Breaking Point

Benedicto

So, I've been posting the majority of my logs via logsty in the "Chronicles of Benedicto" thread, but I was so happy with the outcome of this particular log that I wanted it to have it's own thread. It ties in with a couple of different arcs, one being Bene's as seen heeere. The other being between Emelle and Ingram some of the aftermath of which can be seen here. I just want to say a massive thank you to @ingram. He was an amazing sport and he's such good fun to RP with.

There is no scene. It just begins as posted.

Ingram tells you, "Bene.. Benedicto.. Benedicto! Hey, you are about. How're you?"

You tell Ingram M. Tenor, "You have the nerve to speak to me in such a happy-go lucky tone? I know what you did to Emelle."

Ingram tells you, "So? You told someone to slaughter their unborn child. Who's innocent? How're you?"

You tell Ingram M. Tenor, "That is none of your damn business. I can't bel-...what is it that you want Ingram?"

Ingram tells you, "Company."

You tell Ingram M. Tenor, "..company."

Ingram tells you, "Yeah. Someone to share a drink with. I'm great to talk to! You'd have fun."

Ingram tells you, "We can discuss miscarriage poisons or something, if that'll incline you further."

You tell Ingram M. Tenor, "Fine. I'll meet you. But only because I'm curious as to what's prompted the invitation. Lonely? I doubt it very much."

Ingram tells you, "Everyone's a prisoner to it sooner or late, Benedicto! Where?"

You tell Ingram M. Tenor, "You pick."

Ingram tells you, "Ooh, all right. Meet meeee."

Ingram tells you, "In Delos."

You tell Ingram M. Tenor, "The Shining Trident?"

Ingram tells you, "Don't unicorns with me. Somewhere else. Just get here and step in line as I lead you to a magical, wonderful place of mystique."

You tell Ingram M. Tenor, "Wouldn't dream of it."

You tell Ingram M. Tenor, "Unicornsing with you, that is."

Ingram tells you, "No I got it."

On the Delosian Bridge - the Isle of Delos

Snowflakes float down around you, colouring the world white. A small wooden sign is here, several words having been carved upon its surface. Sporting a potbelly, Jhugyr, the Tsinkin mayor stands here. A glowing golden crown bound by chains sits atop a marble pedestal here, armaments scattered about its base. His apron stained with wax, Phillip Tallow, the candlemaker, is here. A black, murky mist has settled here. Ingram M. Tenor is here. He wields a needle-pointed dirk in his left hand and an iron-tipped whip in his right.

You see exits leading north (closed pine door), northeast, east, southeast, west, and in.

Ingram

He is a typical Human and an overall slim individual. Standing just over six feet, he poses a clean-cut and neat appearance. His countenance is paled, drawn with two calm, mahogany eyes that rest above a commonplace nose, and his narrowed face ends in a wide mouth with a long jaw. Combed neatly back and parted to the right, his medium-cut hair is almost meticulously cared for. His skin is absent of any tan, and he generally holds himself with a polite and proper demeanor. A half-severed ear on the left side of his head distracts from the general picture of his visage, and a deep, slender scar travels from the top of his hand to the palm. He walks with the blessing of Maghak. He walks in the favor of Maghak.

                         (worn on a finger) : the Aetolian bicentennial ring

        (Slipped over his left ring finger) : a polished gold wedding band

                         (worn on the back) : an elegant sable quiver

                    (slung over a shoulder) : a barbed bone darkbow

          (Sleeves rolled up to his elbows) : a stiff-collared, crisp white shirt

                          (Tailored to fit) : a pair of black tuxedo trousers

                                     (pack) : a sturdy pack with a silver clasp

                         (worn on the feet) : a pair of formal black shoes

                           (over the torso) : an elegant black blazer coat

       (Straight and snug under his collar) : a stark red necktie

                       (covering the torso) : a black waistcoat

                       (around both wrists) : a pair of gold sovereign cufflinks

Benedicto

He is a stalwart Yeleni and is clearly a creature born of the Maelstrom. His face is wan and stretched, water-like veins clearly visible beneath pale, thin blue skin. His broad features are characterized by sharp cheekbones and a square chin, a haggard, sunken set to his countenance emphasizing piercing pearl-white eyes. Thick tentacles of an off-white color form his hair, pulled back in a bedraggled tangle, while his body itself is covered in midnight-blue scales. Shifting to an electric blue under direct light, silvery lines cut through the plating, tracing out a massive network of scars across his entire body. The bones of his large wings are covered in the same dark scales that decorate the rest of his form, but when fully unfolded and stretched to their full span, the same translucent skin as that between his fingers can be seen. His body is well-muscled and toned, although a faint tremor seems to riddle his movements, giving him an uneasy, wavering sort of cadence to his steps.

