[ The sudden notification that Set has read the message heralds a storm on the horizon.
It takes him some time, to locate Embry among the commune; time to reorient himself — sightless and marred as he is, time to soothe his husband and see to Koby and Jace's bodies. Time to realize who lived, who died and who remains.
Even though Set cannot see, Embry's dramatics are legendary enough that locating him by his other senses is not so tedious he grows bored of the process. ( He recalls them — no, no; he cannot recall what was false, cannot allow himself to slip into the familiarity of a friendship that had not really existed, not when he's trying now to learn who Embry Moore is. Who they can be to one another, if it is not "nothing". )
Like the ambush predator he is, he still manages to sweep from alongside a building — barefooted, muddy from toe to throat from all of his urgent shambling and stumbling — to begin to try and herd Embry into a corner, using his own strong body and steely determination. ]
Do you think that I EVER considered you would choose me? Do you think so highly of your opinion that it could ever affect me? When your Ash's continuation was on the line? When Greer is, now? I don't care about "me", I never lose!
[ His hands flex, like he wants to sprout claws and sink them into Embry's skin. ]
Who gives a shit! I'm glad you chose him. And right now, Greer is BOTH of ours. So. What are we doing next? What do you need, Embry Moore?
[ it was roza who made the hard choice in the end, shouldering the burden of choosing from the names of the well loved in the commune. no one asked embry to make a different choice, to even consider another, and that fills him with guilt. that he was lucky enough to have this gift when he needed it the most. that out of everyone more deserving, it somehow fell to him.
and roza chose set. set, who now accosts him outside of the row of cabins, hissing like a cat who has just been attacked and not doing the attacking himself. ]
Set.
[ startled out of his saw trap of anger, sweeping through his veins, melting his insides until he feels sick. he takes in set's words, tries to think of a way to respond, feels his grief closing in and has to stop himself from speaking at all. he takes a breath, the anger swarming back. ]
Everyone I think it could be is worse than the last. [ if it's jem, the fault lies squarely on him. if it's hawk — no. ] Eddie and Jem and Hawk are fighting in the hall about who's guilty. I know it has to be Jem. But there's just — there's something not right. Something isn't adding up.
[ he looks away, then back at set — filthy and manic, but alive. the joy he should feel is severed at the head by greer's absence, the horrific truth of her death. ]
You didn't consider it because you were fucking dead. [ flat. ] But I wanted to be able to bring you back. That's still true. I wish I could've done more.
[ Roza, who Set owes gratitude to — because without her, he could not be here to see the game through. But Embry, he owes more to. Embry did not even flinch, when asked by the war god to return his friend to him; he allowed himself to the feel the pain for Alina, over Paul. He allowed himself to feel it, and stuck with his first choice — which was more than others had, before he'd ever come to Saltburnt. Was that why he'd come to this realm? This horrifying realm that has allowed him to live lives he never should be able to, to experience joys and sorrows beyond measure, to connect to others in ways he was not designed by reality itself to?
He listens, despite looking a horror himself; mud has splattered up across his face, dotting the fullness of his mouth and the flutter of his eyelashes as he blinks, blinks again. Squinting against the grey skies as if trying to keep Embry in his marred vision. When he bares his teeth, they are still sharp ( sharp as any vampire's own ) and prominent, but he has been declawed by the game. He reaches for Embry's arms, for his wrists to draw him closer. Unafraid of his anger, or grief. ]
I never considered it. I was a necromancer, I knew I was at risk from the moment this game began. You hold no blame from me, Embry Moore. Had you chosen me over your partner, I would have killed you right here and now.
[ He spits the words, thumbs pushing into the jut of bone as if he'll break his wrists for saying what he has. For wanting to save Set. ]
If you want to pay penance, I will beat you bloody. I will put you on your knees and scour your soul clean. I will bleed you until you feel my will in the marrow of your bones, and your mind has burnt up in the madness I will bring you.
[ lock the fuck in embry!11 Set's mouth works, jaw tight and nose wrinkling. He looks uncomfortable, miserable. Like he doesn't want to say what he will, but has to; like he's obligated to, because it's Embry. ]
I have a name. I considered them in the first round and I kept my mouth shut because I had no interest in stopping them. They were not capable of killing my friend, but now — they may have killed Greer and I owe you for my friend's life. What do you want me to do with my claim? Name it.
