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tvk2011-11-16 02:02 am
profcharisma.livejournal.com) wrote in tvk2011-11-16 02:02 am
Entry tags:
Fourth lecture -- video/action during the Dark Hour
New shadows had appeared-- ones that, judging by the video posts that he'd seen on the network, were some kind of personification of neuroses and insecurities. That much was clear, especially taking into account what they had been told in that odd message a few days ago; they were being forced to confront their inner demons in a very literal sense.
Waver wouldn't have denied that he had demons of his own, and he was certain that there was a Shadow that looked like him running around somewhere during the Dark Hour. That didn't mean that he wanted anyone else to come across it. He had spent too long erasing his flaws to have them aired out again like dirty laundry for anyone who cared to look-- he'd put too much effort into creating the calm and flawless facade that was Lord El-Melloi to have it torn apart by a doppelganger.
Instead of waiting for his Shadow to find him, he was going to go searching for it. And he was going to kill it before it had the change to open its mouth.
He walked through the streets and back alleys, determination in every sharp, angry snap of his limbs. Whatever normal Shadows he came across, he struck down with hardly a thought-- he wasn't here to study them tonight. Not them. All he wanted was one particular Shadow, one that didn't seem to be very willing to come out to meet him--
He caught something out of the corner of his eye in one of the deeper shadows. For a moment, he thought he saw a brief flash of something human-shaped and the glint of yellow eyes, but it was gone before he could confirm it.
So it was shadowing him.
He kept walking, same as he had before; he didn't want to give up the fact that he knew he was being tailed. Judging by how these Shadows seemed to like to talk, especially to the people they stemmed from, he had a damn good guess that it was going to make itself known to talk at him for a bit. And if it was anything like him, it definitely was going to say something. It didn't matter when it felt like coming out; he knew it was there, and that was what mattered. It couldn't get the advantage of him.
The shadows in front of him were fuller and darker than the others, mostly because of the figure standing in them. And when that figure stepped out into the light, Lord El-Melloi found himself speechless.
The Shadow before him did not have his face now, but wore the face he had ten years ago. He was staring down at his nineteen year old self, identical down to every detail except the eyes-- instead of his own dark green, they were unnaturally golden.
"It's rude to stare. And unfitting of a magus of your standing, besides. Not that it matters-- Waver Velvet is Waver Velvet, even if you call him Lord El-Melloi. That's a fundamental that never changes."
He drew the sword that hung at his hip. He was glad, not for the first time, that he had taken the time to learn some skills in fighting.
"I haven't the time nor the desire to listen to you."
"You don't think that I'm a threat at all, do you? Just because I look like you did, all those years ago?" the Shadow watched him with a gimlet stare. "Stupid. But you really aren't very good at thinking things through, are you? If you were, then maybe you wouldn't have been such a worthless Master."
"And you're trying to distract me. That's an awfully transparent ruse." He raised the sword; its edge glinted in the low light. He would not listen, he would not listen--
"You were a worthless Master, and a worthless magus, and that's why he died. You damned him by summoning him."
The words hit him like a spear; he could almost feel the haft sticking out of his chest.
"It's your fault that he was killed, and no one else's. You were never worthy of having him as your Servant. You were never worthy of having him as your King."
The tip of his sword dropped just half an inch. The only sign of shock on his features was the slight widening of his eyes and the blanched, bloodless pallor of his face.
"You should have died with him, but even that would've been too great an honor for you."
That younger version of his face smiled, showing no mirth but plenty of teeth.
"Fortunately, I can correct this mistake."
He raised his arm, holding it outstretched towards Lord El-Melloi with two fingers pointing at him.
(Video)
The feed clicked on half a moment before Lord El-Melloi hit the ground, having turned on after it fell from his pocket. For several moments, he is the only in thing in the frame, lying still and unmoving. It is difficult to see much of him, as part of his face is blocked by how his arm is lying, and more of it is obscured by his dark hair, but what can be seen of it is covered in something shiny and slick and possibly red. It's hard to tell in this light.
Then there is the sound of footsteps, and the phone is picked up by an unseen person; they kept the camera facing away from them, never revealing any more than a few brief glimpses of a hand and sleeve. Very deliberately, the camera was turned toward the prone form of Lord El-Melloi, lying on the pavement with a small pool of liquid forming on the ground around his face. This picture stayed on the screen for several long moments-- he did not move.
Then it dropped, and the feed cut out.
