driftfleet | Video

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Video

Who: Cole
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Pathstone unless asked to go somewhere
When: Now-ish?

[The broadcast is very unusual, coming from Cole. He replies, sometimes, but he very rarely initiates communication through the network.

The camera points at the ceiling, catching just the edge of Cole's hat. He has it in his lap but doesn't try to look into it.]

I need someone who is able to kill me if I turn into a demon. Cassandra promised to, but she's gone and Jove and Solas said they would, but with them gone, I need someone to make sure I'm not a danger to people.

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can you come to the red fish

probably unless it has security like the blue fish does i cant get int here anymore

you can enter if youre not undead ill let you in when you get here

oh did you mean i should come over now all right i can do that

yes please if you can ill be here

[Cole doesn't bother replying, he just turns up at the Red Fish and then actually has to knock, because while he can probably let himself in, he doesn't know who to look for.]

[and Coil has really no idea what to expect from this mysterious being that is supposedly going to show up at his door, so he's watching as soon as the conversation trails off. a little bit on the edge of his seat about the whole thing, he moves down to the bay and waits there, until he finally hears someone knocking.

Cole won't have to wait for more than a matter of seconds before the bay door opens, and he's faced with the younger of the Red Fish's pair of captains. there isn't much in the way of expression on the silent teenager's face, but his eye is at least brimming with morbid curiosity.]

[Cole is a very distinctive and yet not outstanding looking young man. He's emaciated as though starved, scarecrow like with his ill fitting clothing and lanky limbs and pale, pale hair peeking from under his oversized hat.

He's washed out of colour, but his eyes brighten as he comes near Coil. Not with emotion. They literally glow slightly, taking on a pale blue gleam.

Then he drops to his knees, clutching his middle and gasping, like he's choking on his own tongue.]

[it's those subtle things about the man before him that he immediately starts sinking his attention into--snatching up the interesting details in sharp mental claws. it's habit, really. the palor, the starved angles in his face and body, the gleam of his eyes. if Coil had been back home, this man would have been marked as a potential monster right off the bat. what he's seeing just seems to fit.

his keen hunter's interest breaks apart rather quickly, however, as the man suddenly crumples where he's standing.

eye widening with surprise and caution momentarily forgotten, Coil steps forward with an uncertain hand reaching out. if he'd been able to speak, he might have even asked if he was all right.]

[Cole looks up at Coil and there's cold tears slipping down his face. His face is an open book of suffering, there's so much pain in Coil and cole can see it all, remember it all, the bite of the knife in his mouth, the knowledge that the only good thing to ever come from his life will be his death, because that was Cole, before he was this Cole.

He reaches out to Coil with one hand and another set of tears well and spill down his cheeks.]

You hurt so much. It never stops. You can't spill enough of your blood to make it stop.

[that look.

he hadn't been expecting anything. maybe spending so much time around other humans--nothing special, nothing dangerous--had softened his guard that much. weak, oblivious, normal. they fall ill, or get hurt, and maybe that's all he's expecting to find when he reaches to help the man up.

but then he's suddenly staring down into something so familiar that it sucks the breath right out of his lungs. his hand whips his hand back to himself before he can fight the instinct to get away, clutching it to his chest as he straightens up again.

everything in the man's face is familiar. it's a nightmare.

he can't be seeing what he thinks he's seeing. he must be reading too much into those words. there's no way that this creature can know.]

[Compassion only want to help. Desperately, with its whole being, it wants to help and ease the pain by whatever mean are necessary.

Most people only need small things. Food. Warmth. A comforting song in the ear as they die. Soft words of forgiveness.

In a rare few, the only hope of ending the pain is a sharp knife. And it has been several years since he was in that place, where he took a knife and took a life and they whispered thanks as their pain and lives bled over the floor.

There's a knife in his hand. He doesn't draw it from anywhere. It's just there, as he looks up at Coil and he knows there is Mercy. Mercy to end it, where Compassion is helpless, Mercy can give relief.]

I know. It's okay. I don't judge, I never judge, I only help. I can help you. I can make the hurt end. You just need to...