Well, maybe don’t tell people you would kill me, because there’s a lot of finger-pointing going on right now.
[ the deluge of threats that come do nothing but make him stare, his anger reserved for the nightmare of greer’s death — not set. his touch grounds him, as if pulling him out of thoughts and back into the present, as if reminding him that he has allies despite how loathe he is to ask anyone for help. for greer, he can. she was the last person to ever have enemies, the last one anyone would ever want to hurt. whoever decided to hurt her? embry doesn’t yet know how he’ll react when he gets confirmation of her killer. ]
You were a necromancer? [ that startles him even more, realizing how strategically set has been playing the game — and how much it means that he’d stop to help embry. ] You died. So you’re not anymore?
[ a pang, at the possibility of being able to connect with greer for even one moment. he refocuses on set, taking in the tight lines of his jaw, the misery on his face. it’s not the face of someone who should be happy to be reunited with his loved ones. ]
If you think you have a lead on who killed Greer, I want it. [ his tone goes hard, his pulse jumping beneath set’s thumb where it rests against his wrist. ] I want to hear all of it. She’s… the way she fucking died, Set. I just need to know.
Like I care. What are they going to do, vote me out?
[ To be put in a cage, like the others? It happened last year, it would be par the course for him — Saltburnt's favorite jester, whom has brushed the light this year and will eventually slip back into ignominy once his "heroism" and "bravery" are revealed to be false. He's a wicked thing, in he end. Evil gods do not get to remain heroes in the eyes of good people, they're revealed for what they are. Miserable, envious things — and maybe, that is why he is drawn to Embry's own misery. He owes him, for Homelander. Balance must be struck, between them.
His fingers squeeze, a cage of flesh and bone as his expression tightens; the frown pulls deeper, his strong brow furrowing in a spasm of brief pain. An agony, somewhere between not wanting to say it and knowing he will need to. He nods his assent, at being named a necromancer — and at no longer being one. That power is gone from him, and he doesn't know where. ( Had he still held his divinity, he could still serve as liaison between Greer's spirit and Embry, though. It is not the first time he hates being so diminished. ) ]
I do not know if they hurt Greer, is the thing. I just — I did not name my suspicions aloud when they grew within me, because they were inconsequential to my pursuits. That may have resulted in her death. And — may cause you more pain, still.
[ Yet, he does not beg forgiveness, nor take his eyes from Embry's. Even as he says that his inaction, his avoidance, may have lead to what happened to her. Even as he offers a suspicion he never cared to entertain, but now must voice for consideration. ]
Sit with what I say for a moment, before I tell you any reason why. I want you to decide if want to entertain this suspicion, or if we forget I said anything and pursue another avenue for Greer. Ok?
he’s heard hawk’s name thrown out so many times today that it shouldn’t phase him. it’s a frame job his mind clings uselessly to. from jem, from eddie, from danny. from them, it’s easy to disregard to accusations as nothing but personal grudges. none of them care about greer, none except for hawk, tangentially. he’s lost his stomach for debate, for standing in a room and arguing about about who might have burned greer alive, even if it’s the nature of the game.
no one here can possibly know what greer was to him. is to him. ash may have met her first, but embry knew her first, from the moment their two broken hearts touched over the same impossible man, a chicago skyline glittering above her head while embry knelt on a glass floor between her knees. their hurts were the same. their need was the same. and for a man like embry, destined for loneliness and unmet need penned by his own hand, greer was the first light he could see along an unending path of darkness.
snatched away then, snatched away now. ]
Set. [ his voice has lost all its steadiness, his eyes glittering too brightly. ] You saying Hawk’s name to me is not the same as Jem saying it. As Danny saying it. You better be damn sure about what you’re saying.
[ expectation in his tone. he needs to hear it, even if it tears holes into his bitterly ragged heart. ]
[ Stiffly, he says: ] I did not want to say it, Embry.
[ Therein is the crux of the situation. Set is not a kind man, not one who would gladly help others capture wolves in his favorite game — not until his own were threatened, targeted and slaughtered. The game forced his hand into participation, and now he must leverage what he knows for the use of others. No, not what he knows: what he suspects, inelegant and hypothetical as it is. ]
It is suspicion, nothing more. Perhaps born of my own experiences, perhaps even I hold a grudge against him I want to exploit.
