He's tired, William. Not physically...but mentally. He put almost everything he had into making these representations, demonic father and angelic mother. Because it's important to him, both to pass this test and do right by his Sire and his newfound Sect that he doesn't yet fully understand (he's getting there, give him tim) and to do them both justice. Even hating his father, he felt like he should do it right. His father was a demon in human form, no less so for the fact that he wasn't supernatural. And his mother an angel in human for, not a touch less beatific because she didn't have wings.
The mental tiredness doesn't facilitate what happens, but it doesn't hinder it one bit either. He leans against the back wall of the alcove, waiting. He has a thousand possibilities running through his head, each one worse than the one before it. He's on edge, he's nervous. He can't do this wrong. Everything depends on this.
And he cringes, William. He can't really shrink away when they are pressed against him, chained into place. But his head pushes back against the wall and he feels that snapping, growling, snarling thing deep inside of him start to rise, like your gorge rising at something that makes you want to turn and run. Like vomit pushing up from your stomach acids at the worst thing you can imagine. Only ten, twenty, thirty times stronger. He fights back, holds it down.
He is a survivor. He will survive this.
But he's not a survivor. Not really. He is becoming one perhaps, he is certainly more of one than he used to be. But he has not yet survived, and his penitence presses against him like those two nude bodies. And then they are joined. He realizes what his happening...the mother and the father, overreaching archetypes and persons so very personal and tailored to him at the same time, are melded together.
They start to struggle, the conjoined kine. And William struggles deeply against his Beast. He tries so hard to avoid the snap snap snarl of the creature inside and there's a moment where he just
Snaps
It happens so quickly. At one moment he's back away, keeping even that tiny sliver of space between him and mother-father. And then at the next he has his hands on not-Jacob's throat and shoulders, about to rip his head straight off as he snarls, fangs fully extended and red haze in his eyes. His mind is full with only one thought, shoved fully into his brain and overriding everything else:
GET. AWAY. FROM. HER.
It is in this moment, perhaps, that Vee, Flood and yes even Bertram understand William at a deeper level than they have yet. What they've heard from Ioana, what they see now...the pure, unmitigated hatred, primal and bestial, for the abusive man. His face twisted in wrath and rage and fury to be even uglier (or perhaps more glorious) than it's ever been. And there is a fraction of an instant where he is about to pull. And then:
No.
He pulls back suddenly, throws himself against the wall. He needs not breathe but he's panting out of habit. The haze clears through his sheer force of Will; the force that is coming quickly to an end. And his only thought, his only imperative is Survive. You're better than this. And he does hold back, and he avoids destroying his creation (because really, we're all the creators of our own parent's image. Even Vee, William has created his own image for) because he is better than this. What it cost him...well, that will have to be discovered later.
And those eyes, wild and frantic and on the verge of going red again, look to Iona. "Whadda I gotta do?"
It's asked with the implication that he knows, instinctually, he doesn't have long to process as his hands scratch at the sides of the alcove and twitch for kine flesh to rend away from the father figure against him.
Samael (For William Rolls) @ 12:33AM
[[Self Control @ 6, I think it makes sense with things piled on. Go William...don't lose it now! Turn 1!]]
Roll: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2) ( fail ) VALID
Samael (For William Rolls) @ 12:38AM
[[WP Spent to hold off Frenzy. God dammit dice, what did I do to you?]]
[[EDIT: Joey totally witnessed these but it didn't get added in here. He'll vouch!]]
The mental tiredness doesn't facilitate what happens, but it doesn't hinder it one bit either. He leans against the back wall of the alcove, waiting. He has a thousand possibilities running through his head, each one worse than the one before it. He's on edge, he's nervous. He can't do this wrong. Everything depends on this.
And he cringes, William. He can't really shrink away when they are pressed against him, chained into place. But his head pushes back against