Portal Breach: The Collision of Worlds :: v.4.0


    Brittle Bones and Putrid Pondering

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    Mortis
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    Brittle Bones and Putrid Pondering

    Post by Mortis on Wed Aug 12, 2015 8:14 am

    Time: Late Night
    Date: August 11, 0006

    A scream pierced the night, a shrill dagger through the veil of darkness and serene silence.

    It's sounds would have been out of place should it have occurred within a quiet country-side or vast forest, but within the Outer District it was merely too much in-place. What was truly alien, as its owner swiftly made their panicked race through numerous winding alleyways and down empty streets, was how long it had echoed. Usually there was some sort of sound in the background, a car driving down the street at night as someone went off to clock in for their night shift within the protected areas of the city, the muffled sounds of conversation as a drug deal went on behind the numerous decaying structures, gun-shots from a disagreement went wrong (or perhaps too right) between gangs would have been more welcome than the stifling quiet.

    It was only when she nearly fell face first onto the pavement that she realized why. Something large and heavy caught her foot mid stride, knocking her into an off-balance scramble to stay on her feet. In the dark, it was hard to see much of anything, especially when the alleyways held little in the ways of lighting. What had tipped her off as to what she could have possibly stumbled over, was the sheer reek it gave off. With a gagging sound she pulled the edge of her shirt up to cover her mouth, finding the stink rather familiar in its repulsiveness. It was enough to make her stop in her frantic attempt to get away from it, turning around to better see what it was she had nearly fallen over.

    Though the moonlight did not give much away in regard to details, she knew the form when she saw it. A human corpse, it looked as if it had been decaying here for weeks, perhaps months... That did not make any sense, she had come through here earlier a few days ago and there was nothing except discarded crates and paper refuse that managed to flutter out of the dumpsters. She stepped back, but abruptly stopped as she heard a soft squelch, her heel sinking into something wet and the foul odor seeming to double in its intensity. Swiftly turning around, her eyes by now had adjusted enough to make out more than a moonlit outline, as yet another rotted body lay on the pavement, its middle caved from where she had clumsily stepped. However, they were not the only two, for she soon noticed that there were more; five, ten at least sat crumpled and sprawled through the alleyway, each seeming to be in a worse state of decomposition than the last.

    "SSssss..."

    Whatever disgust and horror that filled the woman's mind soon fled in the onrush of adrenaline, a chill racing down her spine at the new sound. With how silent this part of the Outer District had become, that hiss seemed to be far louder than it actually was. Not that she cared to fret over it, as she was quickly on the run once more, vaulting the numerous dead bodies as she desperately made for the street.

    At least until something cold and rigid grabbed her ankle. With a shriek she was forced to stop and try to kick it off,  green, rotted flesh wrapped around her leg with no sign of letting go. Another soon joined it, the very bodies that had been lifeless but moments before now rooting her in place with their own dead hands. She thrashed and kicked, sweat beading on her brow in her frantic fighting. Bone snapped, ripe green skin ripped, and limbs were crushed beneath her boots, but still her attackers did not relent, gripping fervently to the denim of her jeans.

    She was so focused that she hardly noticed the sound of bare feet quietly making their way towards her, thick nails tapping and scratching against asphalt. "Ceassse your ssstruggling, sssinner. The time for your sssentence iss nigh." It graveled, all too pleased with himself as he pressed forward, slowly, deliberately.

    The woman's face contorted into a snarl at his voice, attempting to turn around to see her pursuer. "I don't need sentencing you freak! I just got back from being dead, I'm not going down there again!" Came her retort, her struggle to get out of the grip of her corpse restraints renewing with vigor. "Go kill someone else!"

