this day started with our crucifixion and went on with a zombie fight and a death game and the worst part is still that i'm sleeping in the same room as you
CN: violence, gore, implied cannibalism, self harm, not negotiated kissing of a sleeping person, dementia/rabies analogies
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
[kiss request "a kiss that won't be remembered" for the Mörk Borg versions of Minas and Teo. I'll just tag the whole group here, since I love them all of them are relevant in this writing: Minas belongs to @ghoulcaro who also requested this, Israh belongs to @constantlytiredghost, Qin belongs to @noxachi, the amazing DM and enabler of this Oneshot was @arocalyptic]
“I will never give up on you
I see the real you
Even if you don't, I do, I do
And it seems like I've known you forever
I'll keep you sane for one more night
Need you to know that it's alright
I see the real you
Even if you don't, I do”
Three Days Grace - The Real You
It was silent now, both outside and inside the church they had chosen as their place to spend the night. Everyone else was asleep already – as much as they could be, at least.
Minas couldn’t sleep. Restless as he was, he tried not to make any noise, not to disturb the other’s sleep at least. Or rather, not disturb Israh’s sleep (was it sleeping? Did angels sleep or was it more of a trance the tall graceful creature was submerged in while leaning on Minas?). He didn’t care that much for the other half of the group. At least he kept telling himself that. Alright, he cared about Qin, even though they had taken part in the mess of today.
Minas did not care about Teo, though. For all he cared, he could never enjoy a full night’s sleep again, that was the least he deserved. If they weren’t all already in hell, Minas would be glad to send him there himself. After everything he had done today, all the troubles he had caused, the danger he had put himself in-
Minas put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes. Why, after all this time, after his own death, had he still not learned? He moved his hands from his eyes to his hair, ran his fingers and paw back through his human hair and over the bristles of wolf fur. He lifted his head and looked over to the church benches, where Teo and Qin were sleeping. Both of them were covered in mud and dirt, and Minas couldn’t help but notice that the amount of blood on their clothes had increased after they had gone out to look for whatever had caused the noises outside. Minas didn’t want to know what had happened. He really, really didn’t want to know that.
Yet despite the blood and the way both of them clutched their weapons, they did seem almost serene in their sleep… Teo had fallen asleep sitting up against the bench, but now he had toppled a bit to the side, leaning against Qin, who had one leg wrapped around him. Minas winced as he noticed the way in which Teo was holding Dex, only one hand holding the Zweihänder’s hilt, the other laid around blade, pressing the flat side against his cheek, almost – no, exactly like he was cuddling the weapon. Droplets of blood were spilling from little cuts on his hand and on his face.
For a moment, Minas considered adjusting Teo’s grip on Dex, so he wouldn’t hurt himself too bad, wouldn’t lose yet another finger, or poke his eye out or even kill himself. But that would probably wake him up. And he seemed comfortable. He was probably enjoying the pain. And what did Minas care? It was not as if he wanted Teo to be safe. In fact, everyone would be better off if he was dead. It was not as if he cared about Teo’s well-being, right? Right?
Minas looked up at Israh, and, carefully, lifted it off himself. It was easy enough, the angelic creature seeming light as a feather in Minas’ big mutated arms. He set it down gently on the ground, leaving his coat as a pillow for them. Minas watched it for a few more moments, making sure he hadn’t woken or discomforted it.
Then he looked over at Qin and Teo again, who were also still sound asleep. He stepped closer to the two, crouching down next to Teo, but still keeping a safe distance, so Teo couldn’t just jump at him and slit his throat if he woke up.
Minas sighed. He was tired, and confused, and he didn’t know what he was doing, what he was doing in this valley, or what he was doing here on the floor, kneeling next to the man who had murdered him.