Waver wouldn't have denied that he had demons of his own, and he was certain that there was a Shadow that looked like him running around somewhere during the Dark Hour. That didn't mean that he wanted anyone else to come across it. He had spent too long erasing his flaws to have them aired out again like dirty laundry for anyone who cared to look-- he'd put too much effort into creating the calm and flawless facade that was Lord El-Melloi to have it torn apart by a doppelganger.
Instead of waiting for his Shadow to find him, he was going to go searching for it. And he was going to kill it before it had the change to open its mouth.
He walked through the streets and back alleys, determination in every sharp, angry snap of his limbs. Whatever normal Shadows he came across, he struck down with hardly a thought-- he wasn't here to study them tonight. Not them. All he wanted was one particular Shadow, one that didn't seem to be very willing to come out to meet him--
He caught something out of the corner of his eye in one of the deeper shadows. For a moment, he thought he saw a brief flash of something human-shaped and the glint of yellow eyes, but it was gone before he could confirm it.
So it was shadowing him.
He kept walking, same as he had before; he didn't want to give up the fact that he knew he was being tailed. Judging by how these Shadows seemed to like to talk, especially to the people they stemmed from, he had a damn good guess that it was going to make itself known to talk at him for a bit. And if it was anything like him, it definitely was going to say something. It didn't matter when it felt like coming out; he knew it was there, and that was what mattered. It couldn't get the advantage of him.
The shadows in front of him were fuller and darker than the others, mostly because of the figure standing in them. And when that figure stepped out into the light, Lord El-Melloi found himself speechless.
The Shadow before him did not have his face now, but wore the face he had ten years ago. He was staring down at his nineteen year old self, identical down to every detail except the eyes-- instead of his own dark green, they were unnaturally golden.
"It's rude to stare. And unfitting of a magus of your standing, besides. Not that it matters-- Waver Velvet is Waver Velvet, even if you call him Lord El-Melloi. That's a fundamental that never changes."
He drew the sword that hung at his hip. He was glad, not for the first time, that he had taken the time to learn some skills in fighting.
"I haven't the time nor the desire to listen to you."
"You don't think that I'm a threat at all, do you? Just because I look like you did, all those years ago?" the Shadow watched him with a gimlet stare. "Stupid. But you really aren't very good at thinking things through, are you? If you were, then maybe you wouldn't have been such a worthless Master."
"And you're trying to distract me. That's an awfully transparent ruse." He raised the sword; its edge glinted in the low light. He would not listen, he would not listen--
"You were a worthless Master, and a worthless magus, and that's why he died. You damned him by summoning him."
The words hit him like a spear; he could almost feel the haft sticking out of his chest.
"It's your fault that he was killed, and no one else's. You were never worthy of having him as your Servant. You were never worthy of having him as your King."
The tip of his sword dropped just half an inch. The only sign of shock on his features was the slight widening of his eyes and the blanched, bloodless pallor of his face.
"You should have died with him, but even that would've been too great an honor for you."
That younger version of his face smiled, showing no mirth but plenty of teeth.
"Fortunately, I can correct this mistake."
He raised his arm, holding it outstretched towards Lord El-Melloi with two fingers pointing at him.
(Video)
The feed clicked on half a moment before Lord El-Melloi hit the ground, having turned on after it fell from his pocket. For several moments, he is the only in thing in the frame, lying still and unmoving. It is difficult to see much of him, as part of his face is blocked by how his arm is lying, and more of it is obscured by his dark hair, but what can be seen of it is covered in something shiny and slick and possibly red. It's hard to tell in this light.
Then there is the sound of footsteps, and the phone is picked up by an unseen person; they kept the camera facing away from them, never revealing any more than a few brief glimpses of a hand and sleeve. Very deliberately, the camera was turned toward the prone form of Lord El-Melloi, lying on the pavement with a small pool of liquid forming on the ground around his face. This picture stayed on the screen for several long moments-- he did not move.
Then it dropped, and the feed cut out.
[action]
[action]
Thank you.
[His voice sounds a little thick, mostly because a, he was bleeding everywhere and b, his nose was busted. His shirt was probably ruined.]
[action]
Don't worry about it. Let's just get the hell out of here.
[action]
Of course.
[He wasn't exactly steady on his feet, on account of the concussion that he almost certainly had, but he was mobile and probably wouldn't have to be carried.]
[All sorry asses, move out.]
[action]
...I'm starting to think all our respective duplicates may want us dead.
[action]
That's likely, considering that they've tried to kill us.
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]