middaeg | Player Plot: The Salvation of Geardagas, Part II

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Player Plot: The Salvation of Geardagas, Part II

Event Log: February, The Salvation of Geardagas: Part II

CW: This plot has a general content warning for kidnapping, torture, experimentation, violence, drug use (incl. aphro), infection/disease and potential death. This is entirely opt-in.

Spirited Away, Part 2

i. Hypothesis

ii. Alternative Theory

Some characters, however, escape this particular cruelty in favour of something else just as dehumanising. If a member of the inner circle has taken a liking to someone, they'll take them out of the pool of tests subjects and move them into their households. Servitude is ensured by a strong enchantment that scrambles memories and replaces them with the false knowledge that they've been working there all along. These brainwashed servants might also be forced to participate in the torture and testing of the others.

Initiation

Eager

i. Cavorting and Cruelty

"Tonight, let us enjoy the fruits of our labour! Witness the progress we've made and share our blessings among yourselves! Fear will only blind you to taking the next step. Indulge, open your minds and take the first step towards your salvation!"

ii. Midnight Show

"There's one more thing. I know all of you are loyal, true believers- but everyone must be tested,"

"and we have to protect ourselves. There are those who don't understand us and seek to undo our work. Therefore, we need to tie up loose ends."

"Rest assured, their deaths with not be in vain: we have learned much and they will make for the perfect offering to the beings who gave us the Cwyld's blessing!"

now

[ ooc: More information about the event can be found on the plotting post along with comments for questions, and an IC vote concerning Alder's fate! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I. P A R T Y x

so Gon had been rejected for participating in Killua's salvation, though he'd at least managed to get some workable details. and despite the fact that Geralt refused to let Gon come along, as always, Gon decides to say "fuck that" to the opinions of his adult peers. he understands why Geralt would underestimate him like that, though it's none-the-less frustrating: he'd come to Geralt pleading for help (saying he couldn't do it alone), he's tiny, and, finally—he is a faun. Gon is still a great fighter, and abnormally strong, easily overpowering jacked men twice his age, size and skill. sure, he's probably a bit weaker with his faun anatomy, but... whatever. he gets it, either way.

Gon didn't want to go to the party alone, because he has to keep his limitations in mind, and he's not sure he'll be able to. but twice, he's sworn in vows to his Bonded and best friend not to be too reckless with his own life and body, especially now that he's twice weakened. but Gon's nervous. his Bond with Killua has gained recent, perilous intimacy, muddying any possible boundary they'd previously had... so Gon's emotions are high. he's been through this before, exploding with rage and grief at the loss of someone he loved, but that someone hadn't been Killua. even without all this bond stuff, way back then, it would have been so much worse if it had been Killua.

he swallows, and exhales. with some trepidation, Gon goes ahead and proceeds with his plan to infiltrate the party. somehow. he knows where it is, kind of. but he knows he can't just barge in. there were implications of heavy magic security, and Gon doesn't really understand magic well enough to get around it. and as expected, the feelings of his Bond are disturbingly muffled; Gon can't sense Killua at all, though he feels him dull and distant enough to know that he's certainly still in the same world. so a safe distance away, in case there's some kind of Magic Radar for intruders not totally unlike En, Gon's been stalking the peripheral, stressing, but trying his best to keep calm. a frantic pulse could give him away as much as a heavy breath.

and after Gon's afraid he's about to lose it, the...um, party does for him. Gon jumps and gasps audibly, visibly startled as he hears screams erupt from the courtyard, and sees people frantically running from the courtyard he's been stalking the peripheral of. and at that point, Gon grits his teeth, charging forward—only once he sees the infuriated, hulking Shade barrel through, mindlessly seeking victims. and anyone reasonable wouldn't run towards a Shade like it's an opportunity, knowing the risk—but Gon can't pass up the chaos, hoping it might lead to dropped barriers. Gon anticipates with his quickness and small stature, there's a chance someone will fall prey to it first.

and, lucky for Gon, he's right.

undeterred, Gon runs past the scene like it isn't happening.

it's not less chaotic, inside—Gon of course wants to stop to survey the scene of things, to help people, but he has to keep his focus. inside, people push past one another, and Gon does notice the horrific state of some of the folks—the kidnapped, Gon assumes, given that they aren't all in elegant attire, looking run down and messed up. and for the next several minutes, Gon searches frantically.

damn it. he needs a tell. just one tell that someone here is a Mirrorbound with the same prerogative. he just needs to figure out where he needs to go to find more of the captives.]