            (worn loosely around his waist) : a slender, low-slung black weaponbelt

        (worn upon the wedding ring finger) : an entwined feathers and starstone wedding band

       (embedded in the flesh of his chest) : a coral-covered pendant

           (worn on his right index finger) : a phoenix signet ring

      (worn wrapped around his right bicep) : a black armband bearing the crest of the Sentaari

           (worn snuggly over his knuckles) : spiked knuckles

             (tied loosely about his waist) : a lustrous black and gold belt

                 (Covering his entire body) : a cascading Slyphian robe with a silver dolphin motif

 (Seen beneath the hem and gap of his robe) : rustic, fur-lined gray fullplate

Ingram swivels at the waist, hands pocketed, to peer at you with a quickly rising smile.

-Movement-

Ingram M. Tenor says, "Bum bum buuummmm."

-More Movement-

Ingram M. Tenor says, "Bummity bum de bum."

Ingram M. Tenor says, "Let's see if it still..."

A lofty, brass catwalk - the Monolith

In warm tones, a mural of a bedchamber is slathered across one of the walls. Ingram M. Tenor is here. He wields a needle-pointed dirk in his eft hand and an iron-tipped whip in his right.

You see a single exit leading down.

Ingram approaches a garish mural of a bedchamber, the painting parting like liquid around his fingers as he steps through.

You follow Ingram to the ether.

Throne - the Monolith 

This throne room is split into two halves. The eastern side is draped in gray cloth, corners filled with shadow, furniture minimal and purely functionary. Even the torches that hang on the massive columns tracing the edge of the center walkway seem to exist dimly. In contrast, the west is vibrant, filigree and color, bright and painted. Furniture stretches up and wide, adorned with leather and carvings. Tables are littered with books and paintings and literature. Everything is draped in a violet motif. To the northern wall, set in the stone floor as if landed like a meteor from the sky with crushed tile and ground around it, is a colossal throne. Its back climbs almost to the distant, vaulted ceiling and the left side is plush, purple, and bound in cushion. The opposite is flat, grey stone. A large war turtle stands here. Ingram M. Tenor is here. He wields a needle-pointed dirk in his left hand and an iron-tipped whip in his right.

You see a single exit leading out.

"Ta-da!" Ingram exclaims with his hands thrown and held up in the air, above his head. He spins on a heel to stare at you wide-eyed with a triumphant smile, as if displaying his accomplishment. His feet move him backwards towards the end of the room, nearer the throne.

You have emoted: Benedicto eyes Ingram with obvious suspicion from atop his war turtle. As you step through the painting, his gaze is drawn away from Ingram to stare, wide-eyed about the new location. "Where are we?" He asks, eventually turning back to Ingram, his expression one of mild curiosity.

With a swaying foot, Ingram's direction is shifted to the opposite, walking as normal again while letting his arms drop to smack against his sides. "Old gift from Omei," he calls back over his shoulder with a voice that echoes from the quiet walls. "It's mine, for the time being." His voice drops to a mutter as he says, "Until She wakes up."

Stopping at the throne, Ingram spins again and plops down on the stone and bleak side, reclining back.

You have emoted: "And She just....-gave- this to you?" Benedicto asks with an undertone of disbelief. His stare following Ingram as he reaches the throne. He slowly lowers the reins of his trusty steed and hikes one leg over the shell in preparation to slide down.

You have emoted: Benedicto slides gracefully from the back of a war turtle and lands easily upon the floor. He begins to move cautiously towards Ingram, his entire demeanor clearly signaling his suspicion of him.

Ingram shrugs faintly, dropping his elbow on the armrest and propping his head up with a fist under his chin. "Long and short of it. I imagine the gift will be eagerly rescinded eventually," he answers, eyes on you. He falls into a moment of stillness and quiet, not even blinking, before he snaps into animation again shortly after. Sitting upright, he flicks a hand about and says, "Can you guess what it represents? Kind of a metaphor painted with broad strokes. Really, nobody should be surprised I was going to abandon and leave." He pauses again and flicks his recently departed gaze back to you, and with a tone crafted from sincerity, he adds, "Although I wish I had done things different with Emelle. I've three regrets. Leaving Spinesreach, leaving the Syssin, and leaving Emelle."

Ingram M. Tenor says, "At least, the way I did."

You have emoted: "Is this a confession? An unburdening of your guilty soul?" Benedicto replies, his suspicion allayed somewhat as he absorbs Ingram's words. He looks from the vibrant, color-infused half of the room to the grim, grey, almost featureless one. "I can guess what it signifies. Someone who has two halves to them. So different and irreconcilable with each other that they essentially have to exist as two entities." He watches Ingram sidelong as he walks towards the brighter side of the room, his large strides crossing the distance easily.

"No, that was an explanation. I did what I did, and while I wish I did it different, I seek no.. forgiveness for it, no pat on the back saying it's all okay. Not from you, anyway, but don't think of that as a reflection on my opinion towards you," Ingram rambles out at break-neck with a faint smile. He hops up from the throne and jogs up to the relative middle of the room. "C'mere, you won't want to be standing there in a second. So how're you any Moirean?" he asks without a segue, eyes closing. His brow furrows a touch in focus and the room begins to...twitch. Torches flicker and dim, walls waver, tabletop items melt.

