open | jeaaaaalousy

[cozen]

WHO: Anyone.
WHAT: Ferreting out imposters.
WHEN: Drakonis 9:50
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: This is a catch-all for anyone who needs a place to put logs related to the envy demon plot. Use CWs in your subject lines.

art

Some number of Riftwatch's members are, presently, envy demons in disguise. Better find them.


RECAP
Previously, all these things happened on one day actually:

• Julius was poisoned and Flint, Yseult, and Marcus killed the culprit.
  
• Marcus ordered the Gallows on lock-down. No one's allowed to leave, but Riftwatch members outside the Gallows at the time are required to return.
  
• Yseult announced the possible presence of shape-changing imposters.
  
• Byerly encouraged identifying people who might be affected.
  
• Templars had a huddle.

Comments

you pulled that reply out suspiciously fast also cw body horror

[sprent]

Despite her failure to keep up a Gela-esque manner, the sound that comes out of the struck demon still sounds very human and like her: a high-pitched, wailing scream of pain. The force knocks her backward and she falls over hard, striking her head on the stone and she is still for a second, blinking, tasting the inside of her mouth.

When she pushes herself up, it's fast. Too fast. She's also crying hard, face sagging in a way that isn't entirely right. There is something on her hands where she scraped them trying to catch herself, black, thick smears up each wrist. She cries, "Ellie!" though it was not her blow, and, baring her teeth, lunges at her with fingers spread.

She intends to bring her down. She intends to get her face to her and tear her throat out, wolf-like.

[laruetheday]

It all happens very fast. She doesn't know what exactly spurs Gwenaëlle to act when she does, if she's trying to get the element of surprise or if the situation has tipped in some way that Clarisse hasn't noticed, but either way—

Gela goes crashing to the floor, crying, and it might be okay if she's not so fucking fast. Faster than she should be, scrabbling up off the floor in what seems like a single jerky movement and already rushing forward with hands outstretched. Her face sags like water-logged paper, and the nightmarelike quality of it washes over Clarisse in a way that makes her wonder for a single instant whether any of this is real.

Gela is going for Ellie, screaming at her, baring her teeth like an animal. But she's not the only one of them faster than she should be.

Clarisse hooks her arms around Gela's waist as she rushes past and grabs her in a reverse bear hug like a wrestler going for a suplex, except instead of throwing her back she uses her own momentum to slam Gela against the nearest wall and pin her there.

"You're done," she growls.

[notathreat]

Ellie has herself ready. Her fingers are twitchy, aching for it. She can taste the adrenaline between her teeth, and when the first twitch comes she's almost ready. Instead Gwen sends the thing that isn't Gela flying into the wall, nearly crushing her.

The wailing's awful. She hates this part. She sounds too much like herself, too human, but it's the sheer amount of hatred with which Gela yells her name that gets to her.

Ellie's knife is in her hand, a streak of shock and hesitation that cuts deep.

And thank fuck Clarisse is there. She grabs her without hesitation, slams her so hard Ellie can nearly feel the impact. Her mind's reeling. She wants to throw up.

She grips her knife in her hand, moves closer, until she can see the green of the creature's eyes.

"What are you here for?" she hisses. "Why?"

[elegiaque]

With her bow in her hands — so smoothly and so swiftly that it almost feels like an extension of herself, like there's no time between not holding it and holding it — Gwenaëlle sights along the nocked arrow from where she's still holding back at a distance, much more useful at range than she is up close so long as Vanya has her sword and wouldn't they all like this not to become the kind of fight where pulling knives from her skirts is necessary. She's tense with readiness to loose it, certain that she can land a disabling, non-fatal shot if they want to try and haul the thing back for more thorough questioning,

waits. There's at least a slim chance Ellie gets something out of it now, and that chance gets slimmer if it's screaming at being kneecapped.

cw body horror!!!!

[sprent]

Gela screams again when she's tackled and slammed hard into the wall, the sound high and little-girlish. It breaks apart around a thick, full sob. She whimpers, "Ow," pathetically, staring at her attacker with big, wet eyes. She blinks, and tears cascade down her red cheeks. "Clarisse, you're hurting me."

... And a beat later, when nothing changes, the tears abruptly stop.

Okay, fine. That isn't working anymore, it's time for something different—

Gela's expression flattens. Her eyes dull and lock on Ellie, and she smiles, normal at first, a good likeness of who she's impersonating, then slowly wider, wider, even wider, impossibly so, until the gesture splits her face in two and something else bursts from between her open jaws, hauling itself out of a smaller, human casing.

Because the demon inside is bigger. It expands into the space between Clarisse and the wall and shoves against her, clawing, shoving pointy elbows outward on either side. It brings up a knee to push Clarisse back hard, breaking loose abruptly.

[elegiaque]

—nevermind, Gwenaëlle thinks, adjusting her aim and loosing the arrow as Gela does her the favour of making herself (itself? do envy demons experience gender or just gender envy?) a clearer target, skidding backwards on stocking-feet as she fires. Ice magic trails the arrow, spreading out from its impact, and she tries for a shot that's more disabling than anything but the moving target, Clarisse, Ellie,

mostly, she just prays to hit. Lady, let her hit.

more body horror

[laruetheday]

Gela's pressed against the wall, her face turned toward Ellie, and Clarisse can't see what's starting to happen.

