the chaos and curious forays into the human mind and senshi motive. But now... She stood before him as nothing more than a lost soul, writhing in her own s**t and piss and endless disgust. If she hated herself so truly, then perhaps he could exploit that for a spot of fun. If not, then he might grant that death wish of hers.
Of course, he'd have to make it spectacular. She earned that much by simply speaking with him. Strange creatures, senshi.
"Don't be ridiculous," he chided. "Maybe you don't quite understand youma as I do, but I can gif' you at least zat. Zey are... an evolution of ourselves. Sink about it - wis'out a human, zere is no catalyst for a youma. And all youma..." He extended one hand. "Stem from humans." Out came the other hand, opposite the first. "But I suspect zat is only how ze feral ones came about, from ze useless corpses of civilians long lost to zis war. But! Let me tell you somesing even more interesting."
Bischofite pushed off from the tree and approached the senshi once more. He knelt in front of the girl and looked up at her with iniquitous glee. "Once upon a time, zere was a zealous general and a highly devoted captain. And zis is a true story, mind you, so pay attention. Now, zis ah... Arrogant little general, he had been having problems wis' his life. You see, his daddy wasn't ze nicest of people, not to him and not to ozzers. But he worked as a security guard in one of ze local prisons, and was inclined to beat ze prisoners whenever repercussions wouldn't reach him. In ze bas'rooms, while zey were showering, in ze church... It didn't matter much to him. Ze prisoners attacked and raped each ozzer, so what was ze harm, yes?
"And he gained infamy. And he gained infamy. And he gained infamy." Bischofite smiled.
"One day he attacked ze wrong prisoner. Cracked him over ze head wis' his nightstick. Srew him into ze wall, broke his nose on ze tiles. Sent ze man sprawling across ze floor, wis' nossing but his own blood trying to drown him. And finally he knelt down, lingered so very close to zis man's ear, and whispered 'you wanna know how it feels?'" He tried to mock an American accent to the best of his ability. "'I'll tell you how it feels.' And ze prisoner replied, 'I know how it feels.' And ze shank came out, and he lodged zat sharpened toos'brush right in ze guard's sroat. He choked, and coughed, and tried to gasp but nossing but hot, red blood assailed him.
"And zat was ze end of zis general's dad. Sad story. Everyone shed a tear.
"Now - zis devoted captain, he sought to avenge ze dad, because his deas' upset ze general greatly. So wis' a little luck and a lot of meticulousness, zis captain went out and sought revenge on ze one prisoner involved. And when zat man was dead, trickling down ze walls like fresh tribal paintings, he left for ze rift. Now, mind you, it wasn't easy to fight a hardened criminal. Ze captain sustained his own injuries. And his proud, proud general met him zere, eyes alight wis' amorous approval.
"After he learned what happened, he tried to promote his captain to ze level of a peer. You know how agents are born, how zey climb ze ranks, yes?" He continued his story while simultaneously forcing his hand into the senshi's chest. "First zey seize your starseed like so, and next zey drown it in so. much. chaos energy zat you feel like your body is splitting apart just to escape ze pain. Pure agony, tried and true." He coiled his fingers around the seed. "And zat is what ze general did to his friend and subordinate. And when he was srough - nossing but a youma stood where ze captain once was.
"So you see, youma are transcendent forms of ourselves. More obedient, more powerful, more streamlined. Zey don't care about sleeping or dating or sex. Zey don't care about friendships or jobs or academics. Zey don't care about hobbies or fulfillment or entrepreneurial endeavors. Zey simply are."
Finally he relaxed his grip, but he didn't altogether relinquish it. "So tell me, how do you see youma now? Be careful wis' your answer."Songstress Kitsune just poke me on aim if it's not kosher for him to do that to her!
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Posted: Tue Sep 10, 2013 5:22 pm
Persephone frowned when he laughed. She did not like to hear her enemies laugh. Especially not this particular enemy.
She stood stock still as he told her his story. She was fascinated and horrified, all at once, by the tale of the General with the prison-guard father, who had mistakenly turned one of his comrades into a monster.
As soon as Bischofite's hand sank into her chest, Persephone's breath stopped. No, no no no, she knew what an agent could do with a hand on her starseed. In a moment, he could decide to stop playing and simply kill her.
She wanted to scream and beg and plead for him to let go, to not kill her, but he had no pity, did he? He would do it anyway. Execute her without a thought. She would have to be careful. So, so careful.