“I’m…” He only realized what he was saying as the words left his mouth, and he knew how pathetic it sounded, how stupid it all was, and still it was the only thing he could say. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have been of better help to you.” He avoided looking at Teo’s face, staring at the blade in his hands instead, and that almost made him laugh. Now it looked like he was talking to Dex as well. Maybe he was…
He had never met Dexter. Not alive, at least. When Minas had paid Teo and him a visit that day, Dexter had already been almost dead, his body covered in gashes and stab wounds from the blade he himself had forged, torn to pieces by the man who once loved him, and… Minas’ stomach churned at the memory. He really didn’t want to think about it, but the image was burned into his brain, like the curse he had gotten that day was burned into his body. Teo turning around to him, his sword and hands and mouth covered in the blood of his husband, the deranged but loving grin on his lips turning almost into a sneer at the interruption, as he walked towards Minas and plunged the blade into his chest.
The worst part was that deep down, Minas felt he had deserved that. Not because he had interrupted them, like Teo had complained. But if he had been able to help Teo, like he had promised… Or if, at least, he hadn’t told him that he was doing well enough to return home. Maybe Dexter would still be alive then. He’d deluded himself. Maybe because he had been so desperate to help someone. Maybe because he didn’t want to accept that Teo was too far gone. Maybe…
He looked at Teo now, almost peaceful in his sleep, seeking closeness both with Dex and Qin. He seemed calm. Minas wondered if he was dreaming, if he could still dream, if whatever sickness it was that attacked his brain left him at least that. Maybe he was dreaming of what he had lost. Maybe he was dreaming of murder.
“I know you’re still in there”, Minas muttered, more to himself than to the sleeping man. “I know there’s still something…” He didn’t let himself finish the sentence. Stupid. It was exactly this kind of wishful thinking that had gotten him into this mess.
He hadn’t even known the man Teo once was. When he had met him, he was already struggling with his condition, to the point where he couldn’t even tell Minas what exactly had happened to him. Still, from the long talks they had had together, about things that had once mattered to Teo and now couldn’t bring him any more joy, he almost felt like he knew him. Loving husband and father who spent his free time tending their garden. Whose favourite game was chess, even though he rarely won. Who loved the stews his husband cooked, especially when he put a bit of mint in it.
And now this was all that was left of him, just a shell of the man he once was, a monster who only took joy from other people’s pain, a sadistic murderer, a shambling zombie who sometimes behaved more like a rabid dog than a human.
Minas pitied him. And wasn’t that messed up? Pitying the man who had murdered him in cold blood and then told him with a grin on his face that he was proud of it as well?
But the truth was, Minas couldn’t bring himself to hate him. Just like there was still a tiny piece of the old Teo left (at least that was what Minas kept telling himself), there was still a part of Minas that cared about Teo. That loved Teo. That was in love with Teo.
Minas chuckled, and then the chuckle turned into a sob, and he was crying again, and he couldn’t tell whether he was crying for himself or for Teo or for Dexter or for all of them, for everyone involved in this goddamn mess.
It had always been selfish. It had always been stupid. Falling in love with a married man he had promised to help through his struggles. Still being in love with him now, after everything he had done. If he was being honest, he hadn’t just sent Teo home out of a conviction that he was well enough to return to his family. A part of him had feared that he would do something stupid, something selfish, if he spent more time with Teo alone. And that had doomed Dexter.
Now Dexter was dead, gone forever, whatever Teo might tell himself in his delusions. And Minas was about to do something incredibly stupid and selfish.
Leaning forward, he reached for Teo, brushing sweaty blood-matted hair out of his face. He was aware of the Zweihänder in Teo’s hands, both the fact that if Teo woke up, he would have the perfect opportunity to kill Minas a second time like he had promised (and Minas doubted that he would be able to resist that opportunity, no matter what Dex told him), but also how easy it would be for Minas to guide the weapon in Teo’s hands to pierce his throat. Nobody would ever be the wiser. Just an accident, something that was bound to happen someday, as the missing fingers and self-inflicted scars attested. That little part of the old Teo, which Minas kept telling himself still existed somewhere inside the monster, might even be grateful for that. Then again, Teo might just wake up as soon as Minas laid a hand to the weapon, especially after everything he had done to retrieve it that day.
