The melodious yet gutteral sound of Stacia shouting questions at him in the high tongue is something he missed, but he doesn't really have time to revel in it.
Ace is managing to keep his vital organs out of play for now but controlling Mackenzie much more than that is going to be tricky.
If he lowers his center of gravity he could probably get her over his shoulder but that would free her to rake his back relentlessly with her claws. He wouldn't make it far like that.
He manages to shout "Not sure. She is about as angry and pointy as they come. May have to wait the frenzy out."
Between breaths he is innundated with chaotic flashes of memory. That they are similar to the stories of so many other Garou doesn't diminish them in the slightest. If anything it heightens the tragedy and sorrow.
He blinks them away because he can't afford to give them any space right now but he won't forget them. These sorts of memories should be whispered to trusted friends, screamed at the open sky or chanted at Moot with Pack and Sept to aid with comfort and with vengeance. It is a violation to have them ripped from your mind and broadcast to strangers.
He did not consent to the visions but he spares a brief thought only to confirm to himself that he does consent to the burden they represent. He will mourn Mackenzies dead as if they were his own. It is the only act of defiance to the Nightrenders he can take.
Then he feels the flow shift. Time slows to a crawl and suddenly it is his memories pouring out.
His heart beats and he is somewhere else.
Stacia, all four of her limbs severed, the stumps cauterized with silver, a letter on pristine stationary with a wax seal placed carefully next to her. Her mental screams barely registering next to the deafening silence in his mind where Lilly's happy voice had been.
Another heartbeat and he is back in the fight. He shuffles his feet in the dirt, struggling to maintain leverage.
His heart pounds in his ears
Flash
Stacia again. She is now whole somehow and she does not appear as herself, but it is clear in the way of dreams that it is her. She looks on with cold satisfaction as her revenge comes to fruition.
Before her are a pack of Silver Fangs. The very same as left the letter and the other bloody 'messages'
One of the Fangs, a Theurge speaks. In the memory there is no sound but the intrinsic knowledge that he is revealing a dirty secret.
The pack's Galliard fathered a child with another Garou, an unforgivable sin in the eyes of their alpha. Information dug up and positioned just so to give rise to this very confrontation.
This is but one of many details meticulously brought together with calculating precision. The curtain risen, the players set, the pack of fangs that maimed and killed as if they had the right dance on Stasia's strings.
The Alpha flies into rage and the Theurge, terrified despite being only the messenger, tries to flee. When the Alpha finally regains control there is nothing left of his pack but motionless heaps of fur and viscera coating the walls.
Stasia doesn't lift a finger. Her expression does not change
A heartbeat
The struggle continues. Mackenzie has no shortage of rage to fuel her frenzy. The only thing keeping this from being much worse is that Ace can employ strategy while Mackenzie can be counted on to be as aggressive as possible.
He isn't really sure what to do except hope he can wear her out before the flashes of memory make him slip or she gets in a lucky hit and his intestines end up scatteted across what is left of the faire grounds.
no subject
Ace is managing to keep his vital organs out of play for now but controlling Mackenzie much more than that is going to be tricky.
If he lowers his center of gravity he could probably get her over his shoulder but that would free her to rake his back relentlessly with her claws. He wouldn't make it far like that.
He manages to shout "Not sure. She is about as angry and pointy as they come. May have to wait the frenzy out."
Between breaths he is innundated with chaotic flashes of memory. That they are similar to the stories of so many other Garou doesn't diminish them in the slightest. If anything it heightens the tragedy and sorrow.
He blinks them away because he can't afford to give them any space right now but he won't forget them. These sorts of memories should be whispered to trusted friends, screamed at the open sky or chanted at Moot with Pack and Sept to aid with comfort and with vengeance. It is a violation to have them ripped from your mind and broadcast to strangers.
He did not consent to the visions but he spares a brief thought only to confirm to himself that he does consent to the burden they represent. He will mourn Mackenzies dead as if they were his own. It is the only act of defiance to the Nightrenders he can take.
Then he feels the flow shift. Time slows to a crawl and suddenly it is his memories pouring out.
His heart beats and he is somewhere else.
Stacia, all four of her limbs severed, the stumps cauterized with silver, a letter on pristine stationary with a wax seal placed carefully next to her. Her mental screams barely registering next to the deafening silence in his mind where Lilly's happy voice had been.
Another heartbeat and he is back in the fight. He shuffles his feet in the dirt, struggling to maintain leverage.
His heart pounds in his ears
Flash
Stacia again. She is now whole somehow and she does not appear as herself, but it is clear in the way of dreams that it is her. She looks on with cold satisfaction as her revenge comes to fruition.
Before her are a pack of Silver Fangs. The very same as left the letter and the other bloody 'messages'
One of the Fangs, a Theurge speaks. In the memory there is no sound but the intrinsic knowledge that he is revealing a dirty secret.
The pack's Galliard fathered a child with another Garou, an unforgivable sin in the eyes of their alpha. Information dug up and positioned just so to give rise to this very confrontation.
This is but one of many details meticulously brought together with calculating precision. The curtain risen, the players set, the pack of fangs that maimed and killed as if they had the right dance on Stasia's strings.
The Alpha flies into rage and the Theurge, terrified despite being only the messenger, tries to flee. When the Alpha finally regains control there is nothing left of his pack but motionless heaps of fur and viscera coating the walls.
Stasia doesn't lift a finger. Her expression does not change
A heartbeat
The struggle continues. Mackenzie has no shortage of rage to fuel her frenzy. The only thing keeping this from being much worse is that Ace can employ strategy while Mackenzie can be counted on to be as aggressive as possible.
He isn't really sure what to do except hope he can wear her out before the flashes of memory make him slip or she gets in a lucky hit and his intestines end up scatteted across what is left of the faire grounds.