"I think...that youma are sad..." She said, but her answer was faint, breathless. It hurt so much, just having him hold her starseed in his hand. She was having trouble thinking. "I think that to be without the pleasures of people and company and friends and love - that is not a life worth living. And I think that General and that Captain are the most tragic of figures."
She might have doomed herself, but instead of lying to please him, she told the truth.
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Posted: Thu Sep 12, 2013 5:34 pm
Bischofite smiled while he looked into her eyes, while she studied all the minute dilations of her pupils, all the staccato breaths that coincided with sudden spasms within her irises. "I sink... Zat people are sad..." He began, mocking her tone in its entirety. His smile only grew wider while he watched her reactions. "I sink zat zey're slaves to zis stagnant life zey cultivated for zemselfs, where zey neglect all ze sings zat zey need as basic animals and fill every void to ze brim wis' useless s**t like jobs and pointless hobbies and meandering lifestyles zat end wis' zem on ze streets or dead wis'out a soul to mourn zem.
"I sink zat is ze travesty of humanity, little girl. And you..." He drew an audible breath, features alight with interest and mischief. "You're a beautiful little epitome of such a magnificent collapse of culture.
"Per. Se. Pho. Ne." He enunciated every syllable. "You are ze landmark of a fallen kingdom, are you not? Dead gods, turned to meager memories wis'in old texts transcribed a tausend times over. You symbolize a girl who fell to trickery, who half-damned herself and spilled her lament across ze ears' for all ze time she spent wis'in Hades. One zat starved and starved wis' all her determination, only to forsake it all in light of freedom. And you sink zat youma are sad? You are fascinating, little girl."
Finally he slipped his hand from her chest, though he neglected to steal away her starseed. "You should admire ze youma, for zey are like your namesake. Only..." He bit back a chuckle and gesticulated a circle with the wave of his hand. "Zey haf' more commitment, do zey not? Zey reside wis'in Hades for all ze seasons, and never once do zey enact their hate and misery and rancor upon our world.
"Unlike you." Bischofite turned from his reluctant company and ventured toward another tree - a thick, proud oak - and marred its bark with another deep gash. His chakrams remained unconscionably sharp, given the paces he put them through. Perhaps the Negaverse finally delivered on an adequate weapon for his machinations. He paused with his back to the young senshi. "Let me tell you somesing, Persephone.
"I sink you're ze most tragic of figures.
"I sink you haf' an abysmally narrow view of your enemies.
"I sink you fail to understand suffering as intrinsic and necessary.
"But I will forgif' you for your folly, right now. On one condition..." He held up one of his chakrams and extended his index finger toward the apex of the circular blade. "You will help me tonight."
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Posted: Fri Sep 13, 2013 9:34 am
Persephone took several deep breaths, her own hand flying up to rest over where Bischofite's had been. It was a miracle that she wasn't shaking, crying, fainting, because even with his hand away, it still hurt like hell. She swallowed, frowning.
"But winter isn't Persephone's fault. It's her mother's. Demeter, who couldn't bear to let her daughter go. Perhaps Persephone is perfectly happy in Hades, and dreads the coming of summer?" Was she really saying that? Was she really still arguing with him? He was dangerous. So very, very dangerous and so very, very crazy.
"I'm not her, anyway. Maybe the myth was inspired by some Senshi past, but not me - not even my direct preincarnation; that was only a thousand years ago, and the myth of Persephone is far, far, far older." Perhaps in some other cycle, ages and ages past, her starseed had belonged to a young girl whose mother had disapproved loudly of her choice of mate. "You think I'm tragic, hmm? What about the girl a thousand years ago, who had someone she loved, but gave it all up to keep her planet safe?" She was talking out of her a**. She knew next to nothing about her past self except that she was beautiful, her name was Kore, and she called someone - a girl - "chióni poulí," "snow bird." She'd looked it up.
"You know so very, painfully little about me, General. And you know absolutely nothing of who I am under this fuku. You think that because you've seen me in two high-stress situations - because you've wrapped your hand around my starseed - that you know every facet of who I am?" There was a fire in her, suddenly, now that her life was no longer under direct threat. She wasn't sure where it was coming from, but she seized it nonetheless.
She narrowed her eyes. "You put your hand in my chest. You threatened me. You put me through hell, General, why the tits should I help you?"