You have emoted: Benedicto halts mid-stride, his eye-scales raised in surprise, as the room begins to shift and dissolve. "Mm. Good advice." He mutters as he watches the almost nauseating dissolution of the room. He stands in silence, plainly ignoring Ingram's question until he answers with one of his own. "What business is it of yours?" He turns his head to glare at Ingram, his pearl-white gaze hinting at the barely restrained anger within.

"It's my curiosity," Ingram says, smiling distractedly. The shifting increases exponentially, distortion pacing up to an abrupt blink and the man opens his eyes with a flourish of his hands, mouth open as he hisses out an "Aaaah!"

The air grows thick with energy, pressing goosebumps through your skin. When it passes, things are not as they were before.

Stars - the Monolith

You stand upon a floating glass platform, transparent to the point of near-invisibility and flawlessly smooth as well as flat. Around it resides the endless expanse of the stars with pinpoints of light to highlight the explosions of multicolored cloud nebulas, provide framework for spinning galaxies of spiral and elliptical forms, and to dim in fear of growling suns painted a deep orange at the end of their time. In the distance a blue, colossal star is torn asunder as it is drawn off and pulled into a swirling vortex of black that consumes with immeasurable force, and what remains basks you and anything in the general vicinity with a rich blue tint. These sights are occasionally distracted from by the odd comet to sail brightly past in a speedy arc. In every direction is a backdrop of darkness painted with the natural beauty of infinite 

shapes and countless colors. The only aspect marring the immersion of this spot is a table seated in the center of the platform with chairs adorning either side. A large war turtle stands here. Ingram M. Tenor is here. He wields a needle-pointed dirk in his left hand and an iron-tipped whip in his right.

You see a single exit leading out.

You have emoted: "Dhar's Balls!" Benedicto exclaims, staggering back and looking down wide-eyed. He lifts his head and his eyes move anxiously around, taking in the wheeling of the stars overhead, the explosions of the colorful nebulas. Behind him, his war turtle chews absently on some unknown substance, completely unperturbed.

Ingram slips his hands in his pockets again with a faint, pleased bounce off his heels. He turns his head to glance over at you as a lopsided smile stretches his face, teeth scarring up the right side of his cheek.

You have emoted: Benedicto finally regains a shred of composure as he gapes at the sky overhead. "Impressive." He admits attempting to sound casual. "Did the Dreamer...sorry...the -Artist- come up with this for you?" He manages to draw his gaze away from the impressive sight above to look at Ingram's satisfied smile.

"Largely. I don't even know what half of this is.." Ingram murmurs in reply, brow arcing as he scans about. "Or if it really exists anywhere." He shrugs and moseys up to your side, head turning and craning to meet your gaze. "It's a little much. Want to see my favorite?"

Ingram murmurs to you, "The next one is all Ingram."

You have emoted: Benedicto moves to steady himself on the stone table, all suspicion forgotten to be replaced with evident excitement and curiosity. With a nod to Ingram, he grips the edge of the table tightly, readying himself for the next change.

Ingram claps his hands together before rapidly rubbing their surfaces against one another. "Okey-dokey, here we -go."

The air grows thick with energy, pressing goosebumps through your skin. When it passes, things are not as they were before.

Near a handsome statue - the Monolith

The stars twinkle in the clear night sky. You stand on a flawlessly flat and smooth floor of mirrored glass, seeming to extend infinitely into the distance. A cloud-dotted blue sky sits above to reflect from below your feet. Only one thing beyond your footing breaks the perception of floating in a planet without land, and that's the colossal statue not too far away. It towers to the height of fifty men and depicts, with expert precision detailed in its granite, the form and visage of Ingram Tenor. He stands with a fist planted on his hip, a gleefully approving squint in his eyes that gaze up above a grin, and an arm extended out to the sky with his fist in a thumbs-up. Carved over him is an impeccably fitted suit. Vest, tie, cufflinks and all. A large war turtle stands here. Ingram M. Tenor is here. He wields a needle-pointed dirk in his left hand and an iron-tipped whip in his right.

You see a single exit leading out.

Ingram's clapping resumes and continues draggingly, face flat as if reviewing a professional movement with professional appreciation.

You have emoted: Benedicto gives a hoarse cry of terror as the table dissolves and he pitches forward. He flails his arms helplessly, his visage twisted in pure, visceral fear. That is, until he hits the mirrored glass floor with a dull thump. He pushes himself upright rapidly, gawping at the infinite impression of sky. As he does so, he spots the statue in the distant. "Oh, come on now." He manages to croak, squinting his eyes at the colossal work. "Isn't that a bit much?"