Not until the demon is already pulling itself up and out of Gela's ripped-open face. She feels the body she's holding against the wall start to go limp, lose all its weight, sag like she's hugging a deflating balloon.

She gasps, taking a single horrified step back, but the demon is already turning itself around. It's using the sharp joints of its elbows to push itself out of the loose skin it's been cocooning within. She feels a knee hit her in the stomach at the same time the claws rip across her collarbone and down her shoulder. There's the sudden pull of split skin, the wet heat of her blood starting to flow from the wounds—

And just then, Gwen's arrow zips past her, so close that she can feel the ice magic that's trailing it, spreading as it goes.

[notathreat]

Clarisse flies back into Ellie's chest, but it's a lot stronger, a lot more solid. She doesn't even stagger, just steps back to catch her, one arm wrapping around her shoulders from behind and putting pressure on her wounds.

It's far more pressure than Ellie should be able to apply from this angle.

But then again, those aren't Ellie's eyes either. They burn gold, molten and glowing, thankfully in a way that Clarisse will find familiar.

Ellie's hand whips forward faster-than-mortal, and the heavy dwarven knife shoots forward, slams home. One-two with Gwen's arrow.

"There you fuckin' are," Ellie growls, dark with rage.

>:E

[sprent]

The arrow's hit barely registers, a needle of pain somewhere in the hip or belly, but the ice spreads, cold fingers brushing up the side of the demon and making it shudder to a halt. Something oozes from the wound, dripping luxuriously all over the floor, black and wet. It stinks.

When Ellie's knife comes flying in, flung with supernatural speed, it wedges into the demon's side; the frost magic, still creeping up and up, seals it in there.

Sagging to one side in pain, the demon lunges and crashes drunkenly, body thrashing around dangerously as it tries to claw its way closer to Clarisse, caterwauling. Limbs are flying everywhere.

[elegiaque]

The number of limbs and how many of them are attached to people that Gwenaëlle would rather not land an arrow in is really complicating the prospect of just shooting the bitch again— though, by the way she's nocked one against the here-and-not-here bowstring, that's very much still on the table. If she has to duck forward with a knife, that's an option, but she's not sure that's going to help more than it might hinder. Too many fucking limbs.

She hesitates; looks down. The thing is struggling on its feet already,

she takes aim again, and either she takes out an ankle or she slams ice magic into the stone underneath, and having decided she's fine with either of those outcomes she looses the arrow.

[laruetheday]

Everything's gotten very chaotic in a very short amount of time, but this is the kind of situation where Clarisse thrives. If the image of a demon shedding Gela's skin like a snake wasn't sitting right at the front of her mind, she'd be having a great time right now.

She shrugs out of Ellie's grasp—they can worry about scratches later—and lunges forward at the same time as Gwen shoots her second arrow. She doesn't see where it hits, only recognizes the slickness of ice under her boot for what it is and adjusts as steps forward, turning what could have been a nasty fall into more of a slide. Grabs her shortsword in the same moment, unsheathes it in one fluid motion and swings in a high, upward arc aimed for the thing's center of gravity.

Yeah, taking it alive was Plan A, but the chance for that has clearly passed. Clarisse isn't going to be at all upset when they kill this thing.

[notathreat]

It's probably overkill, but that's the only kind of thing that's acceptable to Ellie in the moment.

She whips a second knife at the thing, after Gwen's arrow but before Clarisse closes the distance, with what Ellie hopes is the finisher. She knows that swing, knows the strength behind it that Clarisse can bring to bear, and with as much as Ellie and Gwen have hurt it, it would be surprising if it got away.

She has a third knife in her hand, hair-trigger. She's always prepared to be surprised.

[sprent]

The ice magic did not hit the ankle, but Clarisse's shortsword does hit the center of the demon's body and pierce through, making it fold inelegantly, incorrectly around Ellie's second knife buried in its chest. The answering hiss is more of a death-rattle, a final summoning of energy with which to writhe around and knock the dagger out of its side (expelling another spout of horrible, black blood).

It collapses onto Clarisse, less tactical and more — dying. The ice on the floor did not help.

Then, it goes very still.

And then it starts to melt into goop.

[elegiaque]

Involuntarily— “Ugh, that's disgusting,” is sort of rich coming from the third of this party who'd managed to stay almost entirely out of snagging distance of this fight. As the demon begins to melt she takes a few steps further backward, instinctively, her toes curling underneath her bare feet, the thought of stepping in it more than horrifying.

“We should— the baths—”

And report it, but also, doesn't Clarisse want to not have this on her immediately.

“It's getting in your hair—”

[laruetheday]

It is disgusting. A rancid, rotten smell and a sick, warm wetness all dripping all over the front of her, in her hair, on her clothes.

Clarisse makes a disgusted ugh noise and pushes what's left of the body off of herself. It feels like plunging both hands into a rotten melon that's been sitting out in the sun, but the last of the demon's skin sloughs away from her to puddle on the icy floor.

She's kneeling on the ice, watching it happen. Distantly, she can hear the pattering of her own blood hitting the floor.

"Ugh," she says again. She wants to spit, even though she's pretty sure nothing got in her mouth. "Okay. We need to let someone know we killed it. And that someone's going to need to clean this up." And then she will take a bath, or whatever.