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Nerina’s Death

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Nerina

The fact that the once-proud mer had been reduced to living in a lake somewhere in the wilds outside of Consequence pissed her off. She couldn’t return to Tethlune, though, not after she’d been controlled into killing her former king. Being out here, though, meant she was unprotected. There was no Incutilus, no Scylla, no Steve. Just her and the tiny little fish that made up the lake she lived in. Even though it was the dead of winter, she was comfortable. At least her presence made sure that the lake didn’t freeze over. She was laying along the bank, the cold winter sun glimmering off of her calico scales, deep brown eyes closed. She missed her home. She missed… well, not being a fucking recluse. She let out a sigh, pushing her upper body upright after a moment, pushing her hand through hair just as calico as her scales. Stupid fucking land dwellers.

Augustus Octavian

<His ventures outside of home these days were few and far in between, often simply to handle some sort of business with his cult or to make sure that his wives and children were kept comfortable. It took a lot to feed so many mouths and Ezra and himself did all they could to make sure that food was kept on the table and the metaphorical wrung. Many of the children needed blood to survive and he was the only real killer in that house of his. Still, there were times when he thought about the ventures into Hellifyno that he’d taken on the off chance that he could obtain something more permanent for his family. That’s when thoughts moved toward those he had wronged to rise. As of recently, there had only really been one. That had been the merwoman he had mind-controlled into a feral bliss, murdering her king. He stood at the edge of the shore, weaponless aside from the claws on his fingertips and the fangs in his mouth. He had always been dangerous without those things, though there had been moments in time when he’d worn swords, clubs, and the occasional spears. Couldn’t forget the guns. Regardless, he doesn’t need to breathe. He can sense her presence within the lake and gradually pushes toward it, his steps muffled by the gathering splash of water>

Nerina

Her tail had dipped back into the water lazily, swirling around, creating little ripples around the fanned appendage. But that was when she looked up. Deep brown eyes immediately flashed crimson, scales thickening, spines erupting from her back and arms. And when she snarled at him, her teeth had sharpened to razor-sharp points. Almost like a shark’s, if you thought about it. She dipped back into the water, hair darkening as she moved towards him like a missile, and when she erupted from the water, her hair was just as black as her sclera. “You.” Her voice was a raspy growl, every last feeling of anger, rage, and depression poured into that one word. She hadn’t *seen* him when he controlled her. But the presence was the same. The way he *felt* brought back those memories, and they crashed through her mind like a ton of bricks. “You have some fucking nerve showing up here! What do you want?”

Augustus Octavian

<His head croons as he steps further into the water. The base temperature of it seems to change, from cold to simmering like summer. It’s hard to tell whether that’s him or if it’s some natural magic acting to the baser godly energy from him. Either way, when she dips into the water, hair darkening and her moving toward him, he can see those teeth of hers glimmering into sharp razor ponts, the crimson of her eyes. It does nothing to warrant a change from him> I was considering putting a fish in her place. My family needs food and there’s nothing better than seafood after a hot summer. <He’s coaxing her, trying to see how far he can push her. He knows she’s angry. He only sought her out because her magical signature registered with his own when he came back to this realm. There is probably a hefty bit of his magic still clogged somewhere around within her head that has brought her to this low point. Magic that needs to be freed.>

Nerina

She didn’t have the aid of her pets this time, and that bothered her. The Incutilus would have been perfect for this, since she would have been able to hide herself within the tendrils until she was close and *then* she could strike. But she didn’t have that luxury this time. All she had was that boiling rage within her. The change of the water’s temperature didn’t seem to bother her as much as it should have, but that didn’t stop her. She launched herself at him, claws outstretched, one of her infamous, deafening screams poised on her lips. If he wanted her to get angry, to goad her into attacking…. well, it didn’t take much. “You can get fucked by a god damned cactus, for all I care!” Was she really as angry as she seemed? Or was it more sadness? Sadness that his actions caused her to lose out on the first mer she’d been…. well, “in love with” didn’t seem like an apt description. More like “obsessed with,” when you thought about it. Either way. She lost him, she lost her home, she’d lost her pets. She was depressed, yes, but she was also angry and this was the only way she could do anything about that anger. And if she managed to latch onto him with those claws, teeth would be the next thing she’d strike with.

Augustus Octavian

<As if he’d had something to bait her with, she comes charging at him before ever stopping to think if it’s a trap. A hand is stretched forward, enough speed and shock around the movement alone that a whiplash of air strikes her at the chest even as that hand’s fingers enclose around her throat, holding her in place as deafening screams screech out into the air around them, choked and strangled into muffled versions of themselves as she tries to attack. Claws are free to slash, to scratch, but even if they do, the wounds they make are little more than small, menacing little streaks that heal, leaving only torn, shredded cloth where clothes were. He grins, rearing forward. It doesn’t take much, a strike like a snake that bares curled, barbed fangs into the softer flesh near her shoulder. Regardless, teeth sink into flesh and a potent paralyzing venom is introduced to her blood stream, fast acting and a nervous toxin, leaving it hard for her to breathe. His teeth drawl from her immediately, blood spit out to whirlpool around the lake in thick clouds of red> You’re coming with me. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to have a meal to order.