    Her anger was met with a hoarse bark of a laugh. "Thiss isss not negotiable, my dear." With his seemingly amused hiss, It finally emerged from the shadows, rotted mantle and skeletal bade clear in the moonlight. She did not need to read the badge in order to know its name, especially since as of late this creeping ghoul had taken special interest in this particular stretch of the Outer District. It's appearance and the name etched into his badge were well known by now, along with the other that tended to work with him. The numerous rotting hands holding her in place flexed, pushing her around until his wooden badge and the name etched upon it stared back at her. At least until a rotted claw rose to grasp her chin, surprisingly gentle as it tilting it up so she was forced to look right into the Dark Judge's empty sockets. "The crime isss life, and the sssentence isss death. Ssso long ass you keep returning, I will keep bringing you to jussstice. Frankly, misss, I think you ssshould make it eassier on yourssself and ssstay dead." His advice, of course, fell on deaf ears.

    "No, we won't! We have jobs, lives. You think we are going to just drop everything because you get off to killing people?" She spat, attempting to wrestle her face out of Mortis' grip. His talons only tightened upon her flesh, yellowed claw tips digging into her cheeks, and she found she was stuck in place. "Sooner or later, you are going to get tired, or going to get your ass beat! People are going to get tired of you!" For all of her hissed and outraged statements, the sheep-skull headed Judge did not appear all that discouraged, the icy chill of his touch spreading through the rest of her body.

    "The law doesss not tire. You cannot desstroy an idea, nor can you keep running from your inevitable fate." He hissed, as if trying to instill sense into the insane. "You sssentence isss death."

    "You're full of shi-aaaugh!" Her last words were abruptly cut off, body rotting and crumbling to mulch within seconds and after that, code. With it, the dead that littered the alleyway released their grip and returned to their still state of rigor. Once again the streets were silent, at least for the time being. For a few days now Mortis had decided to concentrate his efforts on this particular area of the Outer District, routinely purging any and all he found within the boundaries set for himself. Each and every time he came here there was someone, something wandering around. Gang members, drug dealers, prostitutes, vagrants, any and all affronts to the law were abound. Each and every one of them he dutifully captured and sentenced, sending them off to where they would rest and within seven days, be reborn again.

    Or at least, most of them. There were always a few who did not turn to code upon judgement.

    Days of work later, Mortis had finally tracked down the last resident. With her final scream dying upon the wind, the streets were now completely dead, nothing but the moaning of a breeze passing through the streets remained. For a short while, even if it was only contained to a select number of blocks, the Dark Judge felt some amount of accomplishment. This area was purged, swept of crime and iniquity...

    Until those he killed returned from the void. All his effort, all his dutiful care and diligence would be a short, hollow victory. In seven days they would return, and he would have to start all over again.

    "Ssss..." Carefully he stepped over the ones he had successfully laid to an eternal rest, and out onto the empty street. In the wake of his more judicial thoughts, a familiar longing started to take hold. Wistful for what had used to be, before this dimension, before being damned to a world where the dead can choose to come back to life...

    Before his dilemma and sudden clumsiness. He damned himself for it, for letting his guard down, for getting Fear involved where he should have never been. All of it, every thought and feeling, was his fault.

    His sights turned to the rusted husk of an old car, long ago stripped of its wheels and anything else that could be pawned off for some quick cash. Bones creaking and ancient joints sighing with each step, Mortis approached it and leaned up against its side. He reached down into his belt pocket, retrieving a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, its metal beginning to tarnish from having been subject to his putrid aura for a while. Still, it was but surface wear, and still lighted faithfully with a click. Raising the now smoldering smoke to his teeth, the Judge decided to take a moment to think as he puffed the rest of the moonlight away.

    But not before making sure he was completely isolated. Immediately a mental barrier cropped itself up, effectively sealing himself off from the mental link between himself and his brother. As much as he kept insisting upon complete and open honesty, Mortis doubted that the fellow Judge knew exactly what he was insinuating, or what he would bring bubbling to the surface.
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    Re: Brittle Bones and Putrid Pondering

    Post by Mortis on Wed Aug 12, 2015 7:04 pm

    He had been doing so well...