Still, Minas’ clawed hand halted for a moment in the air, hesitant and, he noticed with some shame, trembling. Then he laid it to Teo’s face, carefully, so as not to wake him. Minas cupped Teo’s face in his hands, his human hand and his wolf’s claw, and then he leaned over him and kissed him on the hair.
“I hate you”, he sobbed. “You bastard, I hate you so much. I wish I could save you.”
And then, because he was selfish and stupid, almost as selfish and stupid as the man he was kissing, he turned his head and placed a soft kiss on his lips. It tasted of blood and bad breath and death and tears, but that last one probably came from Minas.
Teo started moving in his sleep and Minas drew away at once. Teo was mumbling something, and Minas needed a second to comprehend the word.
“Dexter…”
Minas let out a dry laugh between sobs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, you fucking asshole.” He got up. It was probably better this way, if Teo never knew. “Just… just keep dreaming about murdering him or me or whatever sick things you dream of. Cut yourself open with that sword and bleed to death, for all I care.”
He went back to the angel’s sleeping place, laying down beside it and tried to catch some sleep before the sunless morning came.
He had heard that in the moments before your death you see your entire life pass before your eyes. Others had told him that that was nonsense, it was only the most important parts, the things that you valued most. But that was not true in his case. He should have been thinking of his family, then, his husband and daughter. Instead, as he turned to see the glint of a steel blade racing towards him, the last thought that shot through his brain seconds before it was splattered in bloody pieces across the battlegrounds, was: “I can dodge this.”
This isn't the first time you die but that's fine, it's not the first time I kill someone either
CN: violence, gore, death, very mild Gloom Marches spoilers, Teo is a horrible person as always
Marlowe belongs to @arocalyptic
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
“This'll be nice, this'll be neat
And bring you closer to me
So don't you squirm, don't you fret
I'm not gonna hurt you yet
I just feel the need to be getting
A little of you, a lot of blood-letting
I know the sensation you're probably dreading
But cutting you up will be so refreshing for me”
Blue Kid – The Dismemberment Song
The first thing Marlowe noticed when he woke up was the pain in his chest. Dull and pressing, reaching deep into his heart, and bringing with it a weird feeling of emptiness, so that at first, he couldn’t really tell if it was physical or emotional. Or something else.
He tried to remember what had happened, but everything was hazy, which was fine by him. Not remembering, not thinking, seemed like a good idea right now. But the haziness of his memories had brought his attention to the pain in his head, on the right temple, right under his horn, where the handle of the axe had hit him.
That’s right, he remembered now…
Marlowe remembered how he had woken up before, fully expecting to lie in his grave again. Instead, he was still in the same hall he had died in, Teo standing over him.
He remembered crawling over the floor, weak and exhausted as he was, over to the altar, now covered in blood. He remembered his trembling fingers desperately searching for a pulse on Minas’ arm, and, unable to find it, trying the same on his neck which had been sliced wide open with an axe blade. The memory made him nauseous.
That’s when he had started crying, which must have been why his eyes were stinging now. Maybe he had cried everything out. Maybe he was dead. Maybe this was hell. Not thinking really did seem like his best choice right now.
There was a voice.
Marlowe hadn’t noticed it at first, but now he did listen up. But it wasn’t talking to him. Half a conversation that didn’t even seem to take notice of him. Marlowe recognized the voice and he recognized the speech pattern. (And for a short moment, even though it was even hazier than the rest, he remembered hearing that voice calling to him while he was lost in the darkness…)
“You keep saying that. But what if I don’t want to wait any longer?”
There was a short pause, and then, the same voice: “You keep saying it will only get better if we wait but look where that got us. We wouldn’t be in this mess if we had just killed him during the night and then ran away.”
“You know why.” He sounded agitated.
“Yes, I used to think I didn’t want to remember. That it would be easier without. I used to think I would be better off forgetting. But not remembering – that was worse, so much worse. Looking at that man and knowing I want to kill him but not why. It’s like losing control. Like losing another part of my life – what’s left of it, anyways. That was worse than memories that hold no feeling.”
