dishonored meme

[wolfofdunwall]

***

a dishonored meme

'ever since the empress died, it's been getting darker in dunwall. but it's that moment just before the light goes that matters most of all.'

the isles are caught amid fractious days, and you find yourself living among them. perhaps - probably - you’ve lived here all your life. perhaps you’ve been brought here by some magical means. whatever the case, you’ve made or will make a life among the isles.

if you were born in or around the isles, what’s your lot in life? are you nobility? a person of great means? a member of the city watch? a shipmate? an inventor? perhaps a civilian just trying to make your way through the rat plague. perhaps a thief, a gang member, an assassin. perhaps a witch or a devotee of the outsider, or perhaps an overseer, scourge of the occult.

when you comment, add a little bit about who your character is in the dishonored world. what your occupation is (if you have one), what you think about recent events, what you tend to do with your days. (if you want to give multiple options re: who they are, feel free!)

you might also want to offer some prompts: scenario ideas, picture prompts, quotes, words, whatever you like.

Comments

[excultro]

[ This wasn't part of the agreement.

Being pulled from his home and his work out into the late-morning sun, being faced with this bizarre wreck of a man wasn't part of the agreement. Beholding a letter written in blood wasn't part of the agreement (though really, that's the least surprising part of Mitsuhide's arrival; of course the man would write in blood; of course he fucking would). Dealing face-to-face with Mitsuhide wasn't part of the agreement.

Then again, there'd been a substantial part of Daud that doubted any piece of their agreement would garner adherence. And at least the man's here, and not out hounding Xu Shu. With that in mind, Daud thinks he can tolerate this visit. Keep it brief, keep it basic, and get the bastard out of here with clearer instructions for the next letter. Tell him to mail it, or for fuck's sake even send it through one of those blooding-speaking birds he's so fond of.

Leaving the matter of the letter aside for a moment, he looks over Mitsuhide - the paleness, the near-unreadable set of his body - and sighs internally. He should let the bastard stay standing. Only Daud doesn't have any interest in managing a collapsed Mitsuhide, and he doesn't doubt this man would stand and stands and chatter away as if nothing were awry, right up to the point of passing out. ]

Are you bleeding right now.

[veryhuman]

Am I?

[ Mitsuhide presses his lips into a thin line as his eyes grow wide, looking every bit as a child who has been caught in a lie. The corners of his pressed lips curl until a wide, wide smile breaks across his mouth. Turning his head, he starts to giggle, starts to laugh. High-pitched and manic as he steps backwards, with his arm curled around his stomach and letter still clenched in one hand, he laughs louder. ]

Yes ... yes, I am. [ When his head lifts, his eyes glow with a bright green glow. The small area around him starts to darken as a dark mist spreads out from his very body. ] I had hoped ... I wondered if you would notice. Yes, I wondered. And you did... if you hadn't, that would have been another thing... another thing entirely. [ Lifting his other hand, he shows his palm is red and blood is flowing down from his wrist. ]

... interesting. [ The shape of the stone is turning into a human. The outsides are cracking, cracking. You cannot remain a sinking stone when you see someone you wish to save. His eyes narrow, still glowing green in the bellowing black fog. Or can you? Well, that's another matter... so let us set it aside for now. ]

Ah, ah... yes...? [ Straightening, he drops his arm away from holding his side. The crumpled letter is lifted before he clenches it in his hand -- blood that should have been dried on the paper starts to flow readily onto the ground. ] Well, then, everyone... shall I read my letter?

[ From the black miasma, skulls slowly manifest covered in green flame. They chatter their teeth before flying underneath the bleeding letter to coat themself in the blood. Circling around Mitsuhide, the skulls seem to turn their empty eyesockets onto Daud. ]

Well, then... let's start with the beginning. "Greetings to you, Daud..."

[ The skulls continue to snap together until the bones of the teeth fracture into sharpened, irregular pieces. As he keeps reading his nonsensical letter in which he talks about the weather, his own health (quite poor but he is a mange-ridden dog, so that's understandable, ha-ha), his happiness in writing letters once more -- his summoned spirits dart about to slam themselves into the assassin (break the solid bone of their skull-bodies into flesh), attempt to bite into the arms and legs (with those awful jagged edges of teeth), and make pests of themselves (snapping, snapping their bone jaws together).