    How many days, weeks had he gone without letting on anything was out of the ordinary? Nothing he had done had let on that anything was amiss or changed about himself, he still purged day in and day out, bringing justice to the iniquitous. His thoughts had not been compromised to where he could not fulfill his task. Yet... The longer time went on since the initial slip, he could not help but feel suspected, and no matter what he did he was starting to slip up just enough to warrant it.

    His thoughts returned to an earlier evening, and soon early morning, within the Sanctuary...

    "...It isss tempting to leave him in ignorance."
    "Oh come off it, Mortisss. There'sss no need for sssecrecy."

    Benign intent or not, the Judge was no fool. Fear had said that for a reason, and it held nothing to do with the joke they had played upon an unwitting Kev. Especially given his earlier actions. He had told himself to stay out of the affairs regarding his brother and the green sinner, but when each time he came to visit his brother that scaly green creature was with him...It made such an objective difficult. Each time he arrived, it appeared he was butting in, either on a more private moment or a conversation.

    Of course, this was not the case, Fear had made it perfectly clear that his presence was welcome. However, that did not stop his suspicions from getting the better of him. Especially when they were starting to feel more and more warranted. A plume of cancerous smoke curled from between the bones in his nasal cavity, his thoughts going back to a particularly uncanny moment. Kev had been allowed to lie. Yes, it was a small matter, something he expected from the likes of a sinner... But it was Fear's reaction to it that he found disconcerting. He faltered, he had let it slide and said nothing. Not an objection to the green sinner's blatant fib, nor did he interrupt and fill in with lawful honesty where the other was so flawed. What Judge of the law is allowed to be stunned into silence by something that was to be expected from those that they routinely hunted down and brought to justice? In a brief moment, Mortis began to wonder... Could his brother have said nothing out of weakness, a bias towards the smaller alien? The two had grown rather close, as of late. Bargain or not, something about his brother was changing and he was uncertain if he liked where it was going.

    His hand flexed and clenched at the pack of smokes in his grip. Of course, the same could be argued of what Fear thought about Mortis' own changes. Perhaps he too was uncertain about him having to shut himself away, albeit for a brief while, nothing but a small blink in comparison to their limitless span of existence. However, it still was far longer than any time they had spent apart in the Mega City, where they were always connected.

    Perhaps his willingness to let the alien be so bold towards him reflected this? That was not to say Mortis did not notice Fear's later scolding upon the alien, he heard the both of them clearly over their link before he deemed it necessary to cut himself off. It sounded genuine enough to be seen as honest, but all the same, it could not help but be seen as a little too late in its execution...

    His grip on the packet lessened, while he certainly suspected something odd regarding Fear, he knew where the fellow Judge's loyalties lied. Or at least he would like to think that he knew. All the same, he knew the true root of all this suspicion, it held nothing to do with wondering about Fear's stance regarding his loyalty, nor did it have to do with the lie or anything that Kev had done. Had this occurred a few months ago, Mortis would have treated the alien to seeing what his scaly little self would have looked like from the inside out. He would not have even held all that much interest in the jokes Fear shared with him, whether secretive or not. All of this, he knew, stemmed from those... feelings. That which he kept sinking ever deeper into the recesses of his consciousness, weighed down with barrier after barrier to keep from rising back up to the surface.

    Yet, they still did.

    They still bubbled back up to plague him, albeit in small ways. It was not as if the ghoul was outwardly flirting with the other or making his thoughts and attraction blatantly obvious, he had succeeded in that route. But each time they did bubble up, it was apparent that something was amiss. Just enough to warrant attention, that made him stand out despite all that he did to keep everything out of sight and out of mind.