This time he was silent for longer before he answered. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it won’t bring them back. Maybe it will. We won’t know till we try it, huh?”
“Of course, it would be better if he was in full health. If he could fight back, that would be amazing. But this is how things are right now. And I can’t wait anymore. I haven’t wanted to kill someone this bad since – listen, I can’t stop thinking about how it will look when you slice open his ribcage, tear into his guts. Fuck, when he showed me that scar – the scar you got him – I just wanted to rip him apart right then and there. He was practically asking for it.”
A short pause.
“It’s a figure of speech, Dex.”
“I don’t know… I really, really don’t know. Probably not. I mean, I know it was a bad decision, but…”
“You’re right. You’re right. You’re always right, is that what you want to hear? But it’s not as if I had that much time to think it through. It’s not like I asked them to bring him back. I just – I panicked, okay? I just wanted to stop them from attacking him and then that asshole died on me, what was I supposed to do?”
“Maybe I did. Not that he really had a life anymore.”
“Maybe…”
“No!” It sounded like he was interrupting someone. “Don’t bring her into this!”
“Okay, you’re right, I ruined his life. So all the more reason to end it. Now.”
Teo looked up from the axe in his hands, over to Marlowe, who was still lying on the ground, eyes wide open, staring at him.
“He’s awake”, Teo informed Dex of the obvious as he got up. “No”, he said. “Fuck it, I’m doing it now.”
He walked over to Marlowe, looked down at him. “How are you feeling?”
The Tiefling didn’t answer, just stared at him.
Teo sat on Marlowe’s legs, hooking Dex around his neck, carefully, making sure the blade didn’t cut him yet. He started removing Marlowe’s battered armor, parts of it falling away on their own, then ripped away the bloody sweater beneath, revealing crimson red scar-covered skin. For a moment, Teo’s eyes were drawn to the big scar over Marlowe’s heart. It was beautiful and at the same time disgusted Teo in a way few things did these days. He forced his attention away from it and instead started tracing the scar on Marlowe’s shoulder with his fingers, the one he had shown him just a few days ago.
“You want to tell me more about how you got that?”, Teo asked.
Marlowe didn’t answer.
Teo sighed. “Guess, we’ll just have to create some new memories, huh?” He gripped Dex’ handle. Lifting him up just above his head, he took a swing at Marlowe, slashed right into his shoulder, hitting the scar with utmost precision. Marlowe whimpered in pain.
There was a brief flash of memory in front of Teo’s eyes. The first time he had inflicted that wound. A short glimpse of the confusion and fear in Marlowe’s face. The feeling of Dex in his hands, blood dripping from the blade. And then, just as quickly, it was gone. Just a few short images of that one moment, with no feeling attached. Like all the others.
Again, Teo lifted Dex up, higher this time, putting more brute force into the swing as he drove it even deeper into Marlowe’s shoulder. Bones were cracking, blood splattering around them and pooling under Marlowe’s body. Marlowe cried out, his face distorted in pain, but still he didn’t say anything.
Teo pulled Dex out of Marlowe, looked at the wound, horrifying and beautiful as it was. He laid one hand to Marlowe’s shoulder, gently traced the edges of the cut, then gripped inside, felt the fractured bone and the sliced flesh, clutched at it, as if he could somehow tear his lost memories from Marlowe’s blood and pain.
When he looked at Marlowe’s face again, he got nothing but a stoic look, teeth gritted against the pain.
“What, are you not going to fight back?”, Teo asked.
Marlowe didn’t answer or move.
“Where’s that fight you had in you?”, he asked, getting desperate. “You could barely stand up and you still punched me in the face.” He pointed at his split lip where Marlowe’s gauntlet had gotten him. “And now you’re just going to lie here and let me kill you?”
He got up, picked up Marlowe’s sword of the ground, threw it at him. Marlowe didn’t even attempt to catch it.