"A perfect world, this has become," Ingram muses on the back of a sigh. He drops his hands back to his sides and rolls a shoulder forward before finally dragging his eyes from the statue in the distance. "Hey Benedicto?"

You have emoted: Looking away from the statue with a vague expression of distaste, Benedicto responds to Ingram with a slight "Mm?" of acknowledgement.

CONTINUED BELOW

Benedicto

"You and Tyrak have batted around my mind for the last century, but with significant differences in regard from me," Ingram says, shoes clacking twice with a dull echo across the 'floor' as he turns to face you directly. "Every trial, every unicorns-up, every strain bounced me back to those moments that shattered my illusion of guild and city, leaving me to depart raging and bitter. Aaaangsty." His levity drips from his face until it's almost blank, somewhat neutral. "Tyrak I can't ever forgive. That little snatch was a Syssin. Fortunately he's not anymore. You're undecided, because as of late, having returned? I've been blessed with something in this line of work I never really retained before, at least to my knowledge. Competence and efficiency! By leaving, experiencing what I did, and coming back all the wise-errr, I'm now able to flourish in this as I was ever meant or intending to."

Ingram M. Tenor says, "Anyways, I'm torn, because I have ten decades and -then- some of intentions for you-- And I don't know if they'd work or succeed-- but at the same..." Ingram shrugs a shoulder and his smile returns. ".. time, if it hadn't happened the way it did, who knows where I'd be or what I'd be doing."

You have emoted: Benedicto frowns at Ingram with an expression of incomprehension. "You're welcome?" He says with a look of puzzlement before he latches on to something that Ingram said that makes his befuddled frown take on more of a suspicious cast. "Intentions for me?" He repeats back to Ingram.

"I'm just glad you're back, so I can find out how I feel about all of it, and what I want to do about it," Ingram replies in something of an answer. "Especially being in a place I'm free to do that." His hand lifts up and extends to you. "We should get you back, you're a busy man. Grab on."

You have emoted: "What you want to do about it?" Benedicto almost mouths the words,they are so quiet as he murmurs them. He stares at Ingram, a plethora of expressions writhing and twitching their way across his features. Eventually he settles for a small shrug, his face going blank as he reaches out to take Ingram's hand.

Ingram shrugs. "I can't kill folks well. I can usually devise a way to -get- them killed, and even if I could devise a way to send someone to the mirror and smash it to pieces, I wouldn't. That's dumb." He glances to the statue, brow hiked a bit. "If someone dies, disappears, fades, turns into nothing, then they won't be suffering. I'd want them to live as long as they're capable until they get eroded into madness from agony." He looks back to you and shrugs again. "Sorry, I get vocally thoughtful in here. Thank you for spending time with me." His free hand smacks over your forearm and the picture melds away.

You follow Ingram to the out.

A lofty, brass catwalk

In warm tones, a mural of a bedchamber is slathered across one of the walls.

You see a single exit leading down.

Ingram steps sideways to simultaneously give you room to pass as well as lean on the catwalk railing.

You have emoted: Benedicto gives a vague nod. "That was suitably bamboozling."

You have emoted: Benedicto gives another nod, watching Ingram carefully. "I shall no doubt be seeing you then." He says by way of farewell.

-Movement back to Enorian - 

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-Later Bene is mulling over what occured with Ingram-

You have emoted: "That cheeky, nosy bastard." Benedicto mutters to himself, hands clenching and unclenching at his side. "How dare he involve himself. Taunt me with his involvement. My actions. He's lucky I didn't gut him then and there. I should have done for Emelle if not for myself."

You have emoted: Benedicto begins pacing, his anger clearly growing as the opening and closing of his hands begins to quicken. "I should have torn his tongue out for having him dare speak to me in such a way."

You have emoted: The barest scent of chakra blossoms wafts by Benedicto's nostrils and he freezes on the spot. He swallows with difficulty as he breathes the pleasant, almost sickly, perfume of the blooms. He twists his pack around to pull the cluster of flowers from within, holding them before his face almost reverantly. Plucking one from the bunch, he places the remainder back into his pack. The plucked flower is placed within the folds of his robes.

You have emoted: "My desires..." Benedicto barely murmurs, a cracked and twisted grin creasing his mouth. "Perhaps my conversation with Ingram is not over..." He turns towards the north, eyes glinting with dark pleasure.

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-Some time later-

Windswept balcony above Spinesreach - Spinesreach 

The stars twinkle in the clear night sky. A frozen iron bench is here. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Rolling all about the place here is a lightweight, hollow straw toy ball. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. A conscripted Spirean soldier coldly scans the area for threats. Ingram M. Tenor is here. He wields a needle-pointed dirk in his left hand and an iron-tipped whip in his right.

You see a single exit leading in.

Ingram is leaned back against the railing, arms extended out at either side for his hand to grip as far along the banister as they can reach. He hefts his head up at your entry and flashes a smile, lifting his eyebrows.