    There was only one reason that they kept coming back up, the only way that they ever had a chance to meddle with his behavior. The feelings existed and he failed to purge himself of them. It was a loss that was continuously coming back up to nip at his rotted ankles, sink its fangs into the bones of his very being. It was sickening, disgusting, he thought, that he was having the struggle that he was to keep them buried away, not to mention destroy them outright. Was he not a Judge of the law? Had he not been trained to be strong, unyielding, diligent in his work to surpass any possible temptations that would distract him from his duties? How vexing it was, to have done so well in controlling himself, carefully maintaining himself to the parameters set for such weaknesses, such shortcomings.

    Yet, his thoughts kept coming back to Fear in terms of why he was having the troubles he had, no matter how much of himself sternly reminded that it was his own burdens that were getting in the way. There was still one factor that the undead Judge could not help but wonder to factor in.

    Humanity.

    Ever since Fear had started staying around Kev, Mortis began to notice the differences in his brother's attitude. How had he acted back when they first started this entire fiasco? He seemed to remember something rather different than his current display...

    Well you might asss well be drokking Sssidney, thinking that I, a Judge of the law, would be ssso crassss asss to go out on a date and forsssake our eternal OATH!
    You ssshould never sssee usss asss anything!
    Kev isss not my Mrsss. Gunderssson and that isss final,

    Ah, yes. By the book, and perhaps like himself in terms of how he saw the tiny green thing. He had been far more willing to purge him than go and sit on the couch in the Sanctuary, cuddling, gossiping, they even had in-jokes with each other! Whatever there was between them, he could tell it ran deeper than the surface tolerance that Mortis had for him. He liked the scaly creature, it was evident enough whenever he managed to pick up on their goings-on, either unwittingly or as a product of his own curiosity. He took another deep drag of his cigarette, the smoke exhaled between his teeth to fade on the summer night breeze. It was not only an attraction that he noted, but a change in the Judge's overall behavior. Gone had been the thinly veiled zeal that the Judge had been so used to seeing prior to this arrangement, a toughened exterior and undivided will to purge this planet of life regardless of who spoke against it, instead there seemed to be something more... sensitive. Whether it be an effect of spending more time around Judge Fear or his time spent around Kev, it was a side that he had not been used to seeing.

    This more human side was admittedly far more alien than anything that was borne from the depth's of Fear's gaze. It was alien, and the Judge now started to wonder if it was starting to leech across their link and into his own mindset. If so it would explain  in some manner why exactly he was having so much trouble keeping everything bottled and stored away. After all, the feelings that he held and the problems they caused were purely that which could be attributed to a sinner and their inherent mindset. If their sudden revival came from his brother's prolonged interactions with Kev...

    Another drag, another carcinogenic cloud puffed out to the dark.

    It made all too much sense to not be true.
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    Re: Brittle Bones and Putrid Pondering

    Post by Mortis on Thu Aug 13, 2015 12:03 am

    This humanity... It had to be the reason why he was starting to slip up so much. Being unable to control one's feelings, letting them get in the way of what was far more important, these were all human traits, behavior he would expect from a sinner, a person.

    A person...

    One other had compared him to that only a night ago. Someone who really should not have noticed anything, given her lack of psychic ability. Curves, as Fear tended to call her, Cailia, as he tended to address her when speaking. Somehow she had managed to see that something was amiss... But how? What could she have managed to interpret to mean there was a problem?

    Then again it must be something else if you were steady guzzling like no tomorrow.
    I can guzzle if I ssso wisssh.
    You can, but with a reason I'm sure.
    There need not be a reassson.
    There doesn't need to be, but there usually is.
    I think you look too far into thingsss.
    How people work.
    I am not 'people'.
    You were a person once.
    I am a Judge, undead. It doesss not mean I am one now.
    You still are one. Dead or not dead.

