❛ no one here deserves to die except for me and the monster i created. ❜ for gortash !!!
HEATHERS THE MUSICAL / accepting.
the ground trembles. the elder brain.
THEY ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME.
are these the games she will play? when they are so close?
a loud ringing permeates his brain, echoing in his ears. the strong façade of enver gortash is shattering before her. they had once been allies. "orin ruined you." he spits, his voice taking on a dangerous tone very much unlike the prim and proper archduke. no longer is he the calm and practiced charmer, the advisor who influenced so many. no. this is the BROKEN man beneath the marble walls he carefully constructed.
enver flymm had only been a boy. . . when he had been SOLD, chained. tortured. the house of hope -- NO! there had been no hope. there is no hope in the world. only choices. only action. and he had acted! HE FREED HIMSELF from the clutches of raphael, from the tortures of nubaldin and whatever fiend that raphael had at his beck and call. there are scars beneath his expensive jacket that he'd purchased with the money he had EARNED.
morgana had met the man enver built, but perhaps she did help create this MONSTER before her.
he laughs. "do you think yourself so disposable? what? now that you refuse daddy's call?" enver mocks, approaching her in his office. here he had been, thinking she would accept his hand of friendship once more. that she would remember. enver reaches for her then, grabbing at her leathers, pulling her close enough that his spit sprays against her as he speaks. "we were born to rule. perhaps you promised your monster of a father that you would kill us all, but you were pragmatic. . . you were. . . perfect." his voice is softer on perfect, as he remembers a time before.
enver pushes her back, letting go of her. there he stands, a sickening look on his face, nose crinkled as if he has gotten a whiff of shit. "is that it, then? is this the future you choose? to kill me? to kill us?" and then he throws his arms outward, gesturing around them. "we deserve this. I DESERVE THIS, MORGANA. i did everything right. and then you had to develop a heart for this people. . ." he tuts before bowing his head forward. those dark bangs hide his face at this angle.
the ground trembles once more.
". . . yes. i am the monster you made me." it was her briliance that led him to thinking of the crown. their combined genius brought them to the hells together. they accomplished stealing from mephistopheles himself. and this. this. . . is how their story ends. "will you. . . actually be able to kill me?" and here, he channels bane, the tyrant. the black lord. . . the god of hate. the god of FEAR.
dark eyes flash PURPLE briefly.
"if it is a fight you want. . . well, i could never deny you."
