Yeah. He actually belonged to the guy I was...looking to get revenge on. He left him behind when he went insane for a little bit...running naked around the countryside...
[He tilts his head and gives him-- A sort of fond look because it's actually cute that Mandi just accepts all the bullshit Molly says sometimes.
But it fades slightly as the memory hits.
It’s chaos.
This bloody dirt road, the middle of fucking nowhere. Ice still shimmers off one of the carts - why hadn’t she fucking warned you that Lorenzo was a spell caster? - there’s shouts and screams and orders being barked through the air. You can’t see Nott. You can’t see Caleb, but you can hear someone yelling off, not too far away. What was her name? Keg? Is practically cowering, paralyzed with fear somewhere across the way.
You can see Beau, scrambling to? From? Somewhere. She’s going somewhere, but it isn’t-
Between you. a man. Lorenzo. You know his name. That he has your friends captured, somewhere. Somehow. You have to stop him, and,
It’s too fucking close is what it is. She’s bleeding too. You’re bleeding, the eye on your hand is dripping, making holding your sword a little difficult and you think
Fuck
There’s the brief flash of bright pain you always feel when you use the Maledict, that’s familiar, but this time it digs a little too deep, it cuts too far and you’re on your ass before you can tell what’s happening.
Lorenzo turns to you, readying that nasty looking glaive
You can feel -
Blood splatters out of your mouth with the impact.
You grip at the blade at the end of the weapon - the part that’s not stuck eight inches deep in your chest - uselessly. the blood on your hands making it slick, the eye bleeding, and bleeding and bleeding—
It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt, is the thing you think to yourself, blade in your chest, back on the ground, looking up at this man - his boot on your stomach now, except of course. It hurts. You gasp for air, but there’s only more blood.
“An example it is.”
He looks down at you, leaning in close - as his hand tightens on the grip of his weapon it begins to twist. Excruciating pain. You’re dead. You’re dead and your brain, your heart, your betrayer of a body hasn’t quite caught the message yet.
Your mouth fills with blood again and you spit in his face. It hits with a splatter and he turns, only briefly, reaching up to touch it.
It’s cold today. It’s still morning, and it’s cold. snow is starting to fall. The man - Lorenzo - smirks down at you, wipes the blood from his face
“Respect.”
Then he twists the blade hard and you not so much hear as feel a crack.
[His breath quickens in his chest as his hand moves to splay on his chest. The pain, the feeling of helplessness, its cold from the air, cold from death...]
[Mandricardo closes his eyes for a moment, grimacing.]
Mollymauk... [And he turns to him, opening his eyes, concerned.] What...what was that?
[Well, Mandricardo has probably scoped Molly's chest enough to notice the wound on his chest that, at a glance, would most definitely match what happened in that little horror show.
Molly's doing a similar gesture, before going to pull his coat tighter over his chest.]
[Begins Mandricardo - his first instinct is to reassure, to try to pull them both out of this emotional strife they just went through - but as it happens, that memory triggers another memory, and Mandricardo winces harshly.]
[Sometimes a vicious death reminds you of your own vicious death.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Your ... horse? Is it normally with you all the time?
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Well...sort of? I mean...I can summon him. Sometimes. He doesn't always listen to me.
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Ah, so like Frumpkin, then. But a horse. Actually seems pretty useful. Never have to find where you left it last! Lost a lot of horses that way.
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[Um. Sure. Also nice shoulder pat, he appreciates it.]
Yeah, well, the horse was stolen in the first place, so...it makes sense why he doesn't listen...
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[He just keeps patting for an awkwardly long time before removing his hand.]
Ah-- Stolen? You did mention having some ... wild oats at some point.
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[understatement of the century]
Yeah. He actually belonged to the guy I was...looking to get revenge on. He left him behind when he went insane for a little bit...running naked around the countryside...
[....yep that is a thing he just said]
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[It is a normal thing to go insane and run naked around the countryside sometimes.]
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[wow]
You lead such an exciting life, Mollymauk.
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But it fades slightly as the memory hits.
It’s chaos.
This bloody dirt road, the middle of fucking nowhere. Ice still shimmers off one of the carts - why hadn’t she fucking warned you that Lorenzo was a spell caster? - there’s shouts and screams and orders being barked through the air. You can’t see Nott. You can’t see Caleb, but you can hear someone yelling off, not too far away. What was her name? Keg? Is practically cowering, paralyzed with fear somewhere across the way.
You can see Beau, scrambling to? From? Somewhere. She’s going somewhere, but it isn’t-
Between you. a man. Lorenzo. You know his name. That he has your friends captured, somewhere. Somehow. You have to stop him, and,
It’s too fucking close is what it is. She’s bleeding too. You’re bleeding, the eye on your hand is dripping, making holding your sword a little difficult and you think
Fuck
There’s the brief flash of bright pain you always feel when you use the Maledict, that’s familiar, but this time it digs a little too deep, it cuts too far and you’re on your ass before you can tell what’s happening.
Lorenzo turns to you, readying that nasty looking glaive
You can feel -
Blood splatters out of your mouth with the impact.
You grip at the blade at the end of the weapon - the part that’s not stuck eight inches deep in your chest - uselessly. the blood on your hands making it slick, the eye bleeding, and bleeding and bleeding—
It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt, is the thing you think to yourself, blade in your chest, back on the ground, looking up at this man - his boot on your stomach now, except of course. It hurts. You gasp for air, but there’s only more blood.
“An example it is.”
He looks down at you, leaning in close - as his hand tightens on the grip of his weapon it begins to twist. Excruciating pain. You’re dead. You’re dead and your brain, your heart, your betrayer of a body hasn’t quite caught the message yet.
Your mouth fills with blood again and you spit in his face. It hits with a splatter and he turns, only briefly, reaching up to touch it.
It’s cold today. It’s still morning, and it’s cold. snow is starting to fall. The man - Lorenzo - smirks down at you, wipes the blood from his face
“Respect.”
Then he twists the blade hard and you not so much hear as feel a crack.
Your eyes never shut.
And then it’s over. ]
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[His breath quickens in his chest as his hand moves to splay on his chest. The pain, the feeling of helplessness, its cold from the air, cold from death...]
[Mandricardo closes his eyes for a moment, grimacing.]
Mollymauk... [And he turns to him, opening his eyes, concerned.] What...what was that?
[...]
Did you...die?
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Molly's doing a similar gesture, before going to pull his coat tighter over his chest.]
Ah. Fuck.
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[Begins Mandricardo - his first instinct is to reassure, to try to pull them both out of this emotional strife they just went through - but as it happens, that memory triggers another memory, and Mandricardo winces harshly.]
[Sometimes a vicious death reminds you of your own vicious death.]
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He seems kind of shaken by just ... two violent deaths in a row, taking a second to try and collect himself.]
Fuck.
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[After all of that...Mandricardo just wants to shrivel up in a hole somewhere. That's...a lot of pain. One right after the other.]
[He mutters:]
Yeah. Fuck is right.