II. R E S C U E x A N D x S T R I F E (closed to killua)

[and whatever happens from there, Gon does eventually find himself in Killua's direction. Gon barrels almost senselessly forward once he gets the information he needs, shedding all logic as he had nervously anticipated at all the start of this he might have, feeling no consequence or concern for any opposers he may cross along his way, ]instintively giving them a good, mightly headbutt and or stomp to clear them from his path.

close, close like this, Gon can finaly feel it—the wakes of his Bond with Killua tickle at the peripheral of his mind, honing him closer, steadfastedly narrowing his instincts as he furiously moves forward, moving as fast as his hooves can carry him while he tears through room for room....

until, finally, the swell of the feeling through his Bond comes to a head, and Gon stands face to face with Killua. and a few others in a similar state—all in a sorry way, perhaps stowed for the time beaning as party favors, less favorable for whatever reason than those brought to the initial fore.

Gon essentially screams with the tension it riles within him as he bursts forward again, and though he is weaker than he was back home, and but a Faun—with his withstadingly still truly abnornal strength, Gon wrends the bars of Killua's cage with his own bare, gnarled fists, teeth clenched, sweat dripping from his brow.

after a bit of struggled yanking, Gon manages to bend the bars enough to slip in, and very carefully, Gon arranges his Bonded around his shoulders—and with powerful bull hoof, he kicks the door down after a few stomps, dashing back out just as whence he came. Killua is disturbingly and uncharacteristically slack within his arms, and Gon can't afford to trouble himself with the heavy, kitten-like lul of Killua's too-heavy head, so unaccustomed to his friend having such presentless, dead weight..

once isolated, tucked into the quiet, narrow parts of some hallway, Gon's brows furrow with worry between his horns, trying to right the slack position of his friend's head atop his neck.

Gon knows. Gon knows that drugs don't affect Killua—but this is a different world. different chemicals. different medicines. and so too, magic. Killua is so beyond lofty and fearsome that it's disturbing to see Killua this way, especially in Gon's weakened state. and worse, Gon can see it—the infection. Killua's perfect skin is marred by it, his veins thick, dark and bloated. Gon's lower lip quivers tightly as his chin dimples, and he holds the side of his face, skin cool at its surface, and with his other hand, Gon gives him a couple slaps, urgently, with tears stinging his eyes, repeating his name.]

Killua...

[Gon can't leave him. Killua is so far beyond merely "important" to Gon, and with recent complicated, intimate developments in their bond, Gon is less adverse to seeing things for what they are—this is the person he loves. and for that reason, Gon grips Killua harshly by his shoulders, blunt, dark nails denting his fair skin as Killua gives him a shake.]

Killuaaa!!

III. A N D x S O . . .

[the trifle all sorted through, Gon's reckless, emotional decisions—a point of fret from the start—not withstanding in their consequence, Gon drags the weak body of his friend out from the scene. he tries to go the least conspicuous route, occasionally giving Killua a nervy, watchful eye—he isn't used to his friend being out of sorts this way. weak doesn't suit him.

once a sorted, suitable distance away, Gon gently arranges Killua against the ground, scooping the rough of his palm across his friend's poreless skin. Gon lets go of a shuddery exhale, trying to right himself; to steel, in case of any further attack. truth told, he wants to run all the way home—to their home—but Gon needs to recollect, for a moment...

and so too, he wants to be sure Killua's had some rest before that. if anyone drifts by these two teenagers, clearly in a rough way, and decides to interact based on that or otherwise—for the moment, Gon has nothing better to do with his sorely depleted energy.]

[ It really is strange that Killua doesn't move. He's limp in Gon's arms, jaw slack, eyes shut-- but he's breathing, a strained, shallow and uneven sound with a distinctly rasping quality.

