¥Merciful Acceptance¥ {A character RP}
Aug 13, 2017 17:04:32 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, ForeverKuroi, and 1 more like this
Post by ¥Ezriel¥ on Aug 13, 2017 17:04:32 GMT -5
{Born without desire. That was my affliction from day one. I had no sense of want, no hunger or drive. I was a husk of a human being, always seen but never acknowledged. Invisible to the world. I didn’t used to mind that. I was told what to do all my life. Family, strangers, didn’t matter where it came from. I was always ground underfoot and quashed by the heel of those around me, and I would smile and nod. But being fed shit for so long tends to leave a bad taste in the mouth. Sooner or later you get sick of it and something has to give. I need to take my life back and control my destiny. I am destined for greatness, for wonderful things, regardless what they all say. However I am bound to him and him to me. I must obey one last time. Give myself completely in order to experience control.}
“Now you will give to me what is owed. It is time young man. I sincerely hope you are more mentally prepared than you are physically. Your body will be the next step. Something bothers me however. I sense a great fear in you and I am curious… where does it stem from? Tell me… why are you afraid? Do you… fear me? Or is it perhaps you? Do you fear yourself?”
We fade in from a blank black screen to a palely blue lit space. As we look around we can tell that it is a lock up garage of some kind, almost a small warehouse in it’s size. Empty crate palettes are stacked in one of the corners and the edges of the room are framed with bracketed steel shelves. The floor is covered in streaks of different colors of paint and in one of the corners there is a questionable liquid that looks like a grotesque mixture of several body fluids. Beside this pool, slumped up against one of the steel shelves is a dishevelled scruffy looking man, bare chested and breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his brow. The one we have come to recognise as Ezriel. He rubs his eyes aggressively and then plants his right hand to the floor, pushing himself up onto one knee. He grunts and winces in discomfort.
¥ “Why should I fear myself? Why should I fear you? All I have now is myself. You abandoned me, don’t you remember? You left me to vegetate in that place, on that bed. I was alone, useless, trapped and you left me. I had to do this all by myself. I don’t fear you and I don’t owe you anything, you understand me?” ¥
Maniacal laughter fills the room followed by slow mocking tutting.
“You see foolish boy, that is where you are most assuredly wrong. You owe me more than you can ever know and more than you can ever repay. You owe me your gratitude… your life…”
The voice almost hisses like a serpent.
“Your soul.”
The camera keeps focused on Ezriel as the last two words linger in the room. He murmurs in pain and begins to heave a little.
¥ “Urghhh… hhhhhhyuuuurrghhhh…. ¥
Ezriel lurches forward gripping his stomach as he projectile vomits straight down into the pool of liquid beside him. A black tarry substance ensues from his throat and pours out his mouth. This lasts fifteen seconds or so, an uncomfortably long amount of time for such a gratuitous sight. He finally stops and gasps for breath, spitting the taste and residue from his mouth as bullets of cold sweat form on his forehead. He gulps in air and groans as he slams himself back into the shelves. He tightens his muscles and his hands begin to white knuckle as he bites down on his lower teeth, jaw clenched. He looks questionably upwards towards the ceiling and exclaims loudly through distorted painful grunts.
¥ “You’re the only one mistaken here… I… urghhhh…. I ain’t giving you shit. Mmmmuurrrghhh… what the hell is wrong with me?! What are you doing to me you son of a bitch?! Urrrghhhhh…” ¥
Ezriel gags again and stomps his feet on the ground as the wincing and pain filled moaning continues. Suddenly we hear a large metallic slam from behind us. It rings out as a voice sharply follows, low growling and full of venom.
“THAT’S ENOUGH!”
