ᴋᴏʟᴛɪʀᴀ ·sᴜɴsʜɪɴᴇ· ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜᴡᴇᴀᴠᴇʀ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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futurology2016-11-06 08:01 pm
respired) wrote in futurology2016-11-06 08:01 pm
video; un: deathweaver
[ Koltira's sitting on a flat rock, long legs stretched out, a bottle of something dark and high proof in one hand--a souvenir from the remains of the saloon. He's surrounded by cacti and tall, spiky yucca plants; the silhouette of Perdition's Rest is not far behind him, due west. He's close enough to reach by a quick walk, but not so close that he's in the middle of everyone and their campfires and their singing and their camaraderie and so on. A thin dusting of snow coats everything, though close inspection reveals a mirror-like sheet of ice slowly crackling its way into being over the rock, as though animated of its own accord.
A few people have seen him since that terrible week, but not many. He's cleaned up since then. No more chains. Back in his fine, planet-appropriate clothes--long, black coat, stylish hat, boots with sharp spurs. He has new, red tattoos on one hand, and his pale hair is done up in a thick braid that falls over his shoulder.
He leans forward, pulling his right leg up and draping his arm over his knee. He looks miserable. And a little drunk. ]
No one regrets what transpired more than me. I was not in control of myself, though it's no excuse. An apology feels weak and inadequate, but you have it from me, a hundred times, a thousand times.
[ He takes a drink from the bottle. A long drink. ]
I will do what I can to atone, within reason. If you wish me never to look your way again, I will not. If you wish to strike me, you may, though I will defend myself against a lethal blow. If you have something else in mind, tell me.
I will work with Sieglinde, for whatever fruit that bears. It may bear nothing, but I'll endure the attempt.
[ The guilt in his expression, pulling at his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows, hardens. He clenches his jaw. ]
Yet, understand this. I will never be a slave again. Not to any of you, nor to anyone else. I will not beg, and I will not scrape. I will not kneel. And you do not have the right to decide my destiny. None of you do. That's my decision, and mine alone.
[ He sets the bottle down. Shuts his eyes. Last time this happened, he had given a lengthy explanation. He had laid bare the facts of himself: what he was, how he came to be that way. But not this time. He will not open a vein for nothing; he will not suffer dismissal on top of scorn. Not over his past.
Besides, as guilty as he is, as deeply and truly remorseful, he's still angry, too. ]
I have nothing more to say.
A few people have seen him since that terrible week, but not many. He's cleaned up since then. No more chains. Back in his fine, planet-appropriate clothes--long, black coat, stylish hat, boots with sharp spurs. He has new, red tattoos on one hand, and his pale hair is done up in a thick braid that falls over his shoulder.
He leans forward, pulling his right leg up and draping his arm over his knee. He looks miserable. And a little drunk. ]
No one regrets what transpired more than me. I was not in control of myself, though it's no excuse. An apology feels weak and inadequate, but you have it from me, a hundred times, a thousand times.
[ He takes a drink from the bottle. A long drink. ]
I will do what I can to atone, within reason. If you wish me never to look your way again, I will not. If you wish to strike me, you may, though I will defend myself against a lethal blow. If you have something else in mind, tell me.
I will work with Sieglinde, for whatever fruit that bears. It may bear nothing, but I'll endure the attempt.
[ The guilt in his expression, pulling at his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows, hardens. He clenches his jaw. ]
Yet, understand this. I will never be a slave again. Not to any of you, nor to anyone else. I will not beg, and I will not scrape. I will not kneel. And you do not have the right to decide my destiny. None of you do. That's my decision, and mine alone.
[ He sets the bottle down. Shuts his eyes. Last time this happened, he had given a lengthy explanation. He had laid bare the facts of himself: what he was, how he came to be that way. But not this time. He will not open a vein for nothing; he will not suffer dismissal on top of scorn. Not over his past.
Besides, as guilty as he is, as deeply and truly remorseful, he's still angry, too. ]
I have nothing more to say.
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It matters because you almost died! By my hand!
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What?
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[What.]
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Why do you think I saved you?
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[DUHHH.]
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How can you be so jovial about this?
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[ He makes a frustrated noise in his throat. ]
I don't understand how you're simply--fine. I'm--I'm not fine.
[ He feels awful, in fact. ]
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[His smile fades, just a little bit.]
I'm okay now! Maybe not... fine. But okay, right?
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I'm glad. I thank the Light. I--
[ He swallows thickly. Things like this are difficult for him to say, however deeply he feels them. But he remembers Sylvanas's cruel face. Her terrible promise. ]
I care so greatly for you, and to see you as you were, to know it was my own fault--the image is still with me. The sound of your voice.
I know you readily accept any apology. But I don't say enough how much your kindness has meant to me. How much it--still means.
[ It's because of Papyrus, in part, that he was able to even give things with Fate a chance. ]
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But he's doing this for a reason. His body has recovered from the damage- the only things that would remain would be the lines of comminuted fractures along his bones; along his wrists, and his rib cage. Things he keeps covered in clothes and gloves anyway. Externally, he looks about as well as he always would.]
See? I'm alright. So don't think about me before, because this is me, now.
[The scars he had seen on Koltira though. They didn't all seem old. Those would not be so easy to hide.]
I'm really happy... that I'm able to help you be a little happier too! Even if you don't say it so much, I already know. If you don't want to say that, you can also tell me more, about how important I am!!
[Because if there's something he doesn't get tired of, it's being complimented. He remembers as well, his gift to Koltira. Something he had gotten for him, some time ago now...]
Aaaaand... you can thank me, ahead of time!
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He murmurs. ]
You are very important, Papyrus. You are one of the most important people here.
[ But the next statement is a bit confusing. His ears perk slightly. ]
Thank you--for what?
[ Besides Papyrus's existence, which Koltira is presently profusely doing. ]
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because being told how important and great he is is definitely his kink. Sorry for making you a part of that Koltira.]I got you something!! I was going to save it until Christmas, but...
[He turns away from the necklace he has sitting in front of him for a moment to retrieve something from his bag. Out of it, he pulls a lyre, fashioned in a way that indicates it's much like one Koltira would find at
home...World Of Warcraft Land...a place one finds lyres.]no subject
He swallows thickly. ]
How did you --? Where did you get that?
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[He means Lloyd?? Maybe??]
So tell me where you are so I can give this to you!!
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I am on this rock.
[ Ha, ha. ]
It's not far. Go west, starting from behind the general store. I am but ten minutes away.
potentially... to action??