It's dark in the basement, in the cage. Gon won't see the full extent of the damage until they get upstairs, where the lighting in the hallway gives him a full view of the disturbing state Killua's in when he's leaned back against the wall.

His clothes -- just his undershirt and trousers now, no shoes or jacket -- are torn, blackened with a mix of filth, dried blood and infection. Angry red wounds from claws and teeth crisscross his arms, shoulders, legs and back, healed just enough to stop the bleeding but left mostly unbandaged. The holes in his clothes give a glimpse of the black patches underneath, but it's most obvious in his face and throat, where black veins crawl like spreading roots across his skin, around his eyes, blackening his lips.

The slap doesn't wake him. Not at first.

No, it's the Bond that gets through, eventually; Killua can feel Gon nearby, the warmth of him slowly piercing through the darkness. That, and the fading spells cast by captors who are now thoroughly distracted, fleeing or fighting somewhere in the other room, where the muffled sounds of the chaos still filter in through the walls. It smells like smoke and acrid meat.

Lashes fluttering and lids twitching, Killua slowly opens his eyes.

They're black too. ]

[Gon's heart drops, his gut twisting with dread when it should be fluttering with relief as Killua's eyes slowly open. the black sclera does nothing for Gon's nerves. it was already obvious that Killua was infected, but this looks pretty bad. these people were intentionally poisoning others with the cwyld... the wounds were enough to incite panic in Gon initially, but he at least knows Killua bounces back easily from injury. but the cwyld isn't like that.

Gon remembers Mettaton, and the weariness grows. maybe it doesn't infect the mind as quickly as the body. even if that were to be the case, when is it too far? how is any of that even dealt with? could Killua become a shade?

could Gon actually lose him? maybe he should have just taken him straight to the hospital, but... if Killua's... like that... if there's a chance... Gon doesn't want to bring somebody so powerful among innocent people if there's a chance Killua will be out of control.]

Killua, [Gon says again, this time more softly, leaning forward as he rests his hand on Killua's, trying to get a feel for his state. he tries not to actively freak the fuck out for how messed up Killua looks, how the little black veins show in his skin like veins of ink on porous paper. his lips almost black, Killua looks halfway like a corpse, the subtle warmth of his complexion completely overtaken by the dark pigmentation set by the cwld, casting a bluish illusion to the pallor of his flesh.] Killua, I got you out of there. The, um, cellar. If you're in pain, I can carry you to the hospital...

[ His name. A familiar voice. He hears it.

Killua.

Killua.

So it says, whispering his name from far away in voices he knows and yet doesn't.

Killua.

Shadows in front of his eyes. A figure. He feels the Bond, deep inside his hear, an incessant, anxious beat like faraway drums echoing in the distance. It makes his nerves feel strange, tingling, breath caught like in a spider's web within his lungs.

Killua, says the voice in the back of his mind, like ice shards in his brain.

He doesn't recognize the shape of the voice leaning down in front of him. The pain pulses heavy with each breath, each heartbeat, liquid fire in his veins. His eyes sting.

Suddenly, he lashes out. In his mind's eye, he isn't sure what's real and what's illusion or hallucination, not yet. He lashes out, and shoves with the heels of his palms, striking at the nearest target and shoving it all back to give himself some time to think. ]

[Gon gasps and stumbles, almost toppling backwards, but he catches himself, thereafter backing up willfully, his heart stopping and stuttering. Gon recognizes this expression, on Killua, even if physically he's almost unrecognizable, so different from when Gon had seen him only just recently. his heart thumps heavily, body tense and seized by his uncertainty—manifesting as fear derived more from how this is going to unfold, and what it means for Killua going forward, potentially, than fear for his own life... even recognizing that it may indeed be at risk.]

Killua, [Gon tries again, leaning forward, expression pleading and imploring.] It's me. [as Gon says this, he presses his palm against his chest, fingers splayed.] Don't you recognize me?? Or...can't you feel me?? I can still feel you... through our Bond.

I wanna help you. Please let me.

Edited 2021-02-21 22:23 (UTC)

No!

[ Killua flinches away at the touch, breath picking up.

He can feel something, but it's far away. It's too far, and he's still too caught up in the nightmares lurking in the corners of his eyes. ]

You're not real...