But ... Mitsuhide has no desire to kill the man. (Well, no, he really would like to kill him, but now just is not the time.) In truth, his game now is to bully him a little for bullying him away from Xu Shu. Just to tease him a little for being so nervous about him! There's nothing to be nervous about! Even the skulls are low-level spirits under his control. Easily dispensed of with even an unblessed blade!

What is there to be worried about?! What a worrywart! What a worrywart! A little bullying is just what Daud needs to loosen up! He's too stiff! Too stiff like stone! But a little blood and cut flesh easily loosens the flesh! Easily! Yes, that will lead us to the path of humanity and friendship! He giggles merrily. Then, you can start to laugh with me! Let's start to laugh with one another! Let's start to laugh over this little prank! ]

[excultro]

[ It's sorcery. It's sorcery or something like, and he can't dwell on the strangeness because he needs to react, the clamor of Mitsuhide's words shaking through his ears (what, what is the bastard on about?) even as the skulls snap close and painful.

His gun's going to do him no good. Even the knife at his side, now brandished, can only manage so much. He cracks one skull just above the eye sockets, catches another in the jaws and gives a sharp twist. One catches at the thick material of his glove and he brings the dagger's handle crushing into its hollow socket. But there are too many and he feels them drawing blood, sudden snags of pain that flickers without holding his focus. Best to keep his attention fixed on the attackers. Best to continue striking. Best to determine the best next phase of attack, because this isn't working as well as he needs.

He doesn't want to attack Mitsuhide. Expects it'll yield a fight beyond what he can predict; not beyond what he can handle (he doesn't think, though there's a doubt, a minor discordant wondering), but beyond what he cares to deal with right now. Because he expects a fight with this man might need to end in death. (Because it's be easier, so tempting to strike this one down and end the trouble he's caused.) Because Daud would rather not kill. Not now. Not anymore.

(Only it would. It'd be easier. Be better, in ways.)

He also doesn't want to employ the bastard's powers. Has vowed against drawing on the Void, sworn to himself that he'd keep to his own skills. But if he has to. If this continues. He'll bring time to a halt and crack these summoned skulls one by one, if they can even be so disposed. (Catch Mitsuhide by the throat, if he thinks it might help.)

The bastard's giggling. Mitsuhide's giggling.

Of course he is. Somehow, it seems appropriate. Only natural.

And there's a question: What precisely is Mitsuhide's purpose in coming here? Because strange as he is, Daud doesn't doubt the bastard's got some fixed point. Doesn't doubt that Mitsuhide moves through the world in part by fixing on one seeming purpose after another, dragging himself along bit by grating bit. ]

Stop this. Now.

[ He elbows a skull aside, ignoring the throb of nausea-edged pain, and strikes another aside, barely keeps another from biting at his jaw. ]

Don't be ridiculous.

[veryhuman]

[ Bending forward, his incessant giggling explodes into laughter. Loud, hysterical. It gives the impression he is seconds from falling to his knees and beating his fists into the ground, gasping for breath. But he remains upright. The sounds of breaking bones, of struggling violence, and the scent of blood makes for the best of jokes to be shared with men dyed red. ]

Ridiculous? Then, shall we bring this to a close?

[ The punchline. With a sweeping arm gesture, the skulls fall back from their assault before flying upwards. Up, up, up. The fog bellows out, spreading over the small space they occupy. The letter is still held tight in his hand -- he lifts it up for Daud to see before bringing his fist down toward the ground.

The skulls burst into bright green flame before shooting themselvea down on a suicidal crash course. It is when they are just a few feet away that they halt, that everything halted. The black fog disperses under the sunlight's rays. A beat passes as the fire dies off the skulls -- and they float harmlessly back to Mitsuhide. One plops itself down on the top of the madman's head while the others bite and tug to pull his hair in every direction. ]

"Sincerely, Mitsuhide Akechi."

[ Giggling, he concludes his letter. Tossing the crumpled, wet letter to the side, he smiles the same wide-wide smile that he greeted Daud with. The ground that the letter rests upon turns a sickeningly black, blue and bubbles ominously. Releasing Mitsuhide's hair, the skulls lift themselves up into the air before slamming downward -- shattering and ending their reign of terror violently. ]

What do you think? Are your sides not splitting with laughter? No need to hide your amusement from me! Please, let all your merriment out freely!