You have emoted: Benedicto gallops in atop his war turtle and quickly slides down from his seat upon it's shell. "I forgot to give you something before." He states, returning Ingram's smile as he steps towards him.

Remaining relatively still, Ingram cants his head to the right and squints at you, waiting.

You have emoted: Benedicto sheathes his weapons as he nears Ingram, nodding absently, his smile unwavering.

Ingram lifts a hand to jab a thumb over his shoulder. "Incidentally, Benedicto, this is the -very- balcony I had to convince Moirean to come off the edge of because youuuu triiiiied to kiiiiill her infaaaaant," he singsongs out to you.

Ingram M. Tenor smiles and says, "I'm a poopoohead, but at least I don't disembowel a woman by way of an abortion."

You have emoted: "Oh really?" Benedicto replies, his smile becoming somewhat frozen at Ingram's words. He suddenly draws one large, webbed fist back and launches himself towards Ingram. There is no time to react as his fist hits Ingram with the force of a small battering ram, punching him upon the scarred side of his face. He spits on the floor beside Ingram. "That is for Emelle." He declares with disgust, pausing for the merest moment.

You have emoted: *THUD* Another meaty blow follows the first. This one to Ingram's sternum. Benedicto steps back, wiping his mouth with his free hand. "That is for involving yourself in business that does not concern you." He snarls.

Ingram is left on his ass, backed into the ironwork of the railing, the impact not only bowing it around his body, but leaving him hacking harshly. Blood spurts out of his mouth with a few coughs, coating over his chin, his breathing difficult from what is most likely a shattered bone in the square center of his chest. He lurches to the side and cranes his head, a few more heaves, more blood. The floor below his face is blotched with red.His composure is meagerly regained for a moment, enough for Ingram to drag his head up. Between coughs, and after wiping a sleeve back across his mouth to pull off -some- of the blood, he turns his head to glance up at you. He takes a few, carefully deep breaths before he says, voice raspy and a bit choked, "B-bendicto?"

You have emoted: Benedicto watches Ingram closely for a moment, a faint and disconcerting grin of pleasure twisting his lips. Pearl-white eyes aglow with enjoyment at Ingram's prostrate form. He takes one knee beside Ingram, cupping Ingram's chin in one hand. "Shhh shhhh." He whispers to Ingram, stroking his brow with his free hand. "Quiet now." His grip upon Ingram's chin tightens, his index finger and thumb crushing his cheeks together forcefully. "Now then, we're going to stay out of any business that involves Moirean, or Benedicto, or anything that is even remotely -UNICORNSING- linked to them." He bellows the curse word into Ingram's face. "Aren't we?" He finishes sweetly.

You have emoted: Benedicto stares deeply into Ingram's eyes. At closer inspection his eyeballs twitch and jiggle erratically in their sockets, and as he leans in close to whisper to Ingram, the faintest scent of Chakra blossoms reaches Ingram's nostrils.

You murmur to Ingram, "Arreeeen't we?"

Ingram's face flutters a bit at the shout, both sound and spittle. His mouth, now forcibly pursed into something fish-like, opens and closes a few times. No humor or chipper taunting enters his tone when he says, although comically considering the sound of his voice with your fingers in his cheeks, "Aie canntuh waait to fwind oot the namessh of yoir loved oneshh." He stares at you back, chest heaving, form a bit shaky, eyes widened.

The backs of your fingers warm with a thick, seeping swarm of his blood pouring over from out of his mouth.

You have emoted: Taking a deep breath, his lips forming a straight line, Benedicto closes his eyes, the answer clearly prompting him to further anger. He eventually exhales in a long, drawn out sigh, his eyes fluttering open to reveal malignant pleasure as he pierces Ingram with his gaze. "Oh Ingram. Iny, Ingy, Ingram." He mimicks Ingram's singsong tone. "I don't have any loved ones, my dear, dear fellow. I gave them all up for my Lord." He reaches behind his back and draws out a sacrificial dagger, raising the sharpened blade in front of Ingram's eyes. "I will not trade tit for tat with you. No. I know that you are a cold-hearted man. However, there is one thing I know that every man prizes..." He trails off, the dagger lowering to prick at Ingram's crotch. "How does becoming a eunuch strike you, my -dear- fellow?"

Ingram's hand shoves off the floor, hefting his form up enough that he can slap it around the back of your neck, partway for support and partway to pull you closer. He comes close enough to you that his forehead presses to yours, and you can feel his heart trying to haymaker his ribs, the shake in his breath. "Benedicto, to pretend you don't care about people is stupid. You're -here-. All uppity over Moirean, Emelle, and I would imagine my daughter Klara falls into that list. How far I travel along it does depend on how many inches swing between my legs," he says, voice transferring to a light, hoarse wheeze.