[ He whispers, as if to himself, the same way he's said it for hours on end in that dark cage where his nightmares lurked and watched him with his brother's eyes. Or, worse, where the air had conjured up images from his memories of NGE, of strange creatures, old fights, and Gon's own empty eyes when he'd-- ]

N-no...

[ Killua's voice catches. He blinks fast, hard, shaking his head roughly as if that might help to clear it by force.

His fingers close around the wrist of the hand pressed to his chest, and to his shock, it's warm. He squeezes, painfully hard, and suddenly tries to wrench it away from him, uncaring of his strength. ]

I told you not to touch me!

[ because no matter what it looks like, he knows how this all works now. he knows it's never real. he knows it's just those people with needles or spells ready to make him sicker, or drag him to that other cage to fight.

Well, if it's a fight they want, they shouldn't have been stupid enough to touch him directly like this. They should have learned their lesson the first time he'd made one of them bleed. ]

[seeing Killua this way makes Gon’s heart twist and hurt; such that when Killua suddenly grips, rends and yanks his arm, Gon doesn’t react to the pain too overtly—he moves with it to lessen some of the impact, but feels something shift abnormally, and with awful pain. he winces, teeth grit, stuttering out a little grunt. he’s sure at least one of his forearm bones are broken, and a cold, hollowing dread fills him.

to survive, he’ll have to leave Killua—Killua doesn’t know what’s going on, and doesn’t know who he is. and he’s frightened, and in pain, and honestly, probably pretty pissed off. Gon, even at his best, has never been in any kind of shape to subdue Killua physically.]

Killua, it’s okay.

[but Gon can’t leave him, either. when he told Geralt he didn’t want to go alone, because it would be dangerous for him—he hadn’t anticipated that he might die because of Killua. not being able to reach him is painful. when Gon’s arm is released, he grips at his injury, breath a bit scattered as he tries to figure out what to do. Gon feels that he can’t just be catastrophizing like this already, but...

Gon lifts his head, ears pinned back in tense anxiety, tail limp and heavy.]

I’m not leaving you. I can’t.

[ This close, and with whatever muffling spells were active on the outside of the building no longer in place, their Bond is strong despite the turmoil between them. The magic works like it should; Gon's pain lances through Killua's consciousness like a spark of fire, and he shrinks from the feeling in confusion. It's not that it hurts, exactly. But he can feel it.

Gasping, he presses himself further back against the wall, scrubbing at his face, his eyes, smearing the tears that sting the animal scratches that adorn one side of his face.

No. None of this is real. He won't fall for it again.

But that feeling... that warmth inside him, and the twinge of fear and worry that isn't quite his own...

It seems so familiar.

He clutches his own forearms against his chest, shaking terribly, and restrains himself with effort to keep from lashing out again when he finally looks up. ]

...no.

You should. Y-you should... leave. Go.

Run.

[ It's not really Gon. But even if it is just another unfortunate person like that other one, Geralt's friend--

He doesn't want to hurt anyone else. ]

P-please. I'm going to... kill you. I don't want to kill you. Please go...

Killua, don't be stupid!

[Gon shouts back angrily, but his voice has a watery crack to it, his other hand gripping as his tail lifts a little, his heart pounding.]

They were able to subdue you already... I can't leave you. I don't care if you kill me. [Gon knows he can't help, either—if Killua can't overpower his captors, Gon probably can't help by much. and Killua would feel terrible if he killed Gon, but Gon would feel terrible if he turned his back on his best friend.]

You won't. You can break through it.

[of course, Gon doesn't want to be killed either—for the obvious, but also because if Gon dies, they'll just get Killua again. he's disoriented. and powerful, yeah, but they got him the first time. if Gon can just guide him out of here, maybe they can clear his head at the Coven, lift his enchantments... but they probably wouldn't want him to just be dragged in there, given the state of Killua's infection. Gon isn't sure what to do.

he glances at the chain in his pocket, and debates reaching for it. maybe he could contact Geralt, but he's probably already up to his own stuff... he didn't even want Gon to get up to all this. but he's looking for Killua too.]

[ That voice. That voice, calling his name.