[ Holding his still bleeding hand out to him: ]

Come! Let all your insides out!

[excultro]

[ His breath's a little too sharp now, his muscles drawn tense against the spate of self-defense and the sudden shattering of the skulls, against envisionings of what damage might next follow. He'd been ready to attempt a leap out of the way of the skulls. Had been ready to attempt a leap at Mitsuhide if necessary, half-thinking how best to draw a blade across the man's throat, thinking whether it'd be swifter and more certain to dagger him through the chest. Only that hadn't proven necessary, and Daud feels partly sick over his own thoughts; it's the old instinct kicking in, it's self-preservation, but he hasn't been so close to drawing death in years. Hasn't felt how easy it'd be to bring about an ending, his hands once more bathed in blood.

He doesn't like this man. (If this is a man, a human. If this isn't some half-wreck, total wretch withdrawn from whatever humanity he may once have possessed. What's happened to the earth, now bubbling? What curse had been contained within that letter? And what kind of magic is it that this man possesses?) He doesn't care for what Mitsuhide draws out in him, or the acts that he necessitates. And so Daud glowers, adjusting his grip on his dagger, telling himself to put the weapon away, shove aside the temptation to silence this bastard. Finally sheathes the dagger, eyes fixed on Mitsuhide. ]

I don't think so.

[ Meaning he won't be offering even the ghost of a laugh. Meaning he doesn't intend to let Mitsuhide split his sides one way or another, if that's what the moonstruck bastard has in mind.

Mitsuhide's been enjoying himself. The giggling, the declarations, that obscene smile all suggest as much, though to Daud's eye - to anyone's eye, he'd warrant - it's a warped sort of pleasure. Exulting in panic and pain. Relishing the very scent of blood (and yes, yes, Daud's bleeding now, can feel five or six or seven wounds where the skulls bit sharp).

Daud can feel his teeth gritting together. Feels the telltale gathering of tension at the back of his jaw, the beginning grind of a headache. ]

What do you mean by this.

[veryhuman]

Oh, very well... you may keep your laughter to yourself.

[ His bleeding hand pulls back as he assumes Daud is the kind that would not want to share his merry giggling over jokes with one such as himself. ]

Ah, dear, if I keep bleeding I might end up collapsing... one moment, please, one moment. [ A series of chuckles passes his lips as he turns his arm over to see the wound still bleeding. To anyone else's eyes, it is a shallow cut and should not still run red. Rotating his arm one way and the other, he shakes his wrist a little like there is a cramp in his hand. And the wound immediately closes as he breaks the curse he put on himself. ]

What do I mean by this? [ Lifting his hand to his chin, he pinches it between two fingers as he tilts his head. He is attempting to take a pose that he thinks Daud would like and that Daud, himself, has posed in. Look, Mitsuhide says in his actions, I am pretending to think like you think. ] Hm ... let's see... what could I mean by this?

[ He giggles at how Daud is trying so hard to hold back his laughter! He giggles because that is obviously what the tension in his jaw. He giggles because the two of them are now properly sharing a joke together and he looks away to laugh. ] Ah, what could I possibly mean?

[excultro]

[ Mitsuhide. Mitsuhide. Look at this man. Does he appear particularly prone to giggles??

And by the Void. By the fucking Void, it's like talking to - being talked at by - the Outsider himself. The questions without answer, suggestions toward some meaning that only the speaker can perceive. Daud didn't ask for this. Daud absolutely didn't ask for this (though if it's the cost of keeping this bastard away from Xu Shu, he'll accept it; after all, he's been prepared for this breed of periphrastic speaking, if not for the floating skulls).

A question to consider is what kind of magic this man possesses. It's nothing Daud's ever seen before, nor does it sign of the Void. Whatever, whoever Mitsuhide is, he controls powers that evade Daud's knowing. Where he'd gotten them is a mystery. What he can do with them is an unsettling idea. ]

I don't care for riddles. And I'm not one for guessing.

You should have sent your letter.