[ Which is an impossibility. If Set holds a grudge, he would not use the confines of his favorite game to enact vengeance, or right a wrong; he'd linger, plot, scheme, and eventually bring anguish beyond measure down upon the crown of an unsuspecting head. This is not a grudge, but neither is it something he presents without discomfort. Without the burden of uncertainty. ]
I do not have any proof he harmed Greer. Examine her lungs, to see if she asphyxiated in the fire. Examine what surrounds her remains for any other clues, especially below them — if she was placed on a pyre, her body may have sheltered anything left. If it points to him, it points to him. But do not let it tie you up, we must remain flexible. If it does not, it changes not why I suspected him. I will advise you on that much, to start.
[ A miserable sigh, and he deflates a little below Embry's unsteadiness. ]
I thought of him for Castiel, originally. He is a strong man, military-trained, no magic that I know of — which was pertinent information we uncovered. I remember he wrestled Shanks last November, and how he held his own. If he can throw around Shanks, he could have readily held Castiel down. I spoke to Timothy about the importance of Castiel's staging and — he was not known as an angel, but the staging was similar to that of Christ. Everyone thought it was a perversion of faith, or a mockery of it but... I think it was grief and anger. A loss of faith, he needed to act upon. We spoke after our false memories left us, and he said... "I don't believe in the same god most people do - I don't believe in one at all".
He could have been handy with a garrotte, to strangle any one of us. Even me.
[ It's a lot of information to throw at Embry, and Set speaks like a man possessed. ]
The only thing that I hesitate on is... I have personal experience with torture and murder at the hands of men who lost faith in me. I could be imposing that pain upon him, Embry. I only think it fair to inform you of my bias, and allow you to consider.
Ash and I are going to her house, to see if we can find evidence of a break-in. She didn't just walk herself to the pyre. Someone had to have taken her. And — [ his voice breaks. ] I hope to God they killed her before they set her on fire.
[ not greer. it's all he latches onto until his mind can parse through the evidence set brings forward. strong. the perversion of faith. the garrote. hawk, as silver-tongued of a politician as he is, moving his way through the accusations with ease. ]
Is there any other evidence? Because it could still be someone else. It could be me, Set. I go to Mass with Ash all the time. I'm military. Why are you so sure that Hawk killed Castiel that you'd come forward with all this?
[ a sick dread uncurls in his gut. there's no evidence he killed greer. but if it was to come out — what would ash do? his rigid beliefs in ash's goodness tell him they would put hawk's name forward and let the commune decide. but for greer? embry would wrap his hands around hawk's neck and wouldn't let go. ]
I care about Hawk. [ quiet. ] I don't want to hurt him. And this is... he wouldn't forgive me for this.
It could not be you, Embry. You have a role, and the two are incompatible. Get that out of your head, before you do more harm to Greer's future than good.
[ Set has never been kind, nor overtly sweet. He speaks briskly, seizes people with strong hands and holds no opinion back, no matter how cruel it is.
What evidence does he have? Other than watching Hawk's slow descent into absolute insanity — the decay of his mind, the urgency in which he slips in and out of conversations, throwing accusations. They are all evidence of someone unstable, but not a wolf. Not a killer. All the same, everyone without a verified role must be considered, and Hawk — Diamond, strong, normal — is his pick. If it's not him, some part of Set prays this drives him mad. Pushes him into that abyss of savage insanity, so that he may reap the consequences and results; after all, he is a god that drives men to madness, and is thought to revel in what becomes of them. ]
Name me as his second kill, then. My head was taken from my body cleanly, after I was strangled. My eyes were removed with obvious skill, it was said. Castiel and I are both strong, able-bodied men that were subdued by him and for him and we both relate to his loss of faith — Castiel as a mockery of a man who died for sins that Hawk still sees ingrained in the world, and me, a god. I am still trying to remember the details of my death, but — for now, I imagine a veteran and Butcher would have the skill to do that to me. His third... find the one you would perform with your own skills and mortal strength. You two are comparable, as veterans and wounded hearts.
