[Feb Catchall][OTA]

[judgementor]

Who: Red Wine
When: Jan/Feb
Where: All around
What: Feb catchall, maybe with a bit of backdated stuff for Jan
Warnings: None yet.
Note: TLs in post. Feel free to thrown down your own for me!

Comments

[judgementor]

I don't have many other options, Bailey!

[Look, this is a difficult situation for him as well. The only thing he can count on is his ability to use a sword and use it well, and the fact that a robot requires the stability of its moving parts to function. Who knew what the transformations of this place might have done to Mettaton?

He can't vanish into mist, because he can't let go of his sword and he can't let the puca regain any kind of footing. As long as they're locked together like this, it's a stalemate until one of them gives ground.

But then Bailey shouts out again, and Red Wine knows what they're referring to. With a low grunt he jerks his wrists, twisting the blade of the sword around in the metal body and moving it just enough to shove the point of the blade up into the flashing core.

Please, by the God of Beginnings, let it work.]

cw death, description of dead body (i tried to keep it vague...)

[glitzandglamour]

[Glowing, dead gaze firmly on Red Wine, there's no joy Mettaton's getting out of this dynamic. His manner is wild and fearful, that of the husk of an animal as he trembles to overpower Red Wine. He starves for sustenance he's never needed, and the blood all over his face is proof that he's already landed at least one kill. He could take the whole city and it'd never be enough.

But then a ring of crystal pierces the air in a glassy collision of stone and metal. The feral Puca's eye goes wide in fierce terror and the haunts of excruciating pain (which feel like so much, sensation having left him hours ago). Along with it, the light goes out of his eye so uncomfortably fast that it would be impossible to mistaken this for anything else: that was the kill shot, and the one that properly ends Mettaton's life.

All of the Puca's weight slumps forward on Red Wine's blade without a single utterance from his mouth, without protest of body. It's an unceremonious death, one Mettaton would turn up his nose at for its lack of grace or drama. It felt so sudden and so grisly, as clear, ozone-smelling liquid drips down Red Wine's blade, tinged with the scent of the Cwyld. All of this is unpleasant.

But Mettaton's dead, and that's what counts.

...Should the two inspect the burrow Mettaton guarded so fiercely as though protecting a home, they'll find in the shallow, fur-lined hole the mangled corpse of another Mirrorbound: Emet-Selch, a Witch. It's hard to tell what's happened to him past the glossy, thick black blood, but it's clear he, too, was infected by Cwyld. His clothes on his torso and chest have been torn away at, deep gouges left in his chest, arms, and shoulders: the unfortunate prey of a hungry animal. Though his blood remains only just drying, it's indicative that it's a recent death: an hour or two at best.]