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.
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?"]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sheriffexe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
robowest2017-02-26 02:00 pm
no subject
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?"]