    A reason to drink... Had he truly indulged so much that it made one think there was a problem? He had taken to drinking before, and she had not asked about it, what made this time so different? Or more, was she even aware of there being a problem to begin with. The Judge was well aware of this affliction known as humanity, and how it came to instill bias, hesitation in one's duties. There had to be a disconnect between Judge and sinner, law and criminal. It was a line that could not be blurred or crossed for any reason, for any and all reasons were merely paltry excuses to abandon one's oath. In this, the distance required between being a servant of the law and a 'person' was great. Yet, so long as he remained connected to Fear, and Fear remained connected to Kev... He feared that distance was shrinking with every passing interaction. So long as he needed to uphold his duties and his oaths, he could not let that distance grow any shorter than it already had become. However, this still did not answer why exactly Cailia had perceived a problem on Mortis' end...

    Perhaps it was merely a rebuttal to his own jabs and ribbing, nothing more. Although the more accurate term he likely should use, given Fear's insight, is confrontational behavior. He was being confrontational towards Cailia, and so she felt it necessary to pester him over his drinking, whether or not he thought of himself as a "person." "Sssss.." One more drag and the Judge finished his cigarette, flicking the butt to the pavement and crushing it beneath his calloused foot. The inquiry was asinine enough to send him to the garden to finish his drink. Simple, obvious questions with simple, obvious answers.

    Of course they thought themselves above the sinners they purged.

    Of course they remembered certain indulgences in life and went back to old habits pertaining them, even though they could not feel the effects.

    Of course they made the sentences of certain sinners longer than others for their crimes, and others far shorter. They were undead superfieds, sadistic behavior was to be expected. Unless she had already forgotten who the two of them had acted during their first few months of being here.

    They were no longer human, they were no longer living, they were not people. Yet, all the same Mortis found himself having to stick barrier after barrier up around that accursed pandora's box of feeling and desires.  It was unnecessary to have such emotions, he knew. Especially when they would be unrequited, damned, and set about a liable accusation to say he was not fit for his badge. Once again, damned he was to keep them bottled, and damned if he were to let them free and out in the open. Of course, he could always attempt to destroy what he had built, completely wipe his enclave of memories and feelings from his mind... For all the good it had done when he attempted to do it last time.

    But, should he keep them and stay connected to Fear, sooner or later they would break free from his control. It was evident enough that his reign upon what he was feeling, what he was doing was starting to slip. Whether it be getting overly interested in what Kev and Fear had come up with behind his back as a joke, or distracting himself with drinking so as to not have a rehash of that particular night, there was always going to be a sign that something was wrong. Something was bothering good old Mortis and no one could let him be well enough alone over it. Of course, he knew what the simplest route would be. He would stay out of the Sanctuary and leave Kev and Fear to themselves. He would filter out what they did together, as he had done in the past given it was none of his business.

    Which, when it came down to it, was never his business to begin with.

    Yet, he could not help but keep pondering exactly what they were doing behind his back, a sort of curiosity more than it was jealousy or envy. Was this how Death's relationship with Mrs. Gunderson tended to go? Reviewing his memories over the matter, of course it didn't. Death had stayed to his room and mourned over the failure of his plan, his grand scheme to finally turn the Mega City into a second Necropolis. The most gentleness he had ever shown the woman was staying to himself and letting her live. He did not cuddle, he did not make in-jokes with her, he did not make her tea and biscuits. This behavior was strictly between Kev and Fear only. Therein, the ghoul found himself puzzled...

    Cowardsss sssometimesss lasssst longer. Look at Kev.
    Hisss time comess ssoon enough.
    No, hisss time comesss when it issss ordained. We have a bargain.

    Could all of this have stemmed from the bargain alone? The affection, the change in Fear's personality? Was it all an act that would drop the moment it was done? As much as he would like to think Fear would return to his usual self, albeit a little more aware of his surroundings than before, he highly doubted the latter possibility would be the case. It was developed, it was genuine.

    It scared him.

    However, the undead Judge damn well that he was not about to tell Fear to lay off the more human feelings, the empathy and depth that was slowly but surely starting to seep over to his side of their link. If it was a part of keeping good with Kev, he would keep doing it for the sake of his oath, his bargain. Certainly he likely did not mean for any of this happen as a side effect of being around the scaly green sinner, but if that was the case, would he not have warded it off, kept their minds separate?