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Posted: Sun Sep 15, 2013 5:58 pm
"I know exactly who you are, Persephone. I don't need your name to know you. I don't need your interests, your hobbies, your nonsense about your preincarnation. None of zat matters because I'f seen ze core of you." He smiled coldly. Absolute zero lay in his gaze. "Don't play dense wis' me, girl. We wrap outselfs in all zis nonsense about complexity and individuality and ozzer such s**t to elevate ourselfs above s**t. But once you strip all zat away..." He dismissed it in one sweeping gesture. "You are just some frightened little girl wis' a meek will to lif'.
"No matter how much you protest zat fact, you barely even exist. You don't even make waves, leaf' impressions, incite change. You are nossing at all, not even a stone in ze middle of a desert.
"So to answer your question... Yes, I sink zat zose high stress situations spell out all zat you are, because in ze midst of a war, nossing but ze uniform and ze battle prowess remains, and all you are... Is a uniform."
Bischofite walked away from the senshi who still quaked in her own hot rage. Internally he measured the distance between them, gauged it in each passing step as he flattened out wet grass. He counted in meters, felt her signature as he distanced himself from it. And when he came to a number that he felt comfortable with, one that he deemed worthy for the action he was about to execute, he stopped. Still, he did not turn to face her.
He didn't need to. Yet.
"Now, to answer your ozzer question." He drew an even breath, a steadying breath, before he turned toward her in an unimaginably quick and fluid movement. A chakram buried itself in the wood just to the right of Persephone's head, still gleaming, still unimaginably sharp, in the dim moonlight that penetrated the forest. With it, he asserted his point in the most influential manner possible: she would help him or she would die. As surely as he knew her, he understood that she would capitulate. If nothing else, she would succumb to his onslaught and the day would yield a boon to him regardless.
The Negaverse awarded that kind of forward thinking. Soon she would understand why.
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Posted: Thu Sep 19, 2013 2:45 pm
Persephone narrowed her eyes, hands clenched into fists. She was well and truly ready to put her fist into the face of the most violent, power-mad General she'd ever met, and there was something bolstering about that. If she could stand up to Bischofite, she could stand up to anyone.
"Think what you will," she said, "I know myself." Did she, really? Did she have the strength to back up her bolster? No, of course she didn't, but as long as she pressed forward, projected the illusion, fought her fear - maybe she'd make him believe. It was no different than her sister presenting herself as absolutely flawless, and yet being incapable of keeping her things organized.
Fake it 'till you make it, Lila had once advised her, and she intended to take that advice here.
So she managed to not even flinch as he swung the chakram into the tree next to her, eyes narrowing further.
"Threats." She said, and then, suddenly, she started laughing. "God, you'd carry through, though, and I know that much. I'm not ready to die tonight," she admitted, "and after your last little game, I'm actually kind of curious as to what goes on in that ******** up little head of yours. So sure, I'll help you. For now." She was so terrified she'd come around the other end, and she just could not stop giggling. It was probably dangerous to her health - he'd perceive it as mockery - when in truth it was a release of panic and stress. Much better than her other mental alternative of fainting.
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Posted: Tue Oct 08, 2013 12:39 am
Bischofite approached her unwaveringly. He stopped and rested hi hand on the chakram still embedded in a wood, and leaned over until he leveled his gaze with hers. And moments later, he usurped her chin, forced it upward ever slightly, so she would have to look down the bridge of her nose at him. He maintained very little distance between the two of them, and in that time never deigned to speak.
For if he did, he would ruin his concentration.
In those vivid olive eyes, he discovered many sights - a universe of complexity, of variation. Pupils faltering almost imperceptibly as they adjusted to a minute change in light. Sclera touched by veins, denoting even the slightest touch of exhaustion. And buried somewhere deep within, perhaps only in his imagination, a spark of something softer. Something vulnerable. Something coveted, hidden, wondrous in its own right. Something worth celebrating, worth squirreling away.
Worth concealing in darkness.
"No you don't." He stated clearly, before releasing her. He straightened up and parted ways from her; he formed his assertions. And with him came his charkam, torn from the bark with fresh sap in its wake. And some day someone might harvest it, make music with it, and in this fall weather, produce symphonies borne from his violent actions. Maybe Persephone, whoever she was, could play violin. Viola. Cello. Bass. Maybe someday she would purchase winter rosin, local goods, because she believed in circulating money within the area, and she would play through the very pains she suffered this night. And maybe he would listen, without ever knowing her name.
