![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
un: abwhorent / video ( a couple of days post coliseum )
( There is a hand. The hand is palm up, fingers splayed, unmoving where it lays upon a desk. Someone has bandaged it from the wrist leaving the space where an arm should be a little less gruesome, though the hand is still unmistakeably without an owner and currently lifeless. Beyond the hand is Wen Kexing, slouched in a chair, a carefully cultivated air of boredom about him. He's exchanged his usual blue robes for new ones of vivid red and he sits in the flickering candlelight looking down at the hand with the faraway sounds of laughter and music surrounding him. Without a word he reaches inside of his sleeve to produce a gold ring, holding it up to his network device before he drops it on the desk, a little further from the hand. There is a moment, two, and then the hand wobbles like a turtle on it's back before it flips itself upright and begins to move, crawling towards the discarded jewellery. The ring is plucked up, clumsily fitted halfway on to one of the digits, the size too small for the broadness of its fingers. They clench in response, and Wen Kexing hums. )
I don't know about you, but where I'm from severed limbs aren't supposed to lend themselves to vanity.
( The hand, now alert, scuttles around Wen Kexing's desk plucking up anything it can. Another sigh and the man himself is lifting a half-empty wine bottle out of the way, his attention turning back to the camera. ) I found it in the middle of one of those rifts. It had an effect on the corpses around it so I thought it might be useful. They seemed aware of the thing, avoidant perhaps. The water stopped oozing quite as much when I took it too. I'm not versed in magic, so I don't know what any of that means. I will say that it seems ... angry, most of the time. ( He's used to murderous intent, it's part of his day to day life. The hand certainly has that in significant amounts. Though he thinks anyone who suffered such a loss might be. ) I also found it clutching this.
( His other hand slides open a drawer, lifting out a tattered scrap of cloth. A purple mantle, ragged at the edges, like it has been torn free. Wen Kexing smiles in a way that is not quite pleasant, teeth flashing in the light. )
Perhaps someone has some knowledge of any accidents that have taken place lately. I'd hate to think there's a person out there who might be suffering, I am a philanthropist after all. Which is why I'm sharing my findings.
( The hand suddenly makes a beeline for the edge of the desk, Wen Kexing moves just as fast, flipping a wooden bowl over the top of it, leaning forward to put his elbow on the base of it to trap his new friend. It throws him out of the shadows though, the dark smudges under his eyes part of a man who has very much not slept in a while. He realises this shortly after, shrugging a shoulder with ease before lifting the earlier wine bottle back up, flicking the cork away so he can take a deep drink. )
It's a little unruly.
I don't know about you, but where I'm from severed limbs aren't supposed to lend themselves to vanity.
( The hand, now alert, scuttles around Wen Kexing's desk plucking up anything it can. Another sigh and the man himself is lifting a half-empty wine bottle out of the way, his attention turning back to the camera. ) I found it in the middle of one of those rifts. It had an effect on the corpses around it so I thought it might be useful. They seemed aware of the thing, avoidant perhaps. The water stopped oozing quite as much when I took it too. I'm not versed in magic, so I don't know what any of that means. I will say that it seems ... angry, most of the time. ( He's used to murderous intent, it's part of his day to day life. The hand certainly has that in significant amounts. Though he thinks anyone who suffered such a loss might be. ) I also found it clutching this.
( His other hand slides open a drawer, lifting out a tattered scrap of cloth. A purple mantle, ragged at the edges, like it has been torn free. Wen Kexing smiles in a way that is not quite pleasant, teeth flashing in the light. )
Perhaps someone has some knowledge of any accidents that have taken place lately. I'd hate to think there's a person out there who might be suffering, I am a philanthropist after all. Which is why I'm sharing my findings.
( The hand suddenly makes a beeline for the edge of the desk, Wen Kexing moves just as fast, flipping a wooden bowl over the top of it, leaning forward to put his elbow on the base of it to trap his new friend. It throws him out of the shadows though, the dark smudges under his eyes part of a man who has very much not slept in a while. He realises this shortly after, shrugging a shoulder with ease before lifting the earlier wine bottle back up, flicking the cork away so he can take a deep drink. )
It's a little unruly.
Page 1 of 8