[ He does not tell Embry he cannot guarantee that information; that he is pulling it out of his ass, to make something fit so it makes better sense to Embry. That even now, he is twisting within himself to transform a suspicion that may hold no water into a conviction he needs to see carried through. Something dark burns inside of him, and he has to walk himself back from the urgent need to punish a man who lost his faith. To get back at the men who hurt him, because of their own loss. ]
It is yours to decide what to do with. Pursue it or not. But, it was a strong Diamond who is attributed to Castiel, above all elsd. If he is a wolf and he is not captured... what do you think the outcome will be for his mind, at the end?
Then it's Tim. [ sorry tim. ] He's strong, he's military, and a crucifixion style kill would make more sense for someone in the front pew every Sunday.
[ because tim would forgive him. tim would want to be brought to justice if he was compelled to kill at night. tim would understand. his mind races forward for connections to skew this in his favor, for a slant that exonerates hawkins fuller, a man he trusts despite everything, a man who cares so much for him that he'd kill for him.
there is no loss of faith. hawk is as heathen as they come, unrepentant for who he is despite a generation of people telling him he was wrong. ash was the one who confessed to losing his faith after danny bled him out in the church, his well-loved bible going untouched for months, his prayers withheld from a god who wasn't there when he needed him the most. there's too much doubt, too many holes he intends to exploit when it comes to clearing hawk's name, except —
except for when set says that one word. diamond. his eyes travel up set's face, searching for deceit. hoping for a lie. ]
If it was August — [ the only other one it could be, when he goes down the list of diamonds. ] He'd have been beheaded his first night in the cage.
[ he doesn't know it for sure. but it seems damn likely, considering the pattern.
what do you think the outcome will be for his mind? ]
If it's a Diamond, then it's him. [ did he kill greer, too? ] It's Hawk. He's a wolf and he doesn't know it.
Hah! How I wish it were Timothy Laughlin! How I wish, I would love to grind his smug little face into the knowledge! I could have said him, you know — I could have easily tied this information up in a bow, withheld that we confirmed it to be a Diamond — and done away with him!
[ It's Set's turn to grow shrill, his voice snapping on the complicated loathing-respect that he holds for the aforementioned Tim; he'd prefer to name that man, who craves to be martyred and cannot protect or care for a temple of worship for the life of him.
If not a loss of faith, then a loathing of it. Set had seen Hawk's memories in the gallery. He'd seen the systematic hardening of his heart — the way he had looked upon institutions wealthy with perversion and hypocrisy, fine tuning their control and ability to carry on with their own desires while punishing others for the same. ( So many words, so much history — lavender scares and "don't ask, don't tell". ) ( Timothy telling him that his marriage to Shanks was invalid, because it would never be blessed by god. ) ]
I think we can conclude that Shauna's beheading, rather than August's, might just mean the wrong Diamond wolf went to the cage.
[ He sombers, the fullness of his mouth pursed and pouting. Hesitation and then: ]
— tell him I made you accuse him. Tell him... I wanted to hurt you, for not choosing me. For being delusional, thinking you would choose me over Ash or that I have something on you, to force you to voice my suspicions. I have a reputation. Might as well use it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ACTION.
It takes him some time, to locate Embry among the commune; time to reorient himself — sightless and marred as he is, time to soothe his husband and see to Koby and Jace's bodies. Time to realize who lived, who died and who remains.
Even though Set cannot see, Embry's dramatics are legendary enough that locating him by his other senses is not so tedious he grows bored of the process. ( He recalls them — no, no; he cannot recall what was false, cannot allow himself to slip into the familiarity of a friendship that had not really existed, not when he's trying now to learn who Embry Moore is. Who they can be to one another, if it is not "nothing". )
Like the ambush predator he is, he still manages to sweep from alongside a building — barefooted, muddy from toe to throat from all of his urgent shambling and stumbling — to begin to try and herd Embry into a corner, using his own strong body and steely determination. ]
Do you think that I EVER considered you would choose me? Do you think so highly of your opinion that it could ever affect me? When your Ash's continuation was on the line? When Greer is, now? I don't care about "me", I never lose!
[ His hands flex, like he wants to sprout claws and sink them into Embry's skin. ]
Who gives a shit! I'm glad you chose him. And right now, Greer is BOTH of ours. So. What are we doing next? What do you need, Embry Moore?
no subject
and roza chose set. set, who now accosts him outside of the row of cabins, hissing like a cat who has just been attacked and not doing the attacking himself. ]
Set.
