[EVENT] Lavender's Blue [open]

[snowblindmods]

Characters: anyone and everyone
Location all around town
Date: Night 180
Summary: Kill the sinners or run for your lives.
Warnings: Horror, potential gore and death. Please note more specific warnings in subject lines!

close we will live, dilly dilly
and when we die
both in one grave, dilly dilly
close we will lie

Comments

[howdull]

It's you who has the wrong eyes.

[That should be obvious to them both. Of the two of them, which is the murderer and which is the world famous detective? He notes that candlestick, but ignores it for now.]

You know how this must end, you are not quite as stupid as most people here.

[As evidenced by his recording the fight. Sherlock will get his own tablet out to do the same thing, not trusting one of the glowing eyed folk to not twist and corrupt the evidence.]

grrr HTML

[termineur]

[ He sets his tablet on the ground, propping it up against the wall. ]

Gee, thanks for the compliment.

[ He means it, even if it sounds sarcastic. As he raises back up to a standing position, he sticks his free hand in his pocket. ]

But yeah, I don't think I'm getting out of this one. Don't think I'm going to go down easy, though. We've got to make this fun, right?

[ He's backing away from Sherlock, but he won't be leaving this room. ]

html is the devil

[howdull]

Now that you've betrayed the Prophet, do you feel special?

[He still sounds just mildly curious, even as he launches himself at Sylar in a surprisingly practised punch. He's not just a scholarly mind.]

Have you finally found your lacking sense of purpose? Such a pedestrian reason for turning to murder, Gabriel, dissatisfaction.

[termineur]

[ Damn, he's quick. Sylar had been hoping he could dodge a lot of these hits, but that's looking unlikely. This first punch lands on the side of his head, and he instinctively holds his right hand (the one with the candlestick) up to block. ]

What, you've never been bored?

[ A joke. He gets more serious as he tries to kick at one of Sherlock's knees. His left hand remains in its pocket. ]

I do have a purpose right now- injuring you so you can't get around to anyone else.

[howdull]

[He staggers as he's kicked in the knee, but he uses the momentum of falling to lunge forwards and attempt to grab Gabriel's arm and wrench it behind his back in a pressure hold.]

You don't care about anyone else here.

[Said with such confidence.]

You have never really cared about anyone except yourself and the life you feel you deserve for being better than the average man. Smarter, more perceptive, more willing to do what needs to be done. But you aren't. You are just as pedestrian, just as banal, as the rest of the world. And look at where it's led you, look what you've become.

[termineur]

[ Sherlock gets his right arm, which is fine. That's not the one he's concerned about. But that does hurt, ow. He lets out a quiet groan at the pain.

The words, though- those make him laugh, rather bitterly. 'Look what you've become', indeed. ]

Maybe I don't care about anyone else, but you do.

[ His left hand finally comes out of his pocket, brandishing John's scalpel. He doesn't go for Sherlock's neck- instead he tries his best to slice a deep, long cut in Sherlock's arm. He would've gone for the legs, but he can't reach with this hold. ]

You don't want to hurt anyone, that's why you came after me.

[howdull]

[The scalpel successfully runs a deep gouge in his arm, tearing his coat to ribbons and sticking his shirt to the skin with blood. He immediately reaches with his other hand to try and snap those fingers and take the scalpel - if he's successful, he'll stab it directly into Sylar's throat at the side.

If he's not, he'll simply tighten his pressure hold to the point where the arm might be near breaking. Either way, he will murmur next to his ear.]

I have hurt people before, I'm no hero, and you do not know what I will do to protect the ones I do care about.

[He would kill for John, and it sounds to him as though this heretic is threatening the people-- person (at least here) that he cares for.]

[termineur]

[ Not only is Sherlock successful, he gets a rather pitiful cry out of Sylar as his fingers are snapped. Sylar had accomplished the one thing he could reasonably expect to do. It was all useless flailing from then on. -well, at least until he had a scalpel in his throat.

He stilled, almost as if that would keep the blood from flowing out of the wound. ]

How lucky for you.

[ With that cryptic murmur, he slumps against Sherlock. He's not going to fight from here. He's tired. Maybe he'll bleed out on Sherlock's coat and ruin it further. ]