The command echoes round the high ceilings and vast open empty space. It subsides into deathly silence as Ezriel looks intently ahead of him, breathing heavily. We hear heavy footsteps very slowly striding ever nearer as Ezriel appears to look more and more uncomfortable. He squints his eyes again and then stops, mouth agog. They widen as a look of utter confusion and complete horror fills his face. He shakes his head and raises one hand up in a stopping motion. It seems as though he is trying to speak and or scream out but the noise is caught in his throat eventually emitting as a cracked whisper. He presses himself further back as the footsteps get closer still and eventually come to a stop. We notice there is a small rectangular mirror perched on the shelf beside Ezriel’s head. We can’t quite see the figure to whom the footsteps belong although we can see a long brown trench coat rolled up to reveal the owners forearms. A little laugh arises upon Ezriel’s change of expression. The figure turns his arms over to reveal a long set of track needle marks running down from elbow to wrist. Ezriel shakes his head again as small tears appear to form at the corner of his eye. He blinks once and a single tear rolls swiftly down his cheek, hitting the floor. The figure takes some more steps forward as his form becomes larger in the small smudged mirror. Suddenly he crouches down. A hand appears to stretch out now beyond the camera and a single finger covers the middle of Ezriel’s parted, trembling lips. Wind whistles and whips by somewhere outside, rattling the shutters at the front of the building and as that happens we catch a small glimpse of something baffling in the mirror. The figure’s face begins to contort and distort as it blurs slightly and then suddenly morphs and changes. Staring back at Ezriel is something he can’t wrap his head around. In his mind he’s ten years old again. Those arms, that face… the blade. The agony comes back anew. Ezriel begins to scream but the sound is muddied like we are underwater. His face turns from a pale sickly white to a gleaming bright red, the veins in his temples and head bulging to the surface of his skin. He raises his arms up and we notice something we hadn’t previously. His hands are shackled together by some plastic zip ties. Ezriel’s expression transforms from great fear and sadness to pure rage as he yells out. He swings wildly at the figure in front of him, missing by quite some way. As he does he follow through and his momentum brings him down face first on the solid floor beneath him. The figure laughs again and prods him with a black shoed toe.
“Tam miserabili hominum. Why must I break you for you to gain my strength?”
Ezriel does not look up from the floor but speaks, his voice now calm but questioning. Almost on the verge of desperation.
¥ “But why? Why did you take away everything? My childhood… my body… my time. Time that I will never get back. What is this sadistic trial that you subject me to? Why?” ¥
The figure raises Ezriel’s chin up to meet his gaze and smiles at him smugly. Ezriel’s eyes dance like a flame and his chest heaves with emotion.
“Etiam multis quaestiones. Why must you interrogate me so? Things would be so much simpler if you gave yourself and simply embraced it all. For someone who is so worried about time you seem to waste enough of it. I have had enough of these trivial matters. There is still much to be done as I previously inferred to you. Mountains must be moved and stars must be destroyed. Preparation is key. As one of your own kind once said, in order to prepare to succeed you must succeed to prepare. Yes I was there that night and yes I struck you down. I will rebuild you Ezriel. You are my chosen one, the prophet. I will repay you the time you require ten fold. I will reward you with things beyond your wildest dreams. You will touch the lives of every man woman and child and change the world in new radical ways. I will grant you power and knowledge, success and accessibility to all of your deepest desires. I will give to you… what no-one has ever or will ever be given again. All you have to do my son, is give yourself to me. Completely.”
The figure’s face twists and warps again in the reflection as he moves his hand back to his side. Ezriel remains silent as he gazes almost blankly at the indistinguishable face. He bleats out in a soft croak with an almost child like quality to his voice.
¥ “If I do what you ask of me… if I go through with this… I wish not for riches and fame, nor for power and knowledge. I simply ask one thing. I want to see my Mother. I want her to know that her boy is still alive regardless the state of his existence. That is my one demand, so you may take it or you may leave it.” ¥
The figure remains silent as if pondering the request. It takes several minutes to consider before answering.
“As you wish. I will grant this to you. Now say the words. Give yourself to me for this worthy cause. Give yourself completely.”