Killua flinches. His eyes stare, wide and blank, not seeing what's in front of him. But Gon's voice, as always, cuts through all the noise of the static and the screams in the back of his head.

Gon's voice. Gon's light.

It feels so far away.

Killua's eyes well with tears, and his fingers tighten on his own arms, nails digging in so hard his fragile, black-veined skin oozes blood. Shoulders hunching low, he bows his head, and shakes it back and forth in silent protest, arguing against a force that Gon can't see.

All his life, others have told him what to do, how to feel, how he will act in any given circumstance. And all this time later, he still hasn't changed. The last few days have been proof enough, haven't they?

He doesn't deserve to be with Gon. He's still a killer. He's still weak. The voices in his head speak with the flat determination of the truth. His father, his brother, even Bisky. They all know him better than Gon does.

You will kill him. You will leave him. You are inherently selfish, and nothing will ever change that about you. You are made to destroy.

You will leave him to die.

You will kill him with your own two hands.

And then, from somewhere else, another voice that pierces through. The words hurt even more.

"I don't care if you kill me."

Killua's breath wheezes in his throat, a pained, thin sob wracking his hunched frame. ]

Gon...

D-don't say that, Gon... please.

Don't let me hurt you.

[ He doesn't know what he'll do next. The chaos in his mind is growing louder by the moment, and Killua can't trust himself. The split second of lucidity is enough to make a decision. A last-ditch, desperate effort.

Clenching his teeth to brace himself and keep from biting his tongue, Killua suddenly throws his head back, and slams it as hard as he can against the stone wall behind him.

Maybe that will make all the assholes in his memories shut up. ]

—Sorry, [Gon says, his tone almost scrambling, and he clutches around his collar, his remiss welling. right, he can't just speak so casually on his own life like that. he knows how it hurts Killua, by now. but...somehow, it's still hard to keep in check.

but if he were to lose Killua to this—would Gon have anything to feel but responsible? how would he be able to cope?

he tries to adjust his meaning—to reconsider it. by saying he doesn't care if Killua kills him—he's better off dead than to survive him in this context. there isn't a better way to put it, so Gon bites his tongue, but he does try to think of another way to convey this. he knows Killua isn't fully lucid—he knows that he may lose him the second he has him, with Killua's clarity at this moment. every move, every word, is a risk—and so too is abandoning Killua, as Killua insists.

and it comes down to this more and more, doesn't it?

Gon refuses to accept that—to accept that the right thing to do, in any of their various contexts, is to abandon the other. even if it results in mutual death, there's no way that's right.]

I won't. You won't, [Gon reassures, and he steps forward hesitantly. he tries not to focus on the way Killua peels at his own flesh like that, nor the abnormal quality of the blood that comes from it. his heart pounds. escalation is all Gon's ever known, so outside of his element here, it's hard to feel confident in his footing. but Gon's never been risk adverse. if this is the risk, so be it.] Listen to me, Killua. Focus on my voice. Focus on our Bond. That feeling.

You're strong. You're so strong—you've endured way worse than this, haven't you? By yourself, even. But I'm here. I'm here for you.

[Gon tries to summon his most recent, happiest feelings with Killua—tries to evoke that echo of that warmth, to keep him grounded through their bond, even if it just twists his heart and makes his eyes mist.]

I'm going to touch your hand.

[Killua may still attack him—Gon accepts that. but maybe if he tells him first, he can actually do it.]

Focus on that feeling, [Gon repeats.] Okay?

[and, gently, Gon does as he warns—he reaches out to brush the rough texture of his palm and the underside of his fingers against Killua's, grip hooking softly around his fingers.

and with his other hand, since Killua's so distracted—Gon takes out his watch, carefully awakening it. his last conversation was with Geralt; understanding the risks of his mission here (the one Geralt specifically forbade him from), Gon's kept it at the ready for access.

to Geralt, he clumsily, with one thumb, as a person without much experience in technology, texts: found kilua, in hll nr main rm.

pls help]

I'm here because I love you.

[ He has endured. So much more than this, and alone--

But it was easier alone. It was easier when he didn't care. It was easy when all he needed to do was listen to what he was told, carry out his job, be the perfect little prodigy his family wanted him to be so that he could continue waking up every day with nothing in his heart but the desire to kill.

