Out on a Limb (Xenon)

[Nako]

For the first few moments, Dyspar had the unpleasant sensation of not breathing through his mouth.. but breathing through an -open tube- as his esophagus was pulled straight out of his throat. Pain.. yes there was pain... but it had transcended from the point of being that and had turned into something he could only describe as pure sensation. The whistling of his windpipe... the gurgling of blood pulling around his throat and pouring into his lungs...

It was a blessing that the man sliced the major veins in the manner he did; Dyspar was not conscious for longer than thirty seconds.

His legs stretched out oddly, kicking blindly and ineffectively as his death throes took hold of him. He could act little more than a slaughtered animal as the neurons fired off for the last time, sending odd signals to his body until finally he lay still in a pool of his own blood, dead and alone like the young girl he'd found in the alleyway. The girl who'd gotten him into this trouble in the first place.

Karma was a bitch.

[carcinoGeneticist]

((Rolled for Sia - 3. Rolled for Pale - 19. Damn.))

Blood. The world was quickly filling with blood, and Apocalypse quickly found he couldn't tell how badly he was bleeding, not when the Corvie pinned beneath him was bleeding out so nicely beneath him. He sucked in another ragged breath, doing his best to keep the body - because the boy was dead, or would be soon - as still as possible. When finally the kicking stopped and the deer was completely still, the pale King rose, staring down at the corpse. A shiver went through him as he touched his own throat again, wincing.

It was only fair that the boy had gotten a strike in. After all, he'd claimed his life. He gave the body a soft prod with his foot and then turned to leave. He needed medical attention.

"DYSPAR!"

The Doe had watched everything. She'd seen the man attack her brother, but she'd been too afraid to come out from behind the garbage cans, to make a move to stop the strange King from hurting him. She was sure that he would stop, let her brother up as soon as he'd roughed the boy up a little bit. He hadn't. He hadn't, and now her brother was laying dead in the middle of the street. She screamed again as she charged the man, not noticing the weapon that materialized in his hand as he turned to face her until it was too late.

She saw the sweep of the blade, saw a flash of light on metal, and then she saw nothing.

Apocalypse himself watched dispassionately as the body crumpled, the head neatly removed from the shoulders spiraling through the air before landing with a dull thud a few feet away. That... hadn't been entirely expected. He'd heard the cry and spun without thinking, Rhiannon jumping to his hand with a thought. He felt rather foolish now, as he pushed the body over and saw the marking on the girl's breast. She hadn't been a threat, but he'd reacted, and now...

The man sighed softly, bowing his head and whispering a few words in the Bog tongue for the girl and her brother. The loss of the girl's life had been unfortunate, but there wasn't a damn thing he could do now. He wiped the blade off on his leg, then moved out of the alley.

He should have felt worse, really, but he'd gotten his revenge.

[The Jenn]

Lior's unconscious wanderings took him many places these days. He tended to stay near the Capital, one death calling him after another in this center of urban living. There were always fights, always elderly, always mistreatment and neglect and illness. Sometimes it was a child dying at birth. The people in the hospital knew of him, knew and stayed away. He scared many of them witless. The young children would have been the hardest, if he'd cared or worried about that sort of thing, since they couldn't be brought back. Couldn't be made any younger. Unfortunate, but that was life. And death.

He drifted into an alleyway, fresh deaths calling him forward. His dead, glassy eyes took in the bodies before him and he considered. Two children, old enough to receive a second chance at life. He had the ability still to use this month. They had much of life still ahead of them. And their souls... would be good additions to his collection. But he could only take one.

Another moment's stillness and he drifted towards the ___, kneeling by the deer's side and taking a slow breath. Then his power activated and he closed his eyes, feeling the waves of pleasure through the thick blanketing cocoon of the cloak's own consciousness. He started purring loudly. Then, when the child woke, he would plunge his hand directly through its eye.

((Crap. Was it the boy or girl you wanted revivified?))

[Nako]

The boy would be the obvious choice, still so very much in one piece despite the gory sight of his throat literally sticking out away from his head. Slowly, the tubes of his throat slid back into place, veins pulling together and skin and fur knitting toward one another seamlessly from the magical power of the strange angel of death. Bruises lightened, and a heart still warm began to tremble.

And then began to beat.

That was probably the first sound he was aware of as life came back upon him. Even as he was unconscious, there was sensation and thought, firing lights and displays behind his eyelids as the brain began to function once more. His whole body was alive, sending impulses at a frenzied rate. But they were working backwards.

Years of knee scrapes and superficial injuries melted away as he grew -younger-, the effects of puberty being reversed as he went from a young man of 15 years to becoming merely... a child once more.

His first moments of consciousness was met with a strange sensation of fingers opening his left eye. Sightlessly it rolled about, pupil contracting and dilating in an attempt to make sense of what was around it. For a moment, it picked up the blurry white sight of a strange highlander creature before fingers reached, pressing intimately into his socket uncomfortably, but at first not painfully. There was a feeling of reverse pressure as the grasp around it tightened.

There was a 'popping' sensation that he was strangely able to compare to that of getting a baby tooth pulled. Well, aside from the sudden blackness on that side of his face, wetness down his cheek.

Oh, and searing pain.

Dyspar screamed, head sloughing side to side as blood poured from the wound. His good eye opened as he gazed at his 'attacker', expecting to find the same Pale man that had attacked him earlier. But it wasn't. It was something worse. The purring creature seemed more worried about the bloody mess in his hand that was supposedly his eye.

"WHY?? WHY?!" Dyspar screeched, his voice coming out higher than it should be. He stumbled back from the man, turning to run. His hooves came into contact with a body and he fell. W-what was that? He whimpered, turning his good eye to see the chains that were foiling his legs. The chains of his sister; butterfly wings shimmering delicately in the moonlight against a backdrop of coagulated blood. Her head was not on her neck.

She was more than dead. She was unsaveable. Nothing in his mind could conjure some hope that perhaps his sister could be revived.

Utter helplessness.

"Why... why not her?" Dyspar whimpered, turning back toward the emaciated and distant-eyed feline. He - it, was staring at his eye with reverence, face wracked with an expression that was almost ... dirty expression.

He choked back a sob, pulling at his sister's body. He had to take it with him.. to bury it; to do something!

But it was too heavy.

The head. The head is something he could carry.

Dyspar would fix this.