The figure extends its hand once again, it appears almost skeletal now although there is a translucent quality to the suggested flesh surrounding it. Ezriel staggers forward on his knees grunting with every move he makes. He brings his head close to the apparitions hand and rests his lips upon it with a tender kiss. He looks up and solemnly pledges.
¥ “I accept my fate.” ¥
A howling shrieking sound suddenly overcomes us as the figure blazes into a shimmering blinding light. A huge gale runs through the whole building as Ezriel raises his shackled hands to his eyes to shield them from the light. The figure appears to melt away and then suddenly evaporates into a thin wispy cloud. Ezriel’s eyes roll into the back of his head and he begins to convulse as if experiencing a seizure. He drops down to the floor, smacking his head off the ground as the cacophony of sounds dies down to a deafening silence. The camera fades to black.
We hear a loud buzzing noise which we quickly recognise as the sound of a tattoo gun. The camera comes back into focus as we look down from a bird’s-eye view of the warehouse we were previously in. We see a man sitting down, Ezriel, who seems to be putting the finishing touches to his new body artwork. He has recently shaved his head and beard completely and a razor lies on the ground. Blood trickles from the several small cuts in his head he has made during this activity. Suddenly he glances upwards and stretches his arms out yelling at the top of his lungs as the camera zooms in very quickly on his newly skulled face.
Fade to black again.
We come back into focus again and pan around. We are in a dilapidated and run down squat like apartment. There are odds and ends everywhere, garbage is piled up all around us. Needles and other drug paraphernalia are riddled throughout. We make our way further and deeper into the apartment as we see people nodding off and a young couple who are helping to tie belts round each others arms. “Fur Elise” by Beethoven begins to play as we finally arrive to face a familiar figure. The man who stabbed the young boy that quiet night in Glasgow. The man with the tracks on his arms. He stands beside a large brown armchair that is ripped at the seems, the stuffing pouring out. In it, there sits a frail grey looking woman. She is stick thin. Dried blood cakes her nostrils and stains her mouth. A trail of vomit smears down her chin and drips onto her chest. The man beside her smiles and nods knowingly. He mutters something under his breath and reaches out his hand. It hovers there for a second and then he brushes the womans eyes closed. She lays there lifeless, still, but peaceful. The music swells as we fade to black… one… last… time. After a few seconds the music stops and we hear a hushed shush.
“Shhhhhhhh…… Shhhhhhh….”
“Now you will give to me what is owed. It is time young man. I sincerely hope you are more mentally prepared than you are physically. Your body will be the next step. Something bothers me however. I sense a great fear in you and I am curious… where does it stem from? Tell me… why are you afraid? Do you… fear me? Or is it perhaps you? Do you fear yourself?”
We fade in from a blank black screen to a palely blue lit space. As we look around we can tell that it is a lock up garage of some kind, almost a small warehouse in it’s size. Empty crate palettes are stacked in one of the corners and the edges of the room are framed with bracketed steel shelves. The floor is covered in streaks of different colors of paint and in one of the corners there is a questionable liquid that looks like a grotesque mixture of several body fluids. Beside this pool, slumped up against one of the steel shelves is a dishevelled scruffy looking man, bare chested and breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his brow. The one we have come to recognise as Ezriel. He rubs his eyes aggressively and then plants his right hand to the floor, pushing himself up onto one knee. He grunts and winces in discomfort.
¥ “Why should I fear myself? Why should I fear you? All I have now is myself. You abandoned me, don’t you remember? You left me to vegetate in that place, on that bed. I was alone, useless, trapped and you left me. I had to do this all by myself. I don’t fear you and I don’t owe you anything, you understand me?” ¥
Maniacal laughter fills the room followed by slow mocking tutting.
“You see foolish boy, that is where you are most assuredly wrong. You owe me more than you can ever know and more than you can ever repay. You owe me your gratitude… your life…”
The voice almost hisses like a serpent.
“Your soul.”