His instincts may be as sharp as ever, his training just as ingrained, muscle-memory drilled in to know exactly how to strike so fast few had even the chance to see it coming, but none of that is the same as desire. He doesn't want to kill. Especially not Gon. ]

G-go... you have to get... out of here.

[ Killua growls between heavy breaths and the dull thud of his head crashing against the wall again, and then again, until the red blossoms like petals on the stone. He feels dizzy, spots dancing black and white across his vision. Good. If he can just knock himself out until-- ]

Khh!

[ Killua's teeth snap together, the taste of metal on the back of his tongue. His eyes water.

But it's not the pain.

The warmth burns in his chest, almost painful. The echoes of the emotions Gon is trying to project catch in his throat. The touch of his hand feels fever-hot, lancing like lightning up his half-numb arm. ]

Gon... Gon, dammit... [ Killua hisses past his clenched teeth, fingers suddenly gripping Gon's hand, hard.

He has to go. Or, at the very least, Killua has to convince Gon he's got to knock him out. It terrifies him, feeling this out of control, even more than the voices clamoring at the edges of his consciousness. After all, logically, Killua knows it's not real, that he's just very sick or cursed or whatever the hell they've done to him. But logic has very little bearing on his actions when he slips.

He opens his mouth again, about to insist, but Gon doesn't let him get a word in. In his own, characteristic way, Gon barrels ahead just as he's always done. Says the first goddamn thing that pops into his stupid head.

Killua's fingers tightening around his hand are going to make Gon's joints creak. ]

Y-you... what?

Edited 2021-02-24 09:10 (UTC)

Killua!

[Gon's cry is brittle and watery, clearly exasperated and distraught. he knows what Killua's trying to do, and he has to restrain himself from jumping forward to yank him forcibly from the wall—but that'll trigger an attack for sure. Gon's shoulders lurch before he stops himself, and he grits his teeth. he's not strong enough to knock Killua out, either—or rather he is, but there's no way Killua wouldn't get him first.

he holds his ground, and Killua finally stops.

Gon had anticipated that Killua may break his hand or worse, which is why Gon has conveniently decided to use the same injured arm to touch Killua. true, even lifting it is pretty painful, but like Killua, Gon's been through so much worse. it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, of course. in fact, Gon winces with a little hiccupped gasp when Killua grips like that, wincing a little, teeth clenching. the fact that his radius is broken is certainly the worst of it.

he takes a couple heavy, scattered breaths, forcibly evening his expression to maintain eye contact with Killua's distorted form. Gon wonders if he should feel a little bad—saying something like that to distract Killua. it's manipulative. but it's not untrue, either. it's sat with Gon for years, further to the tip of his tongue the closer they've been getting—but it still had felt sort of strangely forbidden to be direct about.

now, though, Gon knew it might keep Killua distracted. no matter who the person, that kind of thing can be a little shocking, maybe grounding. also, Gon figures, if he fails, and Killua murders him, Killua probably won't survive long after that.

so now's as good a time as any, he guesses.]

I love you. So there's no way I can just leave. I'm sorry.

[ It works. If Gon is trying to distract him, keep Killua focused on himself and in the moment, he's succeeding. At least for now.

Killua grips his hand like it's his life raft to reality, clinging to the tenuous connection that keeps the nightmares and the darkness at bay. He stops trying to slam his head into the wall.

He just stares at Gon's face for a long time, breathing fast and loud in the silence between them after Gon repeats those words. Killua clings to them like he clings to Gon's fingers, painful and shaky, hard enough to hurt them both. Tears well in his blackened eyes, making tracks in the dirt and blood smeared across his cheeks. ]

You really are... a selfish idiot...

[ Killua sniffs, then coughs, wracking and wet and making his whole body and Gon's injured arm shake. The echo of the pain glances off his own, a dulled reverb between them. But they're both used to pain. The coughing turns to gasping, which turns then into laughter, thin and weak and disbelieving. It hurts too. His vision swims. ]

You picked a helluva time to blurt something like that.