[ There's a quiet thought, growing the longer he watches this strange excuse for a man. If Mitsuhide's bent their agreement so far as to speak his letter rather than sending it through the mail, what else might he have twisted? Right now, the thought's barely discernible, but with each quirk of Mitsuhide's, it speaks just a little stronger. ]

[veryhuman]

Perhaps? Perhaps. But that would infect the messenger. [ He pulls his hand away from his face to gesture toward the bubbling liquid at their feet. ] You may not have found it so humorous if the messenger were to attempt to kill you instead of skulls tugging playfully at your limbs.

"Do not kill the messenger." That is what even I know. If I send a letter laced with my blood, it would most definitely get the messenger killed. [ He giggles, mouth closed but lips curl up into a smile. ] I would have liked to see what would have happened if you touched it, though. [ His eyes lift up towards the sky. ] Our magic does not mix well. His is very old, but mine is... [ He squints at a cloud, tilting his head. ]

But no magic ever mixes well with others. They don't like to play well with one another. [ A click of his tongue. ] You're already marked and so if I successfully marked you... I may end up being scolded for it? [ His voice lifts as he turns the statement into a question. He tilts his head the other way, eyes still focusing on a cloud's shape. ]

If I was scolded, would your heart feel lighter in your chest? Or would it sink into your stomach? [ Mitsuhide smiles. It is filled with a sickness that cannot be described. ]

But you had a question for me... could you be more specific with it? "What do I mean by this." I have a lot of reasons and a lot of "this." So if you could narrow it down... I will answer your question.

[excultro]

Try writing in ink.

[ None of this bodes well.

This talk about and these signs of blood-laced letters bound with magic. This talk of murderous messengers, of scolding. This talk of mixing magic. And why is this bastard fuck talking about the Outsider. Daud feels himself turning cold, a little nauseous at the core. Feels his shoulders gathering into tension

'I would have liked to see what would have happened if you touched it.' 'If I successfully marked you.' 'What would have happened if you touched it.' 'If I.' 'If I.'

The man means him harm; that much has been clear and is only becoming more evident. What's drawn Mitsuhide's interest is unclear. Whether Mitsuhide wants something specific with Daud is also unclear. And there are plenty of questions to be asked, but one in particular strains to make itself known. When Daud speaks, the words come almost impulsively, a sentiment he can't contain. ]

I have no interest in being marked.

[ Once was enough. Once was more than enough. There's a cold fury - distant but sharp - in his eyes. There's calculation, a moment's pause. ]

You've marked others. [ It's almost a question. ] What marking do you leave.

[ It's one question of many; a place to start. ]

[veryhuman]

I should. It is much more polite.

[ He giggles, shoulders hunching as his hand presses over his mouth to cover up his laughter. Mitsuhide makes a small noise -- thoughtful, amused -- as he pulls his hand away to see that he accidentally smeared his own blood on his face. It only makes him laugh more. ]

Ah, I really forgot how messy that is. I honestly forgot. [ Even though he speaks softer, seemingly talking to himself, his tone is that of a child attempting to convince an adult of a lie. Lilting, obviously deceptive to the point it is laughable. But once more, he is the only one laughing. ]

Ah? Nothing that can be seen. [ He lifts his hand to wave it, brushing away the question. ] The body is already ... [ His head turns slightly like he hears something behind him. His gaze becomes distant as his mouth parts just a little. ]

The marks I leave are upon the soul. Yes, it is beyond the flesh. Far beyond it. You have seen it already, haven't you? [ He returns his gaze back to Daud, lips pressed together like he may start laughing again soon. ] Those skulls. They were once living men. They had to be! You can't just summon a skull from nothing! Did you think I did? You are so silly!

[ His head is thrown back to laugh at the very idea that there are just headless abominations that he can call upon. ] The body comes along later. But I don't do much until the body is dead. It isn't nice to. Not nice at all. So, I just give the spirit reason. After all, every spirit has a little bit of madness in it.

[ He smiles. ] Once their celebration is over, they can join the others. It would be sad, after all, if they were all by themselves. Don't you agree? Very sad, indeed. I am not so cruel as to discard them once their bodies have been hacked to pieces. Right? You agree that would be rude, right?

[ Indeed, it is in his mind just a little curse to drive the soul mad. In its madness, it may end up with the body being torn apart by those that wish to stop bloodshed. Sometimes, the person can break out of it themselves. Sometimes, others are able to shake them out of their madness. But to those whose bodies become ruined and bloody messes, he will happily collect what remains. ]