The camera keeps focused on Ezriel as the last two words linger in the room. He murmurs in pain and begins to heave a little.
¥ “Urghhh… hhhhhhyuuuurrghhhh…. ¥
Ezriel lurches forward gripping his stomach as he projectile vomits straight down into the pool of liquid beside him. A black tarry substance ensues from his throat and pours out his mouth. This lasts fifteen seconds or so, an uncomfortably long amount of time for such a gratuitous sight. He finally stops and gasps for breath, spitting the taste and residue from his mouth as bullets of cold sweat form on his forehead. He gulps in air and groans as he slams himself back into the shelves. He tightens his muscles and his hands begin to white knuckle as he bites down on his lower teeth, jaw clenched. He looks questionably upwards towards the ceiling and exclaims loudly through distorted painful grunts.
¥ “You’re the only one mistaken here… I… urghhhh…. I ain’t giving you shit. Mmmmuurrrghhh… what the hell is wrong with me?! What are you doing to me you son of a bitch?! Urrrghhhhh…” ¥
Ezriel gags again and stomps his feet on the ground as the wincing and pain filled moaning continues. Suddenly we hear a large metallic slam from behind us. It rings out as a voice sharply follows, low growling and full of venom.
“THAT’S ENOUGH!”
The command echoes round the high ceilings and vast open empty space. It subsides into deathly silence as Ezriel looks intently ahead of him, breathing heavily. We hear heavy footsteps very slowly striding ever nearer as Ezriel appears to look more and more uncomfortable. He squints his eyes again and then stops, mouth agog. They widen as a look of utter confusion and complete horror fills his face. He shakes his head and raises one hand up in a stopping motion. It seems as though he is trying to speak and or scream out but the noise is caught in his throat eventually emitting as a cracked whisper. He presses himself further back as the footsteps get closer still and eventually come to a stop. We notice there is a small rectangular mirror perched on the shelf beside Ezriel’s head. We can’t quite see the figure to whom the footsteps belong although we can see a long brown trench coat rolled up to reveal the owners forearms. A little laugh arises upon Ezriel’s change of expression. The figure turns his arms over to reveal a long set of track needle marks running down from elbow to wrist. Ezriel shakes his head again as small tears appear to form at the corner of his eye. He blinks once and a single tear rolls swiftly down his cheek, hitting the floor. The figure takes some more steps forward as his form becomes larger in the small smudged mirror. Suddenly he crouches down. A hand appears to stretch out now beyond the camera and a single finger covers the middle of Ezriel’s parted, trembling lips. Wind whistles and whips by somewhere outside, rattling the shutters at the front of the building and as that happens we catch a small glimpse of something baffling in the mirror. The figure’s face begins to contort and distort as it blurs slightly and then suddenly morphs and changes. Staring back at Ezriel is something he can’t wrap his head around. In his mind he’s ten years old again. Those arms, that face… the blade. The agony comes back anew. Ezriel begins to scream but the sound is muddied like we are underwater. His face turns from a pale sickly white to a gleaming bright red, the veins in his temples and head bulging to the surface of his skin. He raises his arms up and we notice something we hadn’t previously. His hands are shackled together by some plastic zip ties. Ezriel’s expression transforms from great fear and sadness to pure rage as he yells out. He swings wildly at the figure in front of him, missing by quite some way. As he does he follow through and his momentum brings him down face first on the solid floor beneath him. The figure laughs again and prods him with a black shoed toe.
“Tam miserabili hominum. Why must I break you for you to gain my strength?”
Ezriel does not look up from the floor but speaks, his voice now calm but questioning. Almost on the verge of desperation.
¥ “But why? Why did you take away everything? My childhood… my body… my time. Time that I will never get back. What is this sadistic trial that you subject me to? Why?” ¥
The figure raises Ezriel’s chin up to meet his gaze and smiles at him smugly. Ezriel’s eyes dance like a flame and his chest heaves with emotion.
