It's... quiet. The morning is quiet and dull and even the animals lingering on the fringes of town seem a bit at a loss for what to do. The town as a whole seems to be waiting and it isn't until the Sheriff leaves the station carrying a wooden gibbet easily in his arms that things seem to perk up. He drops it into the dirt, shoves it in with a grunt and then heads back into the station.
A few moments later Will Graham follows him out, leashed to him by a rope binding his hands and a blindfold around his eyes. In the Sheriff's other hand is a bucket. He brings them to the stick and drops the bucket upside down on the ground, helping him to stand up on it and pulling the noose around his neck a moment after. He uses the excess of rope around his hands to bind him to the stick.
He turns back to the town after, glancing at the few stray animals that have set up on the porches to watch. A crow nearby caws out from on top of the Saloon sign. The Sheriff looks to the hotel and a moment later, the bells on top of the church begin to ring. He calls out, louder than naturally possible,
"Execution time, folks! Percy Jackson has been chosen as executioner. Come on down and watch."
And then, as indifferent as ever, he pops a piece of tobacco. |
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robowest2017-02-26 02:00 pm
EXECUTION
I'm obligated to provide anything you need to assist you today. If you don't got anything you want, have at it.
[ That's it, it seems. The rest is up to Percy. ]
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Sheriff Hal. [It's both a greeting and a command.] If you would, I'd like to be provided with a sword. [And his eyes narrow a bit.] You know exactly what kind I'd like, seeing how you never gave it to me. [He knows Hal took it from him, but he's questioning if the Sheriff is capable of providing him with a duplicate of his own blade, depowered and for once capable of hurting mortals.]
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Yep, there is Percy's sword. He's still chuckling as he hands it over to him, giving a shake of his head. ]
You sure were hung up about that, huh? But here you are.
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He's missed it, truthfully. Riptide remains the only sword that's properly balanced in his hand, the leather grip worn and familiar in his palm, the blade itself glowing a little but not nearly as much as celestial bronze should. He weighs the weapon to get use to it, six weeks of its absence fading and it's a feeling like coming home.]
It's by my own hands, Hal. Still following the rules.
[With that he takes his sword and he approaches Will, standing in front of the man with a curiously thoughtful expression. He won't remove the blindfold, but he seems to assess him properly now. It seems it's just between the two of them now.]
I once told you that suffocating was one of the scariest things, Mr. Graham. Do you believe you deserve to have the noose loosened at all?
[It's funny, actually, calling him Mr. Graham, after all this time.
"I think I can ask you the same thing, Mr. Graham."
"Will, actually. Mr. Graham is what my students call me, and I'm not really looking to teach anything here."
He idly wonders if Will's aware of what he's taught Percy in their time together. He idly wonders just when he learned how to play the game, too.]
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Then Percy's voice cuts in and that's all Will needs to hear to tip the scales to awake. The blindfold doesn't do much for Will, his imagination filling the gaps. He can feel the emotion in the air, soak it up like a sponge, the disgust and the fear and the bone-deep exhaustion. He can hear the ravenstag behind him, breath heavy and smelling of raw, rancid meat. He can feel Percy who --
Asks him about suffocating.
Will can't help the smile that slides across his face, fond despite it all. Of course he asks about suffocation when isn't it Percy who is feeling the pressure closing in on him? He wonders if Percy knows how to drown. ]
Does it matter? Either I breathe or I don't. I've been falling long enough that a noose doesn't change the impact.
[ He is glad then, that he told Percy how they die. Or how they live, if Hannibal has his way. ]
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"It's a scary place, my head. Worse than any murder competition."
Is Will even aware of what's to happen? He knows that Percy would come for him. He had received his warning.
"There are several things I won't apologize for. I won't apologize for what I'm going to do tomorrow. I won't apologize for not being able to look you in the eye anymore. I won't apologize for feelings I have for you now. Because you were right, Will. You're not the Will Graham of yesterday, and that's the part that I think I regret the most."
And yet...he tilts his head before moving to remove the noose. It's in the way, he thinks. It shouldn't be in the way. Will's bound to the stick and bound by his hands and bound by his eyes, and Percy is unafraid as he continues to hold Riptide at his side and contemplate.]
Yes. I know. And you once told me that should you die, you'd take the most straightforward option, as little pain as possible. How did that go again, Mr. Graham? The point isn't to suffer, but just die so you could be with him again?
Tell me. [And here Will will feel the point of the blade very lightly rest right on his stomach, tracing a pattern over scars Percy knows are there. It's not enough to cut, but it's to keep Will here and grounded in reality, not allowing him the advantage of being locked in his head.] Tell me, do you still believe that death is impermanent? That everything is just beyond reach?
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There is no noose in the stream but as it's removed, the sky brightens around him. Will winces before casting his line. He doesn't expect a bite but the action is soothing enough. The line drops in the water, a bit away from Percy and he watches it with no real goal in mind.
Percy speaks and Will sighs, there is little he can give in answer to make this just. He opens his mouth to reply but then he feels the tip of the blade there, on the smile Hannibal left him, on that scar that leaves him marked. He was gutted once, he wonders if it'll happen again.
The stream, he notices, begins to fill with chunks. There is a girl's hand, an eye, the stub of an arm -- he looks away from the stream and to Percy again. ]
If it wasn't, what would be the point of all this? There's cruelty in letting the dead be beyond reach, there's mercy in letting them just be dead. You've learned this intimately, and you know I can't -- you know that there isn't any other option for me than this.
