[ It's work, to get the head off, head's never come off clean, no matter how often he does it. There's no neat way to remove them, never has been. Gets the blade in deep and jerks it backwards and forwards to cut tendons. Fingers sunk in to pull at skin out of the way as he worked. Would it have been like this, if they had? No, the heavy long axes. Attended more than a few executions, but the nobles would have wanted it painful, probably. Thinks the only reason Burrows left his face some days from the worst of it, so it would look less marred when they took his head and put it on a spike for the world to see.
Works, because it's easier than thinking, killing is killing is killing and the blade turns over too quick in his fingers in a little agitated gesture. That question is long, and it's full of memories. Jerks hard and doesn't mean it, doesn't mean to be vicious it's just, he cannot be furious with anything else, because what is it to that? he is full of it --
The head comes off. There's the sound of ripping flesh, sodden and tearing. Dead long enough that it doesn't spurt even if it flicks some with the crunch of blade on bones, heavy where it pulls free and it takes some strength to do it. No gush like a torrent, but it drips off his fingers, from the stump. Coats to the wrist and the blade. ] Cut down the middle would you? Neck to tail.
[ Turned his head, using his shoulder to wipe where it had splattered on his cheek some and it's more than that, the same as when Emily had been small, she didn't know better when she asked questions, neither did Jasper. Enough here, that maybe, it felt like, there was some obligation to answer rather than brush it off as nothing. Still, he takes his time about it the head, huge as it is, is unceremoniously dumped in the sink for the time being. Gets a bucket in the same moment, and comes back to shove it under where the stump of a neck was trickling blood. Still warm. Not that long dead. Spirits but he was sick of how blood felt on his hands because it was the only thing that felt warm anymore, and even then, the mark just glowed and glowed and glowed underneath it.
He goes back to work, then, slow even breaths, picks the slivers of calm out of it. ] A lot of reasons, things weren't... good before hand. Riots over food, the nobles -- [ and whilst Jasper cuts the line down the middle, he goes to a back leg, starts at it's knee and begins to cut a line up towards the middle along the inside of it's thigh. ] -- didn't want to share, a lot of politics that just made it worse, at some point, a whole district was flooded by the river because no one tended to the barriers. [ This cut is neater, even and careful as to not tear what would be good leather. ] Then the plague came, no one knows where from... [ Galvanni's offices, the doctor's notes. The plague had arrived with the rats and the rats had been introduced. Stages, it had been brought and he doesn't know why. ] -- thousands were dead in the first few weeks. It's fatal within a few days of contracting it, and it is messy. The infected cry blood, so they called them weepers, because they wept until they died. The skin dies and flies lay their eggs inside it, and crawl from it. The stink is wretched.
[ Turns the blade to curve around the muscle. ] Her Majesty sent me to ask for aide from the other isles, they in turn, blockaded the city to wait for us to die. There's been no trade in and out for the last six months. When the Lord Regent came into power, his method was to take all the infected and dump them in his newly made quarantine zone and forbid the passage of people between different areas. Kills anyone who breaks it, kills them for other reasons too. We have lights as this, [ he gestures with the knife where it finally slips free at the end of the cut, curls it around in a lazy circle at the lights above them. ] But it is for the rich. Most only see it in huge walls of electricity, that if you try to cross them, it turns you to ash, or pylons that pick out guards over civilians... they made men on great metal legs and bodies, and they use them to shoot arrows of fire at the infected to clear them out.