You have emoted: Whatever amusement, false or otherwise, that was upon the features of Benedicto, quickly evaporates at Ingram's murmured words. "And you?" He breathes in response. "You would sacrifice your own child and it's mother just to spite me?" A twisted grin crosses his mouth, an insane amusement lights his pearl-white stare. "Perhaps, we are not so different, you and I?" The blade of the dagger slices a neat hole into the material of Ingram's trousers, the point firmly pressed against Ingram's scrotum. "The meat or the veg, Ingram, which would you prefer?"

A sudden wince overtakes Ingram, his face clenching and head dropping as he draws his hand to his chest where your fist impacted. He takes a shaky, choky breath that lifts his back, falling with the sputtering exhale. It's during this, hunched over as he is, that the lifted hand slips into his wrinkled and up-ridden vest. With a final, seemingly regaining breath, he draws it back out in a flash, a makeshift blade in tow, mustering the speed and quickness he's able with an aim to carve it up your face and through your eye.

You have emoted: Benedicto does not react quickly enough to escape the sudden cut of the blade. A swift jerk of his head to the side means that he dodges the majority of the blades path, but catch him it does, as Ingram slices towards the left side of his face. A sudden spurt of blood decorates Ingram as the blade catches the hollow of Benedicto's cheek and cuts swiftly upwards towards his eye. He falls away from Ingram in an attempt to protect himself, crying out in anger. The pressure upon Ingram's crotch is relieved as he falls, the dagger still clutched in his fist. He is quick to recover however, and he is suddenly lunging back towards Ingram, a neat cut decorating from mid-way up his cheek to just above his left eye-scale.

You have emoted: "You -unicornsing- --" Benedicto casts his own weapon aside as he grips Ingram's blade hand, kneeing Ingram in the face in his hurry to smash it against the iron railings.

Ingram reacted in what will probably be a regrettable decision, having made no move to dodge or weave. Instead, he opens his mouth, baring his fangs, tilting his head to aim them at the upper-cutting limb with two beads of epteth glinting from them. Whether or not they hit or penetrate, his head sails back with his body. He's sent into the railing, force and weight rupturing through the iron-cast representation of a Syssin, and how far he travels through depends on your hold.

You have emoted: Benedicto retains a firm grip on Ingram's wrist, his hold the only thing preventing Ingram from taking a sudden plunge to the paving below. "Too let go, or to not let go?" He sneers at Ingram, a sheet of red from Ingram's cut covering his face in a crimson half-mask. His pearl-white eye is even more disconcerting in that bloodied setting, twitching and dancing in a frenzy of delight as he weighs Ingram's predicament. "It looks like you may escape with balls intact, if not your immediate life, Ingram."

Ingram's coat flutters from the upwards gust of wind, tie a bit scrunched up above his vest and uncentered, the white of his shirt marred with blood. His hair has spilled across his forehead with a few strands speared in against his sweaty brow. He heaves and pants through a blood-soaked, leaking face while the rest of his body hangs out and off the balcony, arm dangling and side to you. "Ahhh fuck, Benedicto," he chokes out in a shout, battling the howling winds. "You've got me speechless, nearabouts." He snorts sharply, a splattering of chunky blood spraying over his chest, stringing from his nose. "You might be worse than I am!"

You have emoted: "You cannot even begin to comprehend." Comes the malicious, shouted response as Benedicto takes a step towards the edge, leaning Ingram further out into the howling, hungry Northern wind. He begins to laugh. It is a maniacal, unhinged laugh, riddled with insanity and with undertones of self-loathing. With his free hand he reaches into his robe and from within, he pulls a single Chakra flower. His cackle continues, though his stare is locked on the bloom, his expression becoming more pained by the moment.

You begin to wield a pristine cluster of chakra blossoms <---coz I can't wield just one flower from the bunch

You have emoted: Abruptly, Benedicto begins to shake his head, as if denying the flower. His laughter becomes more strained and forced, as the 

veins on his neck stand out like cords. The laughter ceases suddenly as, with a snarl, he snatches Ingram from his precarious position and immediately swings a vicious, rage-infused uppercut into Ingram's already damaged sternum, forcing him to double up. This is swiftly followed by a knee to Ingram's face, knocking him to the ground. From thereon out, it becomes a frenzy of blows. Fists, feet and even his forehead are used to beat Ingram bloody and senseless.

You cease wielding a pristine cluster of chakra blossoms in your right hand.

For a time, Ingram manages to huddle up, even in the midst of his inability to breathe from your beginning blow in round three. His elbows touch to his knees and for a time gives a decent reprieve from the full force of your assault. Then a slam to his forehead knocks the back of his skull to the balcony floor and he goes limp. Blood profusely drains out of his face, already framing his head in red on the balcony's surface, eyes rolling up and closing. He largely jerks and shifts across the ground from the momentum passed by you to him.

You have emoted: After a while, Benedicto begins to tire, blood is spattered upon his robes, his face. Some his own, some Ingram's. He sits back upon his haunches, staring wide-eyed and pleased at Ingram's prone form, his gaze traveling lovingly over the damage done by his blows.