“Etiam multis quaestiones. Why must you interrogate me so? Things would be so much simpler if you gave yourself and simply embraced it all. For someone who is so worried about time you seem to waste enough of it. I have had enough of these trivial matters. There is still much to be done as I previously inferred to you. Mountains must be moved and stars must be destroyed. Preparation is key. As one of your own kind once said, in order to prepare to succeed you must succeed to prepare. Yes I was there that night and yes I struck you down. I will rebuild you Ezriel. You are my chosen one, the prophet. I will repay you the time you require ten fold. I will reward you with things beyond your wildest dreams. You will touch the lives of every man woman and child and change the world in new radical ways. I will grant you power and knowledge, success and accessibility to all of your deepest desires. I will give to you… what no-one has ever or will ever be given again. All you have to do my son, is give yourself to me. Completely.”
The figure’s face twists and warps again in the reflection as he moves his hand back to his side. Ezriel remains silent as he gazes almost blankly at the indistinguishable face. He bleats out in a soft croak with an almost child like quality to his voice.
¥ “If I do what you ask of me… if I go through with this… I wish not for riches and fame, nor for power and knowledge. I simply ask one thing. I want to see my Mother. I want her to know that her boy is still alive regardless the state of his existence. That is my one demand, so you may take it or you may leave it.” ¥
The figure remains silent as if pondering the request. It takes several minutes to consider before answering.
“As you wish. I will grant this to you. Now say the words. Give yourself to me for this worthy cause. Give yourself completely.”
The figure extends its hand once again, it appears almost skeletal now although there is a translucent quality to the suggested flesh surrounding it. Ezriel staggers forward on his knees grunting with every move he makes. He brings his head close to the apparitions hand and rests his lips upon it with a tender kiss. He looks up and solemnly pledges.
¥ “I accept my fate.” ¥
A howling shrieking sound suddenly overcomes us as the figure blazes into a shimmering blinding light. A huge gale runs through the whole building as Ezriel raises his shackled hands to his eyes to shield them from the light. The figure appears to melt away and then suddenly evaporates into a thin wispy cloud. Ezriel’s eyes roll into the back of his head and he begins to convulse as if experiencing a seizure. He drops down to the floor, smacking his head off the ground as the cacophony of sounds dies down to a deafening silence. The camera fades to black.
We hear a loud buzzing noise which we quickly recognise as the sound of a tattoo gun. The camera comes back into focus as we look down from a bird’s-eye view of the warehouse we were previously in. We see a man sitting down, Ezriel, who seems to be putting the finishing touches to his new body artwork. He has recently shaved his head and beard completely and a razor lies on the ground. Blood trickles from the several small cuts in his head he has made during this activity. Suddenly he glances upwards and stretches his arms out yelling at the top of his lungs as the camera zooms in very quickly on his newly skulled face.
Fade to black again.
We come back into focus again and pan around. We are in a dilapidated and run down squat like apartment. There are odds and ends everywhere, garbage is piled up all around us. Needles and other drug paraphernalia are riddled throughout. We make our way further and deeper into the apartment as we see people nodding off and a young couple who are helping to tie belts round each others arms. “Fur Elise” by Beethoven begins to play as we finally arrive to face a familiar figure. The man who stabbed the young boy that quiet night in Glasgow. The man with the tracks on his arms. He stands beside a large brown armchair that is ripped at the seems, the stuffing pouring out. In it, there sits a frail grey looking woman. She is stick thin. Dried blood cakes her nostrils and stains her mouth. A trail of vomit smears down her chin and drips onto her chest. The man beside her smiles and nods knowingly. He mutters something under his breath and reaches out his hand. It hovers there for a second and then he brushes the womans eyes closed. She lays there lifeless, still, but peaceful. The music swells as we fade to black… one… last… time. After a few seconds the music stops and we hear a hushed shush.
“Shhhhhhhh…… Shhhhhhh….”
