//EXECUTION; WK2

[killerwaves]

Execution

Come Sunday morning, another announcement rings out through the island, though you probably have a better idea what it's about, and of the person speaking on the other end. According to your administrators, two sacrifices per week are required, and that time has come.

Unlike earlier, the kitty bots won't force anyone to go, but they will cheerfully inform all island goers that the execution is starting soon and they shouldn't miss out! The sandbar has also reappeared, a fitting enough stage for condemning a life as well as taking one. Both your administrators are present, along with two figures directly in the middle of the amphitheater.

(( OOC: Executions are voluntary except for the executed and executioner. The path back to the island will also remain for the entirety of the execution, so characters may leave whenever they wish as well.))

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[felame]

[ ... ah. who knows what part of all of that seems to crack the calm blaze that xiao had been portraying as she takes a step back. sonya running towards her, the talk of someone precious—

—no, that is what she wanted to hear most of all. the ones who will outlive him, who will come for her, or... well, who knows. but if sonya wishes for this very moment to be his end, she'll give it to him.

it's easier than she's done in the past, if only for how he seems to give into it. she's quick, and the way she pierces through his chest, through his heart, with her guandao is quicker, practiced, the flames around her bursting to life. ]

I will tell her, and meet whatever it is she deems fit to give me.

[ is all she offers, before she withdraws the weapon, leaving sonya to his fate. ]

... Goodbye, Sonya of the Yurodiviye. No one should die in a place so far from their convictions.

[ but he has, and she refuses to do the same. ]

[dysnowpian]

[ What would Rodya deem to give? He's gotten part of that answer recently, but he wants the full one. The thought that he might not hear it sparks briefly, just like Xiao's flames. But he buries it in the snow, in the ice that's wrapped his heart for as long as he can recall.

His blind faith is one of the reasons he walks, runs, the path he has. As quick as her guandao is, he still feels the fire, the flames and all of their heat. Even he can't suppress the primal shout that escapes his throat, but at least it's short-lived.

Just like many dreams are.

He crumples to the ground with all his thoughts and ideals, coming to stillness after. Sonya is dead. ]