    He fished out another smoke from the carton and lit it, pinning the rolled stick between his teeth and let it burn. Something about Kev's mind had been appealing, it drew him in and gave him something that the man had missed... That had to be why he kept allowing it to be present within his mind, and in turn, trickle over the link. It was no different than when Mortis had been stuck with Fire for a long while in Limbo. By the time he came out to enact Necropolis with Death and his brothers, there was definite edge to his personality, a brash flame that seemed more at home with Fire than his frigid thoughts. Sooner or later, it would be a repeat of the same thing with Fire, only instead of developing a rather fiery temper, it could instead develop into him becoming soft.

    Soft like Kev, soft like...

    He quickly shook the name from his thoughts, taking a drag from his newest cigarette. No, Fear had not grown soft. At least not to the point where he could not partake in his duties. Reserved was more the word to describe the ghoul's recent behavior. Diplomatic, perhaps, willing to entertain the inquiries of the individuals who visited for conversation and relaxation. He was being smart. Even if his behavior was starting to grow biased around the green sinner, it was for a reason.

    Smoke curled from his nasal cavity as he exhaled, and with it came a chilling epiphany.

    What if he was the one growing soft? Certainly, he killed with the best of them, he was dutiful and focused in his work. At least, usually. Lately he had been the one with questionable behavior, he had been the one to make his brother start wondering frequently if he was doing alright. He was growing unstable, and the others could see it all too clearly. His outburst over their mental link but a day ago was evidence enough of this, the words exchanged still ringing clearly within his head.

    I care not.
    Well I do. We are but two, Mortisss. We mussst be careful. Apathy will only get usss contained. Isss that not the downfall of Death?
    ... You are... correct.
    Of courssse I am, usssse that intellect you were renowned for! What if you were contained prematurely becaussse you let your temper get the bessst of you?
    ...SSss... Our planss would fail.
    I cannot do thisss alone, Mortissss. I cannot do thisss without you.

    He could not do this without him... He needed him, and lately all he had been doing was proving that he was becoming potentially unreliable, a liability instead of an asset. His grip flexed once again against the paper carton, his talons digging into the laminate as his fetid aura started to eat away at the shiny outer covering, thin plastic flaking away and falling to the ground. He could hear the carton start to buckle and rot under his touch, feel it crumple in his grip while he stared out at the rows of darkened buildings. However, a packet of cigarettes was the least of his worries...

    His problems, his conflict was making him into a weak link.

    He was the problem.

    He was a liability

    He would be responsible should their plans fail.

    He was weak.
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    Re: Brittle Bones and Putrid Pondering

    Post by Mortis on Thu Aug 13, 2015 3:54 am

    He was weak and it was all his fault. He failed in trying to cover his feelings, he failed in trying to keep himself composed, he failed to be what Fear needed him to be. He was letting feelings get in the way where they held no place. Of the four he had always seen himself as the more collected, calm one of their quartet, a buffer against Fear's zeal, Fire's temper, and Death's eccentricity. He was smart, sensible, calculating...

    Now what was he?

    Even that sinner Cailia could tell something was wrong, his brother could tell something was off, and likely Kev could tell something was wrong as well, though he never seemed to admit it. He had to do something about this before it got too out of hand, before he was too compromised to carry out his duties. Immediately his thoughts turned to that accursed mental chest, filled to the brim with emotion and memories. That was the cause of everything, the start of all his problems, his weaknesses. If he wanted to better himself, he knew that would need to get rid of it.

    You failed that as well.

    He had, hand't he? He had tried to purge those memories, those cherished moments of times past, when he was human, when they all were human. Times where they were all still together, on Deadworld, in the Mega City, before they had been brought here by the portals. All that longing, that passion and admiration still were there, fruitless in their purpose and overall useless. Having taken a glance back at that waste of mental space, it made him wonder just what possessed him to make it. He knew he would never receive what he was looking for, all it was doing was serving as a mirror of the same humanity that Fear gave off, and feeding off of it at the same time. It was a parasite.