Nerina

As the air struck her chest, she started to cry out. “Kim–” And then she stopped herself. Kimiko, her beloved Koi… was gone. She’d never be able to call on her for help again. As he gripped her throat, though, claws lashed out, regardless of whether the marks stayed or not. She just wanted to *fight* him. She wanted him to suffer the way she had. And logic… well, that wasn’t something that filled her mind right then. Only vengeance. She thrashed against him, spines dragging across his skin, even if she didn’t have the same kind of venom that Kyra had. No, all Nerina had, right then, was her slashing and blunt damage. Another scream ripped free as he sank his fangs into her, dying in her throat as that venom of his took hold. Even if she was paralyzed, it didn’t stop her from glaring at him, the red of her eyes glowing in her rage. 

Augustus Octavian

<Her thrashing body is no match for the strength that ebbs through him. His flesh is hard like diamond, leaving her spines to neither break across his flesh or to even bloody him up. The only thing she does is rip and tear his clothes which does little to contend with the abomination’s grip upon her or the way he moves to literally bite into her flesh that leaves her screaming as fangs rip into her flesh and as his venom takes hold. He considers dropping her right then and there, only he doesn’t. Instead, he carries her to the edge of the pond, leaving her to thrash upon the surface of the sandy surface. He grins at her from above> No one will miss you. <he said with a growl> No one to know you’d died or that you’d been tortured.

Nerina

He was right. She knew he was right. No one would care if she died here. The only thing that would benefit from her flesh would be the fish that lived within the lake. Maybe it was fitting. She deserved to die. She killed the one person who could have made her life worth living. But… it was his fault. He MADE her kill her king. The knowledge of that, though, made her struggle harder before that venom took over. It made her lash out with spines, claws, teeth, and that deafening scream. Anything to make him let. Her. GO! But it did nothing. Crimson eyes glared up at him, tears welling up in her eyes. She wanted to speak, wanted to tell him that he was wrong. Wanted to tell him that she’d be missed. But she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Couldn’t bring herself to lie.

Augustus Octavian

<As crimson eyes glared up at him, you’d think that something in him, something human, would press itself to the surface and deter him from what he planned to do with her. But no, it doesn’t. She wants him to let her go, wants him to simply allow her to attack him but he won’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, as her body greets the hard undergrowth and sandy ground of the shore, he kneels down on already soaked, wet knees, allowing her to thrash as the last of that venom takes root within her and in moments, she’s able to move again. But it’s no use trying to fight. Something, something a lot worse than venom, has taken over. Telekinesis, psionic energies, ravage her, pinning her down to the ground, pinning her arms and wrists down above her head. A flame starts at the base and hollow of her throat where her head’s been thrown back, as hot as hellfire, scorching flesh and searing into her vocal chords. She can scream but the pain would be unbearable. But something within her has snapped. She can’t pass out. She can’t clock out into unconsciousness. She can’t escape. He bends over her, using that flame to trail a path down from her throat, over her chest where flesh and scales are scorched away in as straight a line as if he’s used a rather hot scalpel.> I was going to drink you dry and then cut you into pieces to use for chum. It’s an honorable death for a traitorous merperson but I decided in typical fashion that I’d show you why the younger generation of the Giovanni used to call me Uncle Auggie.

Nerina

Was part of her hoping that there’d be some kind of humanity within him? Yes. Sweet Poseidon, she was hoping. But it was clear that wasn’t his intent. She could feel the sand of the lake’s shore biting into her skin, leaving scrapes that barely bled on her skin. She wanted to beg him to stop, to just let her go. She wasn’t going to cause trouble for anyone. She’d been out here, away from the other mer, for months now. Desperately, she tried to push herself up, trying to fight the venom that ripped through her nerves. Even if she could, he was pinned to the ground, choking on the very air that filled her throat. As a last-ditch effort to try and stop that burning sensation when she breathed, she began to open her gills, trying to take in air through those instead. It wasn’t as useful as breathing normally, but it might just keep her alive. Instead of screaming, she whimpered, tears streaking down her face as she tried to scoot away. The crimson faded from her eyes, leaving behind that deep, chocolate brown, and she whimpered as he spoke. She had no idea what he was talking about, since she never had anything to do with the families or cultures of the surface world. But there was a part of her mind that told her she *really* didn’t want to know.

