god I hate you [ open / death ]

[adomania]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"][ yeh I have ;; no muse for des anymore I'm afraid so I'm killing him off to further mercy's plan ]

There was no great ending for him.

He had once hoped that he would go... honorably. Perhaps saving someone, perhaps sacrificing himself to make sure someone more worthy would survive in his place. He had imagined it a lot, his death. It was almost normal at this point to assume that at any given moment he was romanticizing the idea, hoping for something greater to end his life...

He never wanted to be just another body. He figured that's what would happen, it was only right that he die in some ditch in the middle of nowhere without anyone even knowing his name enough to care for it. He had been alone in life, as he was in death, and the only thing that he could say was that he went down without any pitiful begging for mercy. Ironic, wasn't it? That the creature who had ended him was called that to begin with.

But the creature had seemed almost as sad as he was during that time. Des had done nothing more than lit a cigarette, stared death right in the eyes, and told them to make it quick.

They did. And, for the first time, Des felt nothing. The darkness took him, and his life was over, body settled carefully near the water of his hut, a makeshift grave made for him by a creature who was experienced enough to know a man who was suicidal.

They didn't want to continue his torture; he had done it enough to himself.

[GABRIEL]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]/rip my son

Gabe had found it difficult to apply honor to death. Perhaps to the events leading to it -his fellows who gave their lives for a cause they believed in had his eternal respect- but death itself was...how else should he describe it than an end, once and for all? Not everyone who went down stayed that way, but those who didn't come back might have lived heroically, might have affected a great many other lives, but when a candle burned itself out, was it the vacancy that was of most significance, or the light it offered beforehand? Gabriel would argue the latter, although he couldn't ignore that many, at their lowest points, would consider it an out regardless of other people's perceptions. His difficulty to find meaning in finality wouldn't affect that yearning, and through his time serving, he'd encountered a fair share of hollowed out souls who could see no other options. Gabe had done his best to offer solid ground and an anchor, but he hadn't always succeeded.

Maybe they'd sensed his own unfettering.

Surprisingly, though, he hadn't seen much of death among these clans. It seemed most people led somewhat less hazardous lifestyles, which was odd, but the hybrid found a sense of gratitude in it. He had seen too much death for one lifetime, and he knew he would see more, he had simply- well. He'd told himself not to get attached. Repeatedly. One day he might listen, just not anytime soon, so when he made his way over to Des' shack intending to share another drink, only to find his body, it became suddenly laborous to continue breathing.

The tightness didn't abate, and for a moment, before he managed to force his lungs to cooperate, spots danced across his vision. It took a while for them to disappear once air was flowing again, and longer for the hybrid to move to the makeshift grave, a deep heaviness in black eyes. "Lo siento, Des. Requiescat in pace."

Gabe had never taken to sorrow well, and so it receded back for anger to take its place, talons cutting deep into the ground.
[align=right][i]——INFO

[CAESAR CIPHER.]

ALL ALONE HE TURNS TO STONE !

CAESAR CIPHER. MALE. THE TYPHOON. OFFICER.

Death was something Caesar was used to. The demon was fascinated with death, mostly because he couldn't properly experience it himself. Being a demon meant he was able to possess bodies at will, and he couldn't 'die' in official terms. Unless his spirit was destroyed somehow, but the Officer definitely wasn't going to tell anybody how to do that, because he knew they would relish in the fact there was a possibility for him to be gone forever, unable to possess bodies and shapeshift.

Caesar came up beside Gabriel, curious as to what the other male was inspecting. He lowered his gaze to see the body of Desperado and his tail tip flicked, clearly showing no signs of sympathy or sadness regarding this Crewmate's death. It was normal to Caesar, something that was inevitable, even if he himself could avoid it. Mortals, he knew, could not. "A shame," The demon said in a flat tone, shrugging slightly. He didn't particularly know Desperado very well, as unfortunate as that was, but it was likely even if he did, he still probably wouldn't have been bothered by the guy's death.

#psychosocial.

[ADAKIAS]

[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; margin-top: -8px; padding-right: 8px; font-family: timesnewroman;"][size=8pt]Death was a concept that her youthful self had unfortunately already witnessed. Childhood should be a time where adolescents enrich their senses in positive experiences all the while growing into who they’re meant to become. And yet she had sped up the qualities of what it meant to be a child and had done more than witnessed death — in fact, her very own mind had been the origin of malice. The young Bengal had subconsciously taken the life of a living soul, her spirit dissociative during the ordeal yet present nonetheless. It had been a duckling that she killed, but that point held no significance to the festering guilt Sylvina immediately was overcome with. It had been then and there that she held the notion of what she had done; taken the possibilities and livlihood of a thriving creature simply because she couldn’t control her violent outbreak.

Death brought Sylvina emotions that she hadn’t exactly felt before. The most significant of the feelings being that of mourning. She mourned for the duckling and the memories it could have had, and yet she also mourned for her own self. The minnow so desperately desired that she could reverse time and stop her outlash before any bloodshed. The life the daughter of the captain had before her first kill had been one of carefree enjoyment at the world. But now? Sylvina experienced more than guilt — she felt fear.

Fear at what she was capable of. Fear of whether she could even control herself in contradiction to the awful moment where her body overtook her mind. Fear at if she would harm her own family. She was constantly paranoid. And so she would always be tense, always on high alert as if that would help any in stopping her violent outlashes. It had to help, she had nothing left to try.

Sylvina would pause besides Gabriel and her grandfather, olive eyes full of sorrow as she stared upon the deceased body of Desperado. She hadn’t really known him much except for a few encounters here and there, yet as a crewmate she couldn’t help but feel bad for the large canine. He had been wise and a great asset to the Typhoon — the Bengal couldn’t help but wonder what caused him to perish.

[adomania]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"][ just gonna track this with mercy // [member=1479]GABRIEL[/member] wheezes he might come back but when I have muse for him rn it's just,,, dead and gone feelsbad ]

[GABRIEL]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]//that's completely understandable don't worry about it! should be interesting later down the line when gabe may or may not commission mercy