[He beckons ever so slightly with his fingertips.]

Look into my eyes.

[His gaze promises quick, sweet death. He's whispered those words time and time again as he sweetly cuts the life from the body, the pain from the soul.]

[there should have been more confusion. he should have wondered what Cole was talking about; it should have at least crossed his mind that this could be just some witless rant. but he has met creatures that know things that they shouldn't, (She would read every thought of his as though he was shouting them in her ear, after all,) and he can feel the truth of it right in his core.

when he realizes what the specter is implying, it feels like the knife is already set dead in the center of him. he actually makes a sound--small and pained--as another breath squeezes flat out of his chest, and he recoils a step backward.

somehow, this creature knows that he has been desperately searching for enough hurt to make everything right again, and that it has never been enough. he has begged it out of others, and he can feel the marks and aches hiding under his clothes, the bruises on his bones, but none of them have pushed him hard enough. he still stands up and walks away from every fight, he still lies awake at night with enough energy left over to think, and he can't stand it. none of them have punished him enough to make it all stop... and yet, here the offer is now.

it's right there.

he can't breathe, he can't move, but he doesn't meet the creature's eyes as instructed. he can do nothing but stare at that knife.]

[Cole is crying still, his face is wet with tears and they're running down his throat, vanishing under his shirt and he stays there, so still and quiet, unnaturally still, and it's cold in here, he notices the cold but it doesn't pass his mind that he is the cold.

His hand is still extended to Coil, watching him, offering him not absolution, but peace. A merciful end to the screaming hatred that boils up from him like bile and blood.

The knife is simple and dark, but there's a razor sharp edge that whispers that it will be clean, will be quick and merciful and it will all be over.

Without thinking, Mercy moves, vanishes in thick, black smoke, only to reappear in the same heartbeat, against Coil's back.]

I can end it for you. I can make the hurt go away. Just tip your head back and look into my eyes.

[His hand touches Coil's arm. His touch is cold and leaves the faintest amount of frost.]

[it would be easy.

too easy.

it would be little more than a lick of pain, up until the dull, wracking agony that comes at the very end. he still remembers the feel of it--the awful sensation sometimes sneaking up on him when he lets his mind wander. here, he could just spill, and his focus would fade until he's too far gone to be repaired. it would still be like drowning, at the end, but that would just be history catching up to finish what it had started years ago. it would be like nothing between that day sinking in the river, and this moment, had ever happened.

all of his sins would disappear, all of his failures could blink out without him having to pay a thing but his own life. he could slip away without effort and it wouldn't be fair. it would be cheating.

and that, more than anything, keeps him hesitating. he's disgusted with himself that he would be caught considering something so free. it's a temptation for something that he doesn't deserve.

the last thing he deserves is Mercy.

and so, he doesn't pull away, but he does clench his eye shut, clench his jaw against the sob welling in the imaginary hole in his chest, and lower his head instead of tilting it back. it's resignation, but maybe not the sort that Cole is asking for.]

[Cole stays there, nestled like a lover against Coil's back, close and intimate and so incredibly gentle and non-threatening despite the knife in his hand and the intent in his fingers and voice. He will kill. He wants to kill, he wants to stop Coil hurting so badly, because he can't end his own pains, he can only live with them-

Coil's hate hits him like a punch. The hate that he'd even consider it, that he deserves to hurt, and he does deserve to hurt for the lives he took and that sickening resignation-

Tranquil don't say no.

Cole rips away from Coil in a whip of smoke. The knife is gone and he slams against the far wall, trying to pull himself out of Coil's pain.]

I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!

[And then he's gone, in smoke, onto the shuttle and fleeing from the ship.]

[as the spirit tears away, something in Coil crumbles as if it had been propped up by him alone. now he feels the cold. his breath returns in a broken sob, he barely catches himself on legs that want to buckle, and he wishes--for once--that he could speak.

helpless to do anything else, he screams out 'WAIT' in his own head, but the spirit is already gone.

and so, he finds himself very suddenly alone, as if he had imagined the whole thing.]

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Action: Red Fish

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