[ The terrible thing is it works. The stream continues to pollute and Will can't help but watch it. There is Natalie, raw and torn apart with teeth. Then there are others, cooked and braised and served to anyone who accepted the offer. He sees them too and when he looks at Percy again, the water around him stays clear and clean. Of course it does. ]
Is it worse? Or is it purgatory, Percy? A weighing of sins. By the time you die here, your secrets are brought to light and then you wait. You wait until the ultimate decision is reached. Do you reach your nirvana or do you cease to exist? Isn't that what the last person chooses? Which will be you, won't it. You'll be the final victor.
[ The sword does it's job though, with each almost too close press against Will, he isn't able to keep his stream. He smells dirt instead of river, feels the heat of the sun instead of the shade of the trees. It's conflicting and he hates it and he almost wishes it was a quicker death.
But he does not deserve that, so Percy can take what he wants. He owes a cruel death to Percy. ]
A contradiction. Will you win and lose? Will you kill and save? What are your opposites, will you pick just one? I wished you luck, Percy. I still do.
[ There is a wince at the hit of sword against his ribs but he doesn't struggle. He just continues to stay there, bound and helpless and waiting. Percy needs this and he'll give it to him. It's the least he could do. ]
I had to. She killed him so her flesh was mine. Hannibal wouldn't have it any other way and I'm bound to him.
[ There is no way he can explain this. There is no way. He prefers Percy not to ask, not to consider the extent of it. ]
I've always seen. I've always known. This is always how it ends. You don't want to hear anything besides that and there is a reason I told you goodbye. Give me death, Perseus. It's what I owe you.
no subject
Is it worse? Or is it purgatory, Percy? A weighing of sins. By the time you die here, your secrets are brought to light and then you wait. You wait until the ultimate decision is reached. Do you reach your nirvana or do you cease to exist? Isn't that what the last person chooses? Which will be you, won't it. You'll be the final victor.
[ The sword does it's job though, with each almost too close press against Will, he isn't able to keep his stream. He smells dirt instead of river, feels the heat of the sun instead of the shade of the trees. It's conflicting and he hates it and he almost wishes it was a quicker death.
But he does not deserve that, so Percy can take what he wants. He owes a cruel death to Percy. ]
A contradiction. Will you win and lose? Will you kill and save? What are your opposites, will you pick just one? I wished you luck, Percy. I still do.
[ There is a wince at the hit of sword against his ribs but he doesn't struggle. He just continues to stay there, bound and helpless and waiting. Percy needs this and he'll give it to him. It's the least he could do. ]
I had to. She killed him so her flesh was mine. Hannibal wouldn't have it any other way and I'm bound to him.
[ There is no way he can explain this. There is no way. He prefers Percy not to ask, not to consider the extent of it. ]
I've always seen. I've always known. This is always how it ends. You don't want to hear anything besides that and there is a reason I told you goodbye. Give me death, Perseus. It's what I owe you.