Augustus Octavian

<His actions, the fiery temperature of that hellfire, do nothing to draw a scream from the merwoman. Instead, the only thing that parts her mouth is a whimper that seems to scale off the surrounding bands before she begins choking, before she begins making an attempt at breathing. It’s then that he produces a can as if from nowhere. Her mouth is open, gills trying to take in as much of the air as possible. Tears streak down her face and with that whimpering voice of hers still on display, he grabs hold of her chin, prying her mouth open. He only needs her to breathe through those lips. Instead of pouring that can’s contents down her gullet, no, he moves for the open wound where her flesh had been burned at her throat, pouring liquid sulfur down that open pipe of hers. It burns, yet is so cold that it leaves her flesh brittle with frostbite. He grins, watching her thrash about against that psionic energy of his even while he visibly shows her his hands, letting flesh sizzle and peel back after he’s poured enough down her throat that she can see that his fingers are now blades of dark energy, each one sharp as razors. He works on her shoulders first, right there around her collarbones. Flesh crafting her lungs to the point where they don’t close up, though she still has to fight against the urge to breathe, never getting enough air. Her body’s sensitivity increasing beyond its limits so that everything hurts just a bit more. He descales her, dragging claws to scrape and pull, to rip and tear away from her flesh.>

Nerina

She didn’t want to scream. And she couldn’t move. All she could do was whimper and close her eyes as she choked on her own breaths. Her eyes opened enough to see the can appear out of nowhere. Fear filled her delicate face, and she didn’t know what was going to happen. She tried to wrench her face away from that imposing grip, trying to avoid having whatever was in it from being poured down her throat. But it wasn’t enough. She could feel it burn and freeze its way down her throat, a choked scream erupting from her as she fought against him. No. She couldn’t die here. She still had reasons to live. At least…. she thought she did. Her breaths were shallow, raspy, gasping, never quite enough to satisfy her. And now she knew what it felt like when a fish was brought onto land by a fisherman. Another choked scream filled the air as she felt those claws dragging across her scales, peeling off each and every last brilliantly colored scale. Please. She wanted this to stop. What had she done to him? Why was he doing this? Her sobs were choked, just like her screams, no more than gurgling sounds that parted her lips.

Augustus Octavian

<He didn’t need a reason to do what he was. Only an inclination. While she’s forced to remain mostly still, there is still every chance of her getting free and doing something to help herself in this situation of hers but by now, the injuries caused will do more than leave a scar. Cold will affect her every year. She won’t be able to survive alone. Instead, her face is contorted with fear and pain as she tries to wrench her face away from his grip. In the end, liquid sulfur is poured down her gullet and it freezes its way down her throat, burning flesh and charring it with freezer burn right up to that moment where she chokes a scream from her lungs, fighting against him as she makes that attempt to live. She screams as claws drag down her scales, peeling each and every last one free. She begs for it to stop, choked sobs like screams leaving her mouth as she begs and struggles to catch her breath. Her voice, her screams, are gurgles within his ears, just as a fishes’ should be. In moments, he’s peeling back a layer of flesh along with the scales, ensuring that the peeled remnants are like a coat of scales, rather than each individual flake. What’s left behind is a layer of muscle, of thick sinew and fat. Yellow against bright pink, red, the occasional yellow and blue. When he reaches her fingers, he grins, looking up at her, and he bends down. What comes next is a bit of a display of horror. Teeth enclose around two of her fingers, shoved into his mouth by his own accord and CRUNCH, right through bone and flesh until each one has been pulled free right at the stubs. When one hand has completely been decimated, fingers ripped and bitten off, he pulls off her skin, complete with scales, moving onto the other>

Nerina

“P-please.” Her voice was a raspy thing, her words most likely falling on deaf ears. But she wanted it to stop. She wanted to, well, live. But it was too late. Even if she did live through this, she wouldn’t be the same. She wouldn’t be able to live without her precious pets. And she’d have to go back to Tethlune, which would no doubt result in her death. Maybe it was better to die this way. At least dying like this meant she couldn’t burden anyone else. She whimpered as her skin was peeled away, the source of her pride, those beautiful scales that had been the focus of so many other mers’ envy. There was a clear plea in her eyes, everything within her begging him not to do this. And as those teeth sank into her fingers, ripping them off at the base, she let out another scream. It didn’t matter how loud she was anymore. No one could hear her. No one would come to her rescue. She was starting to give up, to let herself give into the idea that this was the end for her. There was one last flick of her tail, though she couldn’t tell that it flicked, and she let herself go limp. If she was going to die, she wouldn’t fight it anymore. There was no point.

Augustus Octavian

<At this point, blood loss should be making her feel weak to the very core, as cold as ice could make someone. Temperature is rarely something a fish feels but blood loss can insinuate such details. She is close to her death whether she wants to admit that or not. Her fingers gone, ripped at the base, she lets out a scream that fills the air. Blood streaks down the sides of his mouth where her veins let loose torrents of blood that falls to the earth at her sides when he lets down her hands. It doesn’t matter how loud her screams are. She goes limp, no longer fighting, no longer seeing a point in her pain. That’s when he realizes that there’s no longer a need to keep this going further. He growls, clawed, bladed fingers moving to her throat. One hand reverts back to normal, the other grabbing at the back of her head, tangling real fingers in her hair. After obtaining a grip at her carotid and the base of her throat at the same time, he finally grins at her, digs those fingers in, and then he rips out her throat, blood spilling around his fingers, her body convulsing from the sudden resurgence of pain. Blood splashes the ground, his face, his forefront. He picks her up, tosses her into the water. As much as his writer wants to live by his earlier threats, he lets the fish within that lake have her. It’s a justified burial> 

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