[ He goes on, it's not a eloquent story, it's not happy, it has no purpose, no beginning and it has no end, it's just simple and then, and then they began to close up the streets, and then the abbey took to the streets and accused all they could of witchcraft and set their dogs on people's throats, and then, and then, and then. Speaks with his head down and his eyes on his work and his fingers don't shake and his tone stays even and he might be describing it as if what he had seen had not happened to him. One leg and then the other, trusting that Jasper will do the other two without pause or needing instruction, the boy knew his work after all, and he was more than capable. As much praise as he could give easily, that he trusted anyone to be capable. Goes from the legs then, and it's the task of pulling the skin off the meat, the fat underneath. Running the flat of the blade underneath to pull it off in one long section. ]
no subject
Works, because it's easier than thinking, killing is killing is killing and the blade turns over too quick in his fingers in a little agitated gesture. That question is long, and it's full of memories. Jerks hard and doesn't mean it, doesn't mean to be vicious it's just, he cannot be furious with anything else, because what is it to that? he is full of it --
The head comes off. There's the sound of ripping flesh, sodden and tearing. Dead long enough that it doesn't spurt even if it flicks some with the crunch of blade on bones, heavy where it pulls free and it takes some strength to do it. No gush like a torrent, but it drips off his fingers, from the stump. Coats to the wrist and the blade. ] Cut down the middle would you? Neck to tail.
[ Turned his head, using his shoulder to wipe where it had splattered on his cheek some and it's more than that, the same as when Emily had been small, she didn't know better when she asked questions, neither did Jasper. Enough here, that maybe, it felt like, there was some obligation to answer rather than brush it off as nothing. Still, he takes his time about it the head, huge as it is, is unceremoniously dumped in the sink for the time being. Gets a bucket in the same moment, and comes back to shove it under where the stump of a neck was trickling blood. Still warm. Not that long dead. Spirits but he was sick of how blood felt on his hands because it was the only thing that felt warm anymore, and even then, the mark just glowed and glowed and glowed underneath it.
He goes back to work, then, slow even breaths, picks the slivers of calm out of it. ] A lot of reasons, things weren't... good before hand. Riots over food, the nobles -- [ and whilst Jasper cuts the line down the middle, he goes to a back leg, starts at it's knee and begins to cut a line up towards the middle along the inside of it's thigh. ] -- didn't want to share, a lot of politics that just made it worse, at some point, a whole district was flooded by the river because no one tended to the barriers. [ This cut is neater, even and careful as to not tear what would be good leather. ] Then the plague came, no one knows where from... [ Galvanni's offices, the doctor's notes. The plague had arrived with the rats and the rats had been introduced. Stages, it had been brought and he doesn't know why. ] -- thousands were dead in the first few weeks. It's fatal within a few days of contracting it, and it is messy. The infected cry blood, so they called them weepers, because they wept until they died. The skin dies and flies lay their eggs inside it, and crawl from it. The stink is wretched.
[ Turns the blade to curve around the muscle. ] Her Majesty sent me to ask for aide from the other isles, they in turn, blockaded the city to wait for us to die. There's been no trade in and out for the last six months. When the Lord Regent came into power, his method was to take all the infected and dump them in his newly made quarantine zone and forbid the passage of people between different areas. Kills anyone who breaks it, kills them for other reasons too. We have lights as this, [ he gestures with the knife where it finally slips free at the end of the cut, curls it around in a lazy circle at the lights above them. ] But it is for the rich. Most only see it in huge walls of electricity, that if you try to cross them, it turns you to ash, or pylons that pick out guards over civilians... they made men on great metal legs and bodies, and they use them to shoot arrows of fire at the infected to clear them out.
[ He goes on, it's not a eloquent story, it's not happy, it has no purpose, no beginning and it has no end, it's just simple and then, and then they began to close up the streets, and then the abbey took to the streets and accused all they could of witchcraft and set their dogs on people's throats, and then, and then, and then. Speaks with his head down and his eyes on his work and his fingers don't shake and his tone stays even and he might be describing it as if what he had seen had not happened to him. One leg and then the other, trusting that Jasper will do the other two without pause or needing instruction, the boy knew his work after all, and he was more than capable. As much praise as he could give easily, that he trusted anyone to be capable. Goes from the legs then, and it's the task of pulling the skin off the meat, the fat underneath. Running the flat of the blade underneath to pull it off in one long section. ]