Video

[killedwithlove]

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.

Comments

[mortalcoil]

[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.]

[killedwithlove]

[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.]

[mortalcoil]

[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.]

[killedwithlove]

[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.]

[mortalcoil]

[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.]