“Come on, I’ll even give you a free hit since you’re kinda at a disadvantage right now. I’ll even let you heal yourself up before we start.”
When Marlowe still didn’t react, Teo hooked Dex around his neck once more, pulling him upwards. “Come on, get up!” Marlowe simply let his head fall on the flat side of the axe head. Even as the edge of the blade bit into his neck, he didn’t stand up, didn’t resist, just let himself get dragged up into a half-standing position. Teo shifted the axe blade until Marlowe was forced to look at him.
“Don’t you want to kill me?”, Teo asked. “Don’t you hate me?” He started screaming: “I killed Minas! I am the reason you are in this mess!”
When Marlowe still didn’t respond, Teo pulled Dex away from under him. Marlowe didn’t even attempt to stay upright, slumping to the ground and laying there, unmoving.
Teo shifted his grip on Dex’ handle. “Fuck. I don’t know. Why are you – What am I doing?” He couldn’t tell anymore whether he was talking to Marlowe or Dex, if it really made a difference when neither…
“Fine!”, he shouted. “Have it your way. I’m going to enjoy this either way.”
He took a swing at Marlowe that opened him up from his chest to his hip. At least the screams broke his silence. At least the pain drove some of the blank resignation from his eyes. Teo knelt next to Marlowe, continued hacking and slashing at him, adrenaline rushing through his blood with every blow he dealt, every splatter of blood staining both of them, every scream echoing through the air, every tear streaming down Marlowe’s face. It made him tremble with excitement. Killing Marlowe made him feel as close to alive as he hadn’t in quite a while.
Still, through all of it, there was the fact gnawing at him that this didn’t feel nearly as good as it could have. As it should have.
When, finally, the screams died down, Teo looked from Marlowe’s body in front of him to Dex in his blood-stained hands.
“I know you told me so”, he said. “That it wouldn’t bring them back. I know.”
“I don’t know.” He stroked over the twin blades, let his fingers wander over the edge. “I don’t know.”
Minutes passed.
“At least it’s over now”, he told Dex. “He’s probably better off dead than being in whatever hellscape this is.”
“No, of course it was selfish. I’m not pretending I did that out of the goodness of my heart or – “
He gritted his teeth. “Why don’t you spare your judgement for someone who cares because I sure don’t. You know me. You know what kind of person I am. You have seen me kill dozens of people and I know you were never happy about that, but now you start judging me like this? Why is this different? Why am I…“ His voice trailed off.
He searched the pockets of his cloak, found an almost unbloodied piece of cloth, and started cleaning Dex. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted at you like this”, he said, sighing. “I really did mess up this time, huh?”
It was only then he noticed something strange. He was pretty sure he had severed Marlowe’s right arm, but now it was neatly attached to his body again. Teo looked closer and saw that Marlowe’s chest was moving, the scar pulsing like a heartbeat, only heavier and more violent.
“What the…”
Then he saw Marlowe’s eyelids flutter.
“No, no, no”, Teo mumbled, realization dawning on him.
Panicked, he leaned over the body that was supposed to be a corpse, plunging Dex into Marlowe’s chest, right into the scar. Blood came pooling out, more blood than Marlowe had any right to have left. It didn’t feel like cutting into a corpse. It felt good. It felt like killing someone. And then, without Teo being able to pinpoint when it had happened, the wound was closed again.
Teo cut Marlowe’s throat, and one second later wasn’t even sure he had done so because no wound ever showed.
“I never asked for this”, he shouted at Marlowe, as if he could simply convince him not to return. “I didn’t want…” Then another realization hit him, of what this meant. What it meant for himself.
So, when Marlowe’s eyes slowly fluttered open and he looked up in confusion, Teo’s smile was almost effortless.
“I guess we’ll be having a lot more fun here together.”
Recent selfies. I exist for the #aesthetic life
[1st pic is me with my new alien glitch shirt. 2nd and 3rd are date night fotos from Mary and the Witch’s Flower. 4th and 5th are outfit shots from hanging out with space pals. Last foto is of my monster girl themed Ita bag!]