You have emoted: Abruptly, something snaps within Benedicto and his face suddenly falls. "No...no, no, no, no." He whimpers, quickly leaning forward to pluck ineffectually at Ingram's clothing. He turns to the side and falls to all fours, vomiting onto the floor. Dry sobs wrack his frame as he retches, his pearl-white eyes staring in horror at his bruised, swollen and bloodied hands.

Ingram spasms and sputters, form minutely jerking. His head lulls left to right, swollen and split, an odd tooth or two beside his face in the pool of blood. A hand slides from his stomach, grazing over a torn button of his vest to send it clattering to the ground. The hand smacks wetly on red and he dips back into stillness.

You have emoted: Benedicto twists his head to look at Ingram with an expression of nausea and horror. He quickly scrabbles to his feet, seizing his previously fallen dagger as he does so, before sprinting to his war turtle. "I've got to get away from here. What has She done to me?! What am I becoming?!" He gibbers to himself as he leaps onto the shell of his mount and quickly steers it away towards the Northern gate.

-Runs away-

Xenia

This was such an amazing read. 

Ishin

So THAT'S how Ingram got himself fucked up

Ingram

Yeaaaah

Toz

Awesome log, but I'm beyond cracking up at the mental image of someone hopping onto a war turtle to 'make a fast getaway'. Rider leaned forward as if into the wind, inching along at a snail's pace, spurs digging into the sides of the shell, riding crop swatting against the thing's back as he chants 'HYAH, HYAH, HYAH' over and over again.

Benedicto

Toz said:

Awesome log, but I'm beyond cracking up at the mental image of someone hopping onto a war turtle to 'make a fast getaway'. Rider leaned forward as if into the wind, inching along at a snail's pace, spurs digging into the sides of the shell, riding crop swatting against the thing's back as he chants 'HYAH, HYAH, HYAH' over and over again.

Hey man, it is not just a turtle. It's a war turtle. Bred for speed, toughness and strength. It can gallop away at OVER 9000mph.

Solaria

Hey! There have been some fast snails out there! (Since he said it'd be going at a snail's pace, and I tried posting before Bene replied)

Xavin

Benedicto said:

Toz said:

Awesome log, but I'm beyond cracking up at the mental image of someone hopping onto a war turtle to 'make a fast getaway'. Rider leaned forward as if into the wind, inching along at a snail's pace, spurs digging into the sides of the shell, riding crop swatting against the thing's back as he chants 'HYAH, HYAH, HYAH' over and over again.

Hey man, it is not just a turtle. It's a war turtle. Bred for speed, toughness and strength. It can gallop away at OVER 9000mph.

You can make it faster by painting racing stripes and lightning bolts on its shell.

Moirean

Very nice read. I like how Aetolian men try to play the big-bad protectors, and end up going all sorts of nutty. I'm really enjoying all these plots and stories and how they all intertwine.

Benedicto

It's been a long time since the above happened and I just thought I'd post this little snippet that is the first interaction Bene has had with @Ingram since the above RP log (I love him so much).

The Broken Tower Tavern.
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---------- 25:-4:0 ----------
An incineration alcove has been set into the wall here, blazing with obliterating heat. Darxa, the
Orc bartender is at work serving patrons. There are 2 Orc youths here. There are 2 Daru firebrands
here. A scarred pine dartboard hangs on the wall here, battered from long use. There are 2 Ascendril
mages here. There are 15 shrouded Kingbound soldiers here. A sigil in the shape of a small,
rectangular monolith is on the ground. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. Ingram
is plopped into a chair here, shoes kicked up onto the tabletop before him and crossed at the ankles.
He wields a buckler in his left hand and a solid obsidian tankard in his right. You see a sign here
instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale.
You see a single exit leading west (open pine curtain).

Ingram flings his arms up, pointing to the ceiling, and exclaims with a broad beaming happy grin,
"BENE!"

Ingram says, "As stalwart and bold and handsome as ever."

You have emoted: "Don't start with the insincere flattery Ingram." Benedicto declares as he stands
opposite Ingram, the table where Ingram's feet rest between them. "You seem to have made yourself
right at home."
Balance Used: 0.93 seconds

"As much as any pub in th-- Insincere?" Ingram says, voice shifting from a drawling explanation to a
sharp question. His brow is dipped in a hard line and he swivels to drag his heels from the tabletop
so he can plant them on the ground and lean forward over the surface before him, finger pointed at
you. "I can wholly understand where a situation like this would have the man in -my- role being a
sarcastic, disingenuous dick, but no... no-no-no-no this is anything but, and I need to be perfectly
clear in that I am being -very- sincere, Bene." He straightens up, face as serious as his tone,
which is completely without waver. "I've missed you."