It was hard not to smile, not to look at the stars and wonder just how interconnected even the most distant fates became. Oh, how it hurt to recognize these things - in the weather, in wet paint, in the bubbled trails of slugs. Everything spoke stories beyond revelations, bridging gaps and generations and inclinations toward some indiscernible truth.
But her laughter shattered it all.
He may yet salvage the situation. In a careful movement, one that spoke of reverence and respect, he handled one of his chakrams by the curved blade and gestured the grip toward her. "Take it," he offered. "Use it to mark ze trees zat can support ze weight of people. Ze ones whose branches haf' matured enough to bear deas'." He looked past her. Around her. Through her. He was present, but his mind was far ahead in the moments when his plans sought reality. "Someone will learn ze crux of futility here." It was all he intended to disclose.
Bischofite glanced toward the trees. "Persephone, answer wisely - are you a low-hanging fruit?"
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Posted: Thu Oct 10, 2013 2:31 pm
Persephone made a soft, surprised squeaking noise when he grabbed her chin, eyes wide. For one short, absurd moment she wondered with a tinge of horror if he was going to kiss her - perhaps the single most ridiculous thought she'd ever had, because why the hell.
She did her best to hold his gaze, even in this strange and awkward position, and wondered what he was looking for. What he saw. Was he one of those who could read a lifetime of information about a person from their eyes? Or who claimed to, anyway?
She decided not to argue, instead to watch, once he let her go, and she stepped aside, away from the tree, away from that razor sharp chakram, from the sap pouring from it like blood. The smell was familiar, and reminded her, as sap always did, of hours spent pulling songs from the cello. Maybe she would play when she got home. Work on that gorgeous arrangement of Madoka Magica songs she'd found. Remind herself that she was human.
Perspehone carefully took his weapon, not sure hse trusted that it wouldn't hurt her. At least there was a grip, so she didn't have to worry about particular pressures and holds to avoid cutting her hand. Her eyes narrowed.
"You want me to mark gallows trees," she said. It all clicked into place. "You'll bring some other poor soul out here, and what? Hang them?" She exhaled. "You are fifty different kinds of ******** up, has anyone ever told you that?" But she was already scanning. As long as the poor ******** who hanged here wasn't her, she'd have another chance. Time to get stronger, to grow into herself.
"Am I..." She turned back to him, eyebrows raised. He asked the strangest things. "Bruised, battered, possibly a little rotten inside and out?" Easy prey? A slight smile appeared on her face, a rather ironic one. "Yeah." A simple, single word, but it spoke volumes.
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Posted: Thu Oct 10, 2013 7:54 pm
Bischofite smiled. She may understand the actions, but not the motives. Not yet. "Vielleicht. Zough never in zose choice words." He watched the trees, how they trembled in the wind, leaves shuddering against each other in a meager hiss. "You are half-right about ze gallows trees... People will hang from zem, surely, but how many is not my place to decide. I will change someone here, and zey will be ze catalyst to determine how many might die tonight." As he spoke, gloved fingers trailed across the trunks he passed.
And at her answer, he halted. He did not speak for several seconds, stretching toward minutes. He did not move, nor laugh, nor did his fingers curl imperceptibly.
Instead he simply vanished.
The general gripped her shoulder firmly, and in the breadth of a moment they crossed fifty feet together. A blink of an eye. The beat of a hummingbird's wings. A mantis breaking its prey apart.Did Persephone feel broken apart?He wasted little time. What began as a simple brush of fingertips against her waist grew into a hardened grasp, and from it, he launched her toward the trees. Threw her like a ragdoll, with borrowed strength full and fruitful. And when her body met the branches, he followed with a practiced leap. Its boughs groaned beneath the weight of two, bent and churned and protested at their combined load, but soon its wails simmered to seething whispers.
"You caught ze gallows, I will gif' you zat. But ze low-hanging fruit..." He crouched over her, his free hand placed against the crux of her shoulder and neck. He eyed his single chakram, still desperately reflecting streaks of moonlight peering through the leaves. "Persephone, you of all people should know." He held the blade to her throat, rested its flat surface against her throat. "What we're doing here is choosing trees for low-hanging fruit."
Gone again, the general stood adjacent to the trunk of the tree that supported her. Loitered directly beneath her. Bit into the tree with his chakram, satisfied by the deep laceration it now bore. This will do - this was perfect.
One tree down, many to go.
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