[ startled out of his saw trap of anger, sweeping through his veins, melting his insides until he feels sick. he takes in set's words, tries to think of a way to respond, feels his grief closing in and has to stop himself from speaking at all. he takes a breath, the anger swarming back. ]
Everyone I think it could be is worse than the last. [ if it's jem, the fault lies squarely on him. if it's hawk — no. ] Eddie and Jem and Hawk are fighting in the hall about who's guilty. I know it has to be Jem. But there's just — there's something not right. Something isn't adding up.
[ he looks away, then back at set — filthy and manic, but alive. the joy he should feel is severed at the head by greer's absence, the horrific truth of her death. ]
You didn't consider it because you were fucking dead. [ flat. ] But I wanted to be able to bring you back. That's still true. I wish I could've done more.
no subject
He listens, despite looking a horror himself; mud has splattered up across his face, dotting the fullness of his mouth and the flutter of his eyelashes as he blinks, blinks again. Squinting against the grey skies as if trying to keep Embry in his marred vision. When he bares his teeth, they are still sharp ( sharp as any vampire's own ) and prominent, but he has been declawed by the game. He reaches for Embry's arms, for his wrists to draw him closer. Unafraid of his anger, or grief. ]
I never considered it. I was a necromancer, I knew I was at risk from the moment this game began. You hold no blame from me, Embry Moore. Had you chosen me over your partner, I would have killed you right here and now.
[ He spits the words, thumbs pushing into the jut of bone as if he'll break his wrists for saying what he has. For wanting to save Set. ]
If you want to pay penance, I will beat you bloody. I will put you on your knees and scour your soul clean. I will bleed you until you feel my will in the marrow of your bones, and your mind has burnt up in the madness I will bring you.
[ lock the fuck in embry!11 Set's mouth works, jaw tight and nose wrinkling. He looks uncomfortable, miserable. Like he doesn't want to say what he will, but has to; like he's obligated to, because it's Embry. ]
I have a name. I considered them in the first round and I kept my mouth shut because I had no interest in stopping them. They were not capable of killing my friend, but now — they may have killed Greer and I owe you for my friend's life. What do you want me to do with my claim? Name it.
no subject
[ the deluge of threats that come do nothing but make him stare, his anger reserved for the nightmare of greer’s death — not set. his touch grounds him, as if pulling him out of thoughts and back into the present, as if reminding him that he has allies despite how loathe he is to ask anyone for help. for greer, he can. she was the last person to ever have enemies, the last one anyone would ever want to hurt. whoever decided to hurt her? embry doesn’t yet know how he’ll react when he gets confirmation of her killer. ]
You were a necromancer? [ that startles him even more, realizing how strategically set has been playing the game — and how much it means that he’d stop to help embry. ] You died. So you’re not anymore?
[ a pang, at the possibility of being able to connect with greer for even one moment. he refocuses on set, taking in the tight lines of his jaw, the misery on his face. it’s not the face of someone who should be happy to be reunited with his loved ones. ]
If you think you have a lead on who killed Greer, I want it. [ his tone goes hard, his pulse jumping beneath set’s thumb where it rests against his wrist. ] I want to hear all of it. She’s… the way she fucking died, Set. I just need to know.
no subject
[ To be put in a cage, like the others? It happened last year, it would be par the course for him — Saltburnt's favorite jester, whom has brushed the light this year and will eventually slip back into ignominy once his "heroism" and "bravery" are revealed to be false. He's a wicked thing, in he end. Evil gods do not get to remain heroes in the eyes of good people, they're revealed for what they are. Miserable, envious things — and maybe, that is why he is drawn to Embry's own misery. He owes him, for Homelander. Balance must be struck, between them.
His fingers squeeze, a cage of flesh and bone as his expression tightens; the frown pulls deeper, his strong brow furrowing in a spasm of brief pain. An agony, somewhere between not wanting to say it and knowing he will need to. He nods his assent, at being named a necromancer — and at no longer being one. That power is gone from him, and he doesn't know where. ( Had he still held his divinity, he could still serve as liaison between Greer's spirit and Embry, though. It is not the first time he hates being so diminished. ) ]
I do not know if they hurt Greer, is the thing. I just — I did not name my suspicions aloud when they grew within me, because they were inconsequential to my pursuits. That may have resulted in her death. And — may cause you more pain, still.