    It tempted him to go against their regulations and laws, with little to no reward at the end of it. In all, it was something that he would expect to see in the mind of a sinner instead of himself. It was unjust, iniquitous.

    How do you know?

    The Judge mentally hissed at the inquiry, taking another drag. Literally, he had no idea what would befall him should he follow these feelings, whether or not they would be good for him or not. However, his inner Judge drowned out those doubts, that possibility that it could turn out fine, or that there would be no repercussions. He knew there would be hell to pay should he decide to commit to these... passions, instead of follow their codes, he knew that very well. Fear would not reciprocate,  Death would not have reciprocated, and Fire, likely would have followed the other two in their example. Yet for some reason it was far more painful to try and remove these feelings, this love.

    There was no point in dealing with both the pain of knowing his brothers would never feel the same, and the pain from having to bottle up the emotions and memories associated with these feelings. Not when could just remove the source, saving both himself and Fear from a massive headache, along with the other two of his brothers should they ever arrive.

    It would be the logical thing, it would be the right thing.

    What about Fear?

    He would no longer be compromised.

    Fear cares about you just as much as the mission.

    He would no longer be the weaker link, the one that needed care.

    You know he is worried.

    There would be no more delusions. No more setbacks, no more unstable behavior that required doting and care.

    He is your brother.

    The law comes first.

    crrmple!

    Another puff of smoke and he glanced down at his hand, the rotted remains of his cigarette pack crushed within his grip with a puff of dusty, decayed remains of tobacco and paper. He had destroyed it without even realizing, leaving his talons to press into the palm of his hand, the sickly remains shuddering with ever so slight tremors across its surface. the evidence of his turmoil was overwhelming, to the point where it even manifested in the actions of his host body. Again that familiar fear coursed through him. He was not himself, he was growing weaker by the day and it would only be a matter of time before that carton became a euphemism for their plans and execution.

    His skull tilted upward, to the night sky and what stars managed to make it through the light pollution of the inner city area. He needed distance, clarity...

    He needed to leave. He could not keep purging and manage to mend himself at the same time, there were too many distractions, too many things he needed to focus on. The time left to himself, where he could sit within his own consciousness and work on strengthening himself was dismally short, and the when he was connected to Fear?
    Humanity trickled over their link like a steadily dripping faucet, each drop, each little thought or sensation only feeding what he had hidden away. It fed it false hope, fantasies that he knew to be only that. Worst of all it reflected onto him, it compromised his own thoughts, planting feeling and sympathy where there should be none.

    A plan quickly forming in mind, Mortis smoothed over his mental state, clearing the wrinkles that were his personal conflict and leaving only icy reason. His prior analysis, his strife and anguish were quickly swept down to the very back of his mind. He would need to in order to state his case to Fear. Should the fellow Judge notice anything awry, it would likely raise more questions than he wished to answer. Finally, when he was confident everything was cleared and nothing remained but the plan in mind, he dropped the barrier and sent a message over the link.

    Brother, I had been thinking over the goingsss-on in the Sssanctuary the night before. It hasss been realized that perhapsss I need to take leave from thisss city, and each other to take time to myssself in order to become more... Ssstable, for the sssake of our planss. My leave will be no longer than two weeksss, on the lassst day, I will reessstablisssh our link and return. Farewell, brother. Good purging.

    Once he was certain his brother had received and understood it, the barrier went back up. Mortis replaced the lighter back into his belt pouches and dusted the remains of the cigarette carton from his hands, turning his skull towards the way out of the ghettos. From how close the bustle of highway traffic seemed to be, it would not be too far of a walk to leave the district and travel to what lay beyond.

    Goal in mind and a plan to set in motion, the Dark Judge stood away from the rusted hulk he was leaned against and started making his way out.

      Current date/time is Fri Jul 21, 2017 10:52 am