You have emoted: Benedicto folds his arms tightly across his chest as he listens, his own brow
furrowed disapprovingly. "Why are you being so upbeat? So jovial?" He uncrosses his arms as he leans
towards Ingram, his fists placed atop the table. "The last time we exchanged words this-" He runs a
finger along the neat scar that decorates his left cheek. "-happened. Why would you be so glad to
see me?"
Balance Used: 0.93 seconds

(Tells): Zaila tells you, "I must have just had your weirdass mug on my mind when I sent it or some
unicorns."

(Tells): You tell Zaila, "Clearly you had me on the brain. No, I won't forward it. Mostly because I
fed the bottle and it's contents to the nearest humgii."

(Tells): Zaila tells you, "Well /that/ was rude. What if it was a gift to you? To rub down Couldamom.
Dad tells me that'd what she's in to. You should have given it a shot."

That was a bad time for me. I should not be--

Ingram sits back in his chair with an idle creak from the weary thing, his hands folding in his lap.
"What did you think I wanted? .. Well." He clears his throat and shifts to the side with a scoot of
his ass backwards a bit before straightening again. "Didn't necessarily want preCISEly what I got,
but the core of it was there. Now, details have grown a bit hazy with time, and as fond of that
little marring your face got, I'm much more amorous about the reaction. I think where you got during
our balcony bonding was where I wanted you to be. Again, with some refinement, like me being
relatively unharmed, but alas."

(Tells): You tell Zaila, "Hah. Nice try, but I've been at the receiving end of sharper and more
intelligent ripostes than that."

(Tells): Zaila tells you, "Ooh, look who grabbed a thesaurus. I am so proud."

You have emoted: Benedicto scoffs at Ingram's words. "Where you wanted me to be? I assume you're
referring to mentally?" A faint smirk creases the corner of his lips. He shoves himself upright
causing the table to groan and crosses his arms once more. "I don't mean to burst your bubble Ingram,
but you had very little to do with my actions that day. Your words were a catalyst for something
else." His face clouds with the memory. "That is all."
Balance Used: 0.93 seconds

(Tells): You tell Zaila, "Again, you use a club where a slender blade would work much more effectively.
You can't even begin to know the chinks in my armor girl. Come back when you've learned a thing or
two."

Ingram rolls his eyes with a stupid grin before swatting both his hands in your direction. "'That is
all'. You make it sound so trivial. All that raw, exploding emotion! All that ferocity and anger and
violence! At the time, I'll confess, I was in agony and wanted it to stop. Now I just feel proud
that I was there to, granted, be the measly straaaaw for the camel's back.. but also to take the
brunt of that emotion. It was a unique experience that I think has linked us in a special way," he
murmurs out, dropping his chin on his palm.

(Tells): Zaila tells you, "Trying to give me tips on how best to needle you? You Southerners are so
generous. Should I come over so you can give me a hands-on demonstration?"

(Tells): You tell Zaila, "I'd prefer it if you kept your hands and anything else attached to them a
good distance away from me."

You have emoted: Benedicto seems to mull this over as there is no response at first. His expression
is almost thoughtful as he eventually states, "You may be right. It was a 'unique' experience and
for some reason, I do linked to you somewhat." The frown returns. "Though don't go getting any funny
ideas that we're an item now. Your daughter mentioned that she wasn't overly sure you didn't enjoy
the occasional sausage."
Balance Used: 0.93 seconds

Ingram stares at you rather flatly, neutral. He does say, simply, "I do enjoy unicorns from time to time.
Well, did. Alas, I'm actually committed to this marriage."

Slowly drawing a hand down from his forehead, Ingram silently lips out as he stares almost
unblinkingly at you, "Mind, body, heart."

You have emoted: Bemusedly, Benedicto stares at Ingram before he clicks his tongue against the roof
of his mouth. "I am being hounded to attend some form of ridiculous meeting. I wish to carry on this
conversation." He ponders this for a moment. "Not about you taking unicorns, but just about what you're
doing here. Whatever this-" He waves his hands back and forth at the two of you "-is."
Balance Used: 0.93 seconds

Ingram's lips split to slash his face with teeth as he beams at you. "I look forward to it. I've
missed you and this was but a taaaaaaaste, -Bene-."

You have emoted: It is hard to decipher the expression on Benedicto's face as he gives a faint nod
of farewell. He silently moves away from the table and towards the exit.
Balance Used: 0.93 seconds

Also 's to @Zaila for being almost like a sidekick to her dad, however accidental it might be. Loving our interactions.

Zaila

Hahahaha, I totally had no idea he was RPing with you at the time, that's great. Also, you missed the market tell that was just for you!

(Market): You say, "Looking for a taxidermist. Must be able to stuff hands without making them look fat."

(I am loving the interactions, too)

Benedicto

Zaila said:

Hahahaha, I totally had no idea he was RPing with you at the time, that's great. Also, you missed the market tell that was just for you!

(Market): You say, "Looking for a taxidermist. Must be able to stuff hands without making them look fat."

(I am loving the interactions, too)

Haha I did miss that! That's hilarious.