[ Yet, he does not beg forgiveness, nor take his eyes from Embry's. Even as he says that his inaction, his avoidance, may have lead to what happened to her. Even as he offers a suspicion he never cared to entertain, but now must voice for consideration. ]
Sit with what I say for a moment, before I tell you any reason why. I want you to decide if want to entertain this suspicion, or if we forget I said anything and pursue another avenue for Greer. Ok?
[ With a heavy sigh, he admits: ] Hawkins Fuller.
no subject
he’s heard hawk’s name thrown out so many times today that it shouldn’t phase him. it’s a frame job his mind clings uselessly to. from jem, from eddie, from danny. from them, it’s easy to disregard to accusations as nothing but personal grudges. none of them care about greer, none except for hawk, tangentially. he’s lost his stomach for debate, for standing in a room and arguing about about who might have burned greer alive, even if it’s the nature of the game.
no one here can possibly know what greer was to him. is to him. ash may have met her first, but embry knew her first, from the moment their two broken hearts touched over the same impossible man, a chicago skyline glittering above her head while embry knelt on a glass floor between her knees. their hurts were the same. their need was the same. and for a man like embry, destined for loneliness and unmet need penned by his own hand, greer was the first light he could see along an unending path of darkness.
snatched away then, snatched away now. ]
Set. [ his voice has lost all its steadiness, his eyes glittering too brightly. ] You saying Hawk’s name to me is not the same as Jem saying it. As Danny saying it. You better be damn sure about what you’re saying.
[ expectation in his tone. he needs to hear it, even if it tears holes into his bitterly ragged heart. ]
no subject
[ Therein is the crux of the situation. Set is not a kind man, not one who would gladly help others capture wolves in his favorite game — not until his own were threatened, targeted and slaughtered. The game forced his hand into participation, and now he must leverage what he knows for the use of others. No, not what he knows: what he suspects, inelegant and hypothetical as it is. ]
It is suspicion, nothing more. Perhaps born of my own experiences, perhaps even I hold a grudge against him I want to exploit.
[ Which is an impossibility. If Set holds a grudge, he would not use the confines of his favorite game to enact vengeance, or right a wrong; he'd linger, plot, scheme, and eventually bring anguish beyond measure down upon the crown of an unsuspecting head. This is not a grudge, but neither is it something he presents without discomfort. Without the burden of uncertainty. ]
I do not have any proof he harmed Greer. Examine her lungs, to see if she asphyxiated in the fire. Examine what surrounds her remains for any other clues, especially below them — if she was placed on a pyre, her body may have sheltered anything left. If it points to him, it points to him. But do not let it tie you up, we must remain flexible. If it does not, it changes not why I suspected him. I will advise you on that much, to start.
[ A miserable sigh, and he deflates a little below Embry's unsteadiness. ]
I thought of him for Castiel, originally. He is a strong man, military-trained, no magic that I know of — which was pertinent information we uncovered. I remember he wrestled Shanks last November, and how he held his own. If he can throw around Shanks, he could have readily held Castiel down. I spoke to Timothy about the importance of Castiel's staging and — he was not known as an angel, but the staging was similar to that of Christ. Everyone thought it was a perversion of faith, or a mockery of it but... I think it was grief and anger. A loss of faith, he needed to act upon. We spoke after our false memories left us, and he said... "I don't believe in the same god most people do - I don't believe in one at all".
He could have been handy with a garrotte, to strangle any one of us. Even me.
[ It's a lot of information to throw at Embry, and Set speaks like a man possessed. ]
The only thing that I hesitate on is... I have personal experience with torture and murder at the hands of men who lost faith in me. I could be imposing that pain upon him, Embry. I only think it fair to inform you of my bias, and allow you to consider.
no subject
[ not greer. it's all he latches onto until his mind can parse through the evidence set brings forward. strong. the perversion of faith. the garrote. hawk, as silver-tongued of a politician as he is, moving his way through the accusations with ease. ]
Is there any other evidence? Because it could still be someone else. It could be me, Set. I go to Mass with Ash all the time. I'm military. Why are you so sure that Hawk killed Castiel that you'd come forward with all this?