[ He pauses, considering and -- ]
I said the point wasn't to suffer, to end it quick. But that isn't my option anymore, is it? Do you want to punish me, Percy, or do you just want to kill me? [ ... ] I'm glad he gave you your sword.
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"If we find the right culprit it's not revenge. It's justice."
"It's revenge if you do it, and you don't make it as fast as you possibly can."
He found the culprit. He knows prayers go unanswered in this place, but he prays that Natalie will think to forgive him for not making this as fast as possible.
The tip of Riptide continues to poke and prod in places Percy knows Will's been injured, keeping him tethered and aware. Perhaps it's cruel. But what happened to Natalie Goodman, and moreso, what happened to Annabeth Chase that Will was aware of was equally cruel. This isn't cruel enough. This isn't the Will Graham he knows. This...is a monster.
"I've killed plenty of monsters before, Dr. Lecter. What's one more if it means saving other people from someone's cruelty?"]
I know that, too. It's why I know you will receive no mercy on the other side. It's why I know you will remain there, watching and waiting and being surrounded by people who now know who you and Dr. Lecter are. Somehow? I think that might be worse than killing you myself, you know? Feeling them. Knowing what they think. Not being able to disappear like you so desperately want.
["It's like a sponge. Whatever you feel, I absorb. I can see it, I can understand it, and I feel it -- whether I want to or not. "
"I'm committed to him though, I'll say that much. So I can understand how you feel about Annabeth."
No. He knows now that he was wrong. What Will and Hannibal feel for each other is a fucked up, twisted dirty kind of love. Love and cruelty often tie together, and strangely, he thinks of what Aphrodite once said to him.
“Love conquers all. Look at Helen and Paris. Did they let anything come between them? Follow your heart.”
“But... I don't know where it's going. My heart, I mean.”
“Not knowing is half the fun. Exquisitely painful, isn't it? Not being sure who you love and who loves you? Don't worry. I'm not going to let this be easy and boring for you. No, I have some wonderful surprises in store. Anguish. Indecision. Oh, you just wait.”
The sword starts to trace its way up, a thin line right up the middle of Will's chest.]
I'm glad, too. [It's said softly, though he doesn't answer the first question.] You once asked me if I was bound to be a hero or bred to kill given who I am. Do you remember what I said to you then? [There's a light twhack with the flat of his blade into Will's ribs.] I think this is my next war. Or, at least, my next battle. You once asked me to understand, Mr. Graham. So why? I'd like to understand why you did this to her. Why did you allow this to happen?
Did you default? Or did you simply look too much and saw something you didn't like?
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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.
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If I have my way, Mr. Graham, I will bring others with me. I will be the final victor, but nobody else is going to die. I'm not letting other people die if I can help it. This isn't how it should have been. I will win, like I told you, but maybe not in the way you think. But I think the luck may be appreciated, given the circumstances.
[He pauses. He pauses and listens and feels his sword arm grow tense. It's then his eyes drift to Winston and he feels his heart clench. He turns away from Will then to face the dog.]
...go on, boy. You don't need to see this. Go with the others. [He doesn't think to tell Milla and Noctis to protect Damian and Papika. He knows they will. He looks to Will again.]
Like I told you then, I am a contradiction. I'm choosing to kill you to save everyone else. I told you this before. All I've ever wanted to do was save everyone. Call it..."utilitarian", again. I hope you still find that admirable even after this is over. I never wanted to see you hurt either, but you're not you. I don't know who you are anymore. We're strangers, aren't we, Mr. Graham? You asked me to forget about you. I'll try.
[He inhales.] You were right, as usual.
[He doesn't want to hear the rest, doesn't know if he can keep himself focused enough, keeps his rage burning hot in his veins instead of giving in to the sympathy he has for the situation Will's stuck in. Will brought this upon himself. The old Will, not this Will. Who is this Will? This Will is a stranger, a monster, someone for Percy to slay as he's been born and raised to do.
And yet...as the blade traces up and to the left, he thinks of two things more that make him realize he may not be much better than the old Will Graham.
"I was losing my mind but what did it matter if I was saving people, you know?"
"All I've wanted to do was save people, Will."
"Killing must feel good to God, too. He does it all the time, and are we not created in his image?"
There's no such thing as God, Will."]
This is goodbye, Mr. Graham. [And with that it's lightning quick, the sword wielded in his hand in the way that makes it painfully clear that this is his element. He was born for this, a strike, a final blow. Without much warning and without a chance for Will to breathe, the sword sinks straight into Will's chest and straight through his heart, piercing the organ solidly through. The blade drags up and up, up Will's chest and to his neck where the noose was. He frowns a bit as it gets stuck on bone but he persists, power behind his strike as he cuts through and diagonal to Will's throat.
He will never feel his heart again. His throat will never swallow again. He will never be again.
Blood runs down his blade and onto his hand and he doesn't care, leaving it in Will's body for a moment longer as he simply stares.
"I've killed plenty of monsters before. What's one more?"]
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Will Graham is dead. He remains contemplative before he slowly pulls out Riptide, flicking blood off of it and giving little regard to where it splatters. He wishes he had a scabbard, but this will do.]
...sorry you all had to see that. [But it's all he says. Instead, he takes the time to cut Will's body down from the stick and he grabs him, picking him up and beginning to drag him through town toward the bonfire.
Rest easy, Whole Ass. He'll take care of everything from here.]