[ With a yank of Gon's injured arm, Killua suddenly drags him forward, embracing him tightly and burying his filthy face into Gon's hair and fuzzy ear.

He should have known better. He should have stopped himself. But he can't. Not anymore.

Not after Gon said something like that.

And if the blackened beast inside him purrs in satisfaction as he gets the chance to smear his tainted blood onto Gon in return, then so be it. Gon wanted to distract him. He's distracted, very well. ]

[ Texting him is a solid idea in theory. The unfortunate reality is that Geralt only remembers that his watch exists half the time. In the middle of a fight, it's entirely escaped his mind. What leads him to the two boys instead is scent: under the sickly sweet rot of the Cwyld, enough lingers that he can pick out a trail that belongs to Killua. He hopes, in any case.

It leads him in a roundabout path. Most of the cages are empty when he gets there. He can't find the kid in it, which is either a very good sign or a really fucking bad one—but the trail keeps going. He follows it down a smoky hall, littered with blood and bodies and pitch dark stains in the wood. Murmured voices behind the door tell him exactly who's in there: if he hears snippets of the conversation, he's not bothering processing it right now. There are more important things.

Geralt throws open the door. His relief at seeing the two of them is short-lived. They both look like shit. Killua, especially. They've fought together enough that he knows it's not easy to get him in that bad shape, and the sight pierces ice into his blood. It's familiar in too many different ways. ]

Hey. [ He says nothing about Gon being here when he'd told the kid to stay home—it's too late for a lecture at this point—but his expression suggests he's not thrilled. He crouches down next Killua. Look, he's certain Gon doesn't want to let go of his friend, but they can hug outside. ] Let's get you up.

[Gon realizes the danger, somewhat—he knows how contagious the Cwyld can be. the breaking of his arm and the crushing of his hand was probably already a bit of a risk, but even Gon realizes the risk of this embrace.

he can't fight Killua off. he's not quick or strong enough to knock him out. Gon either dies violently by Killua's hand, an event that, were Killua saved after the fact, Killua wouldn't have a high chance of surviving. and even then, it's too easy to imagine, even sluggish and addled as Killua is—he'd tear down many more people before he was safely restrained and rescued. or, he'd be taken by the cult again.

but this is the same, isn't it? the Cwyld is a slow death, Gon thinks, and in that duration, Gon may defect similarly. either way, Killua still runs risk of being reabsorbed by his captors. but it's not as though Gon will die instantaneously, he reasons—maybe he can take the brunt of the risk of transmission to mollify Killua. the chances are as slim as they are dark. or maybe the infection doesn't spread so easily... maybe there's still a chance he can keep Killua lucid, take him away from the other people at risk of his current state, manipulated into violence. again.

Gon's always wanted to protect Killua from that. from being utilized this way. being weaponized. but he just isn't strong enough, anymore. and barely was he ever.

Gon, even with his mangled arm, returns Killua's embrace, tucking his face against the dirty crop of Killua's hair, holding him around his shoulders. in the end, it's true: he's really only just selfish. Gon's eyes sting and wet with tears, murmuring an apology against Killua's head.

—then Gon jumps with Geralt's intrusion, and he blinks his wide, disbelieving eyes. he knew there was a chance they might run into each other, having the same objective, but the timing is startling. he hopes it doesn't agitate Killua into a flipped switch. he's tempted to tighten his embrace to contain him, but thinks the result might be similar.

as Geralt crouches down, Gon's heart hammers in nervous terror.]

Careful, [Gon cautions him quietly, then looks back at Killua. carefully, as Gon leans back, he cups the side of Killua's cheek in a gentle palm.]

Hey, hey, Killua... let's go home, okay? Somewhere a little quieter for your head.

[ Killua senses another presence even before Geralt speaks, but he's so addled and distracted, he doesn't recognize who it is immediately. His first instinct, suddenly, is to tighten his arms around Gon, harsh and possessive though it's probably meant to be protective, even if everything's all twisted right now.

His head snaps up, so Geralt will get a full view of his blackened eyes, the dark tendrils shadowing his face. His upper lip peels back in a snarl -- uncharacteristic and strange, considering Geralt has seen him fight a handful of times now with the cold precision of a professional, even when he'd been upset over Gon's absence.

Gon will have to be forceful in order to lean back, and Killua refuses to let go of him entirely, but after a moment he loosens his grip just enough to allow Gon to move. It's that movement that restrains Killua and keeps him tenuously grounded, as his focus shifts to the feeling of Gon's warm palm on his cheek.

It's difficult to tell when the whites of his eyes are so darkened, but his vision flicks between them for a few moments. His mouth works, opening and closing several times, as suddenly his throat goes dry. ]

Geralt.

[ It's a good sign. Killua recognizes him.

The bad news is that he also suddenly remembers what he did. ]

[ Geralt backs off, letting Gon take the lead—though his gaze keeps drifting to the doorway, pointed ears swiveling with every breath and step that passes by. The acrid smell of smoke lingers in the air.

When he looks back, Killua is staring at him. His shoulders are tense. He's known the boy enough to understand he's unpredictable at times—a state he's not willing to fuck with when everything else out there wants to kill them, too. Only when Killua says his name does he relax a hint.

Still lucid, then. ] It's me.

[ He tips his head, glancing back at Gon: a clear indication that they need to go now. If either of them have more to say, they can save it for later. ]

[Gon isn't wholly surprised by Killua's possessive pull on principle, but is taken off guard by it, and he feels himself initially grow a bit worried. but when Killua relents, Gon's shoulders drop.]

Yeah.

Geralt was worried too.

[Gon gently moves his hand from Killua's face to his wrist, then as soft as possible to make his intentions known—that it's a nice and affectionate touch, not a coercive, commandeering pull—Gon holds Killua's hand. he gives a little rub across the tense cords of his hand using his thumb. Gon tilts his head, moving his body a bit to suggest they move forward.]

Killua, let's go home?

I can draw you a bath—we still have lots of the lavender salts. It'll help with the pain. Then you can rest. We can share a bed, and I won't nag you about sleeping in. Okay?

[Gon, of course, knows that they aren't going home at all. he hopes Geralt realizes that too, though Gon sounds wholeheartedly sincere. he knows that if he hesitates or doubts even slightly, Killua, even in this state, might pick up on it. but there's nothing that can be done about it—Killua needs professional attention.

and first, out of here.]

Let's get out of this awful place.

[ Gon's heart is in the right place and his efforts are well-meaning, but Killua's doing his best to cling to lucidity right now-- for however long that lasts. The good and also bad news in that respect is that he's taking stock of the situation and the gravity of it. How infected he is.

He swallows roughly, trying to calm his stuttering breathing. He knows Gon is lying. But it's... sweet. The sentimental, stupid idiot. Killua shakes his head, looking down to hide the tears he's trying to blink away. ]

Let's... [ he agrees for now, voice rough and scratchy. He lets Gon pull him to his feet, jaw tightening at the effort it takes; he gives no other sign of how much it actually hurts, though he never does. ]

But...

[ Glancing up at Geralt again, Killua is hit once more by the image of Jaskier, shouting and shoving and bleeding beneath his claws. His nostrils flare, pulse spiking, and he has to struggle again to keep his breathing in check. He can't afford to get lost in the guilt and the memory of it right now, not when he knows the darkness is lurking, waiting to drag him back into that mindless place. With Gon's hand squeezing his, he feels only barely grounded, and clings to it desperately. ]

G-Geralt... Your friend. The annoying one. You found him? He's... is he okay?

[ Once they're on their feet, Geralt takes point. Gon seems to be the one thing keeping Killua together. He's not going to interrupt that.

It's only a little less chaotic out here: more fire, fewer corpses, even fewer of the living. He dislodges a door hanging by its hinges, stepping aside so Gon can help Killua through.

Only when he hears Jaskier's name does he look back. Right. Jaskier had implied as much—that they'd been held together. The way Killua's heart stutters, though, Geralt can't help sensing there's more to it. His gaze is scrutinizing.

In the end, he doesn't ask. But the reply he gives is meant to gauge an answer. ]

He asked me to come back for you.

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Player Plot: The Salvation of Geardagas, Part II

gon freecss | hunter x hunter | monster (faun)

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