[ a sick dread uncurls in his gut. there's no evidence he killed greer. but if it was to come out — what would ash do? his rigid beliefs in ash's goodness tell him they would put hawk's name forward and let the commune decide. but for greer? embry would wrap his hands around hawk's neck and wouldn't let go. ]
I care about Hawk. [ quiet. ] I don't want to hurt him. And this is... he wouldn't forgive me for this.
no subject
[ Set has never been kind, nor overtly sweet. He speaks briskly, seizes people with strong hands and holds no opinion back, no matter how cruel it is.
What evidence does he have? Other than watching Hawk's slow descent into absolute insanity — the decay of his mind, the urgency in which he slips in and out of conversations, throwing accusations. They are all evidence of someone unstable, but not a wolf. Not a killer. All the same, everyone without a verified role must be considered, and Hawk — Diamond, strong, normal — is his pick. If it's not him, some part of Set prays this drives him mad. Pushes him into that abyss of savage insanity, so that he may reap the consequences and results; after all, he is a god that drives men to madness, and is thought to revel in what becomes of them. ]
Name me as his second kill, then. My head was taken from my body cleanly, after I was strangled. My eyes were removed with obvious skill, it was said. Castiel and I are both strong, able-bodied men that were subdued by him and for him and we both relate to his loss of faith — Castiel as a mockery of a man who died for sins that Hawk still sees ingrained in the world, and me, a god. I am still trying to remember the details of my death, but — for now, I imagine a veteran and Butcher would have the skill to do that to me. His third... find the one you would perform with your own skills and mortal strength. You two are comparable, as veterans and wounded hearts.
[ He does not tell Embry he cannot guarantee that information; that he is pulling it out of his ass, to make something fit so it makes better sense to Embry. That even now, he is twisting within himself to transform a suspicion that may hold no water into a conviction he needs to see carried through. Something dark burns inside of him, and he has to walk himself back from the urgent need to punish a man who lost his faith. To get back at the men who hurt him, because of their own loss. ]
It is yours to decide what to do with. Pursue it or not. But, it was a strong Diamond who is attributed to Castiel, above all elsd. If he is a wolf and he is not captured... what do you think the outcome will be for his mind, at the end?
no subject
[ because tim would forgive him. tim would want to be brought to justice if he was compelled to kill at night. tim would understand. his mind races forward for connections to skew this in his favor, for a slant that exonerates hawkins fuller, a man he trusts despite everything, a man who cares so much for him that he'd kill for him.
there is no loss of faith. hawk is as heathen as they come, unrepentant for who he is despite a generation of people telling him he was wrong. ash was the one who confessed to losing his faith after danny bled him out in the church, his well-loved bible going untouched for months, his prayers withheld from a god who wasn't there when he needed him the most. there's too much doubt, too many holes he intends to exploit when it comes to clearing hawk's name, except —
except for when set says that one word. diamond. his eyes travel up set's face, searching for deceit. hoping for a lie. ]
If it was August — [ the only other one it could be, when he goes down the list of diamonds. ] He'd have been beheaded his first night in the cage.
[ he doesn't know it for sure. but it seems damn likely, considering the pattern.
what do you think the outcome will be for his mind? ]
If it's a Diamond, then it's him. [ did he kill greer, too? ] It's Hawk. He's a wolf and he doesn't know it.
no subject
[ It's Set's turn to grow shrill, his voice snapping on the complicated loathing-respect that he holds for the aforementioned Tim; he'd prefer to name that man, who craves to be martyred and cannot protect or care for a temple of worship for the life of him.
If not a loss of faith, then a loathing of it. Set had seen Hawk's memories in the gallery. He'd seen the systematic hardening of his heart — the way he had looked upon institutions wealthy with perversion and hypocrisy, fine tuning their control and ability to carry on with their own desires while punishing others for the same. ( So many words, so much history — lavender scares and "don't ask, don't tell". ) ( Timothy telling him that his marriage to Shanks was invalid, because it would never be blessed by god. ) ]
I think we can conclude that Shauna's beheading, rather than August's, might just mean the wrong Diamond wolf went to the cage.
[ He sombers, the fullness of his mouth pursed and pouting. Hesitation and then: ]
— tell him I made you accuse him. Tell him... I wanted to hurt you, for not choosing me. For being delusional, thinking you would choose me over Ash or that I have something on you, to force you to voice my suspicions. I have a reputation. Might as well use it.
Or... or I can say it.