video | un: deathweaver

[respired]

[ Koltira's in the sunny courtyard, standing beneath one of the trees. Shadows and light play across his face, throwing the cold, icy glow of his eyes into stark relief. He's wearing greaves and boots, but only a plain, black tunic otherwise (and the skull-shaped ring that serves as his communicator). Byfrost, as ever, simmers darkly on his back.

He doesn't speak right away, as though he's suddenly lost his nerve. Truth be told, he's not sure how to begin this. The middle part is clear, and the end bit, too, but ... he exhales. ]

My name is Koltira Deathweaver, if you did not know it before. I have hurt a number of you directly, and in so doing, hurt others indirectly. Some of us have spoken, though not all. I will try now to explain myself.



[ He leans back against the tree, uncomfortable. ]

My second name is not a family name. It is an epithet, forced upon me as undeath itself was forced upon me.

[ He gestures to his eyes; his sallow, bluish, cracked skin. ]

I earned [ this word he spits, disgusted by it ] the epithet during long years of enslavement to a will that subsumed my own. The Lich King ordered my death; he remade me into one of his knights. And though I broke free, and though my brothers and sisters rose up against our former master, his mark on us remains.

[ He taps his foot on the grass. ]

We call it the endless hunger. It is a curse--of blood, of flesh, of whatever unholy foundation holds our wretched bodies together. Hunger is perhaps the best way for you to understand it, though it is not for any typical food. We were made to be machines for war. We were made to cause suffering. If we fail in this, we suffer ourselves.

The pain is ever present, albeit manageable. For a time. But if we--if I--do not give in to the hunger's demands, the pain grows. Worsens. It becomes wracking, all-encompassing.

[ He holds up his hand, curling his fingers slowly into a fist. ]

Imagine starving to death, and yet being unable to die. Your body is past its breaking point, but it does not break, because it cannot.

[ His nails dig into the palm of his hand. Black blood trickles down his wrist. ]

Instead, you break. As we do. If I ignore the hunger for too long, I descend into madness. A blood-seeking hysteria. Such was the state in which some of you found me.

I do not tell you this as an excuse. Only as an explanation. I deeply regret what I have done, and I am sorry. You need not forgive me. I do not expect such. If you would rather I keep my distance, I will honor this wish.

[ He pauses. ]

I wish I could end this by telling you that it will never happen again. But that would be a lie. It will. I cannot cure this curse. I can promise only this: when I feel the madness taking hold, I will give due warning. You will be able to spare yourselves, and you will know that if you see me--you must run.

Comments

[hellshaped]

[Well... there's no use trying to guilt him over it. Dude seems like he feels bad enough.]

I get it. [Booze, murderous rage... they're all the same, right?] But you usually... have this sort of thing under control?

[respired]

[ Koltira's surprised by the level of chill on display. He expected more anger from HB than anyone, excepting possibly Rin and company. ]

It was never a problem in Azeroth. I was at war.

[hellshaped]

[Hellboy tends not to hold grudges. He's made friends with people who tried to kill him before, anyway.]

So you had plenty opportunity to... well. [Let's not go into details.] I don't have a lot of experience with, er... undeath as a curse, but there are plenty of charms and things out there that can subdue magical urges. I'll keep an eye out for something like that for you.

[respired]

You should not waste your time.

[ He shakes his head. ]

It is not a 'magical urge'. It's something in my ... basic structure. The foundation. Beyond blood or flesh.

[hellshaped]

Oh. So less curse in the literal sense, and more... [More like this is just what you are now. The more Hellboy thinks about it, the less sure he is that he'd be able to deal with this if it were himself.]

...are you okay?

[respired]

[ Through all this, no one's asked him that, and he isn't sure how to respond. It takes him a while. At least five minutes. ]

Hmnh.

No.

But there's no help for it.

[hellshaped]

[It's so long that Hellboy assumes he'd said something offensive and figures that's the end of it. So he's surprised when the thing on his wrist tells him there's an answer.]

I can't say I know exactly what this feels like, but I don't blame you. Really.

[respired]

[ --well, that's a surprise of an answer. Koltira certainly blames himself. ]

You don't?

[hellshaped]

No. [Hellboy would blame himself if he were in Koltira's shoes. So he figures he could do with knowing that at least somebody out there is on his side.

He can't promise he won't be a little wary around the elf from now on, though.]

Sometimes people have something inside them they can't help, even if they don't want it. I don't blame anyone for that.

[respired]

[ Kinda sounds like HB speaks from experience. ]

Have you met many such people?

[hellshaped]

[Discounting himself --]

Sure. My best friend has something like that. It's something inside her she can't control, but it doesn't mean she's a bad person.

[respired]

And this--uncontrollable something. Has she hurt people?

[hellshaped]

[He doesn't exactly want to give away all of Liz's secrets. Even if she isn't a part of ALASTAIR, they're not his secrets to give... even if Liz herself was never that shy about announcing all the terrible things she's done.

Hellboy pauses before answering all the same.]

Yeah.