23rd metal . CTS spam

[godsays]

[ It's after Cassel's announcement that Zane can be found in the CTS.

The scene is medieval - or, ancient, anyway. Armor, swords, horses. A battle. As the door out of the CTS closes behind him, they surround him, weapons braced. He blinks back anguished emotion, and tosses back a vial of metals, and touches steel, pewter.

He launches into the air, and the fight begins.

There are hundreds of them, and only one of him: and yet. He slaughters them. He uses the metal they carry to Push and Pull himself; he is always faster, always stronger, and he is the utter picture of grace.

He kills them all.

And when they are dead, the bright green hill of a battlefield strewn with corpses, he goes into the forest. Braces himself against one tree and flings metal at another, a thud-thud of swords, knives, shields whipping and burying themselves into the bark. He Pushes, and Pushes, until finally the tree splinters and collapses, crashing slowly and mightily into the ground.

He keeps destroying the trees, over and over, until someone interrupts - or another army shows up. ]

Comments

[youwillgotohell]

I'll leave you. [She thinks of the bodies she has to walk back through, and closes her eyes for a moment, arms crossed in front of her. There's nothing she can do for him, so there's no point in staying.]

[godsays]

I didn't say you should leave.

[youwillgotohell]

[She opens her eyes again, looks from him to the fallen trees and back.]

Do you want me to stay? [She's not opposed to the idea - just confused.]

[godsays]

What do you want?

[youwillgotohell]

I don't know. [And she wish she did, so shes struggles, reaches for something.] I want - you not to feel as if you have to massacre an army. [Even as she wishes she'd had him at Camlann, it all would have been so very different.]

[godsays]

You don't like knowing what a killer I am.

[youwillgotohell]

[She lets out a quiet, almost surprised laugh at that.] Killers don't bother me, Zane.

[godsays]

Why not?

[ It bothers him, now. ]

[youwillgotohell]

[She shrugs, walking toward a tree he's left standing to pick at a piece of bark.] We are what we are. [What they were made to be. But a thought occurs to her, and she turns to look at him again.] It bothers you.

[godsays]

A killer is what I was made. It isn't what I was born to be.

[ He stares at one of the trees, bristling with armor and weapons embedded into the trunk.

He reaches down and pulls a sword free. ]

I want to be more.

[ The sword is still bloodied. ]

[youwillgotohell]

[She eyes the sword for a moment, not unsettled but not comfortable - then she crosses to that tree, find another sword and pulls; she needs her magic to help remove it, and there's a brief glow of her eyes.]

Then what were you born to be? [She turns the sword in her hand with a practiced motion. She hasn't forgotten everything.]

[godsays]

Ask my father, and he'd say a weapon. Ask my mother... I don't know.

But I think, [ And he swings the sword, a roll around his hand, testing the weight ] that something happens when a child is born. There's something more there, that didn't come from either of the parents. Life.

And that's what you take away when you kill.

[youwillgotohell]

Life is exactly what our parents give us. It's our opportunities that they take away.

[The only warning she gives is physical; she swings her sword up at him, certain he'll block it.]

I made myself a killer.

[godsays]

[ He does block the swing, strong and easy. If he stopped burning pewter, they might be more or less on even ground, especially considering how tired he is. He considers it. ]

Do you like being that way?

[youwillgotohell]

[When she was younger, she'd sparred with Arthur. It was how she learned the sword. The upper hand she'd had on him then was having the speed to match his strength. He blocks, and she lets her sword slide off, sweeping it around lower, at his middle.

It's easier to think about thrust and parry rather than being a monster. It's easier to let answers slip out, too.]

No. I don't - I don't know. It's better than being nothing.

[godsays]

[ This time, a dodge, a smooth and swift step back. It isn't as perfect as it might be with atium, which would let him see the future, but it's effective nonetheless. This time, he angles in to attack. ]

I know how you feel.

[youwillgotohell]

[She takes the sword in both hands, raises it across her body and meets his attack with a parry. He's stronger, and she's prepared to give ground. She's prepared to use magic if he's too strong.]

I know you do.

I thought if I embraced it, nothing could hurt me anymore.

[godsays]

[ He wonders what she will do if he's too fast, so he does two quick strikes, moving with the fast grace of a dancer, a snake. ]

[youwillgotohell]

[She steps, blocks, sees the second strike coming and knows she won't stop it in time.

There's the smallest flare of fear - no mortal blade can kill me, and the sharpness of an immortal blade - and her eyes glow.]

Scildan.

[The sword glances off of - air, of of an invisible shield, and she presses her attack. Better than letting her discomfort settle.]

[godsays]

[ He smiles, and he retreats a little, defends himself without attacking. ]

You would make a good Mistborn.

[youwillgotohell]

You would make a good sorcerer.

[And she smiles, because isn't that what they are, really? The difference isn't so grand.]

[godsays]

Do you want to try Jumping?

[youwillgotohell]

I don't know how.

[godsays]

You can't. But I can carry you.

[youwillgotohell]

[She gives it pause, and thought, turning the sword in her hand. Finally she throws it down, hard enough to stick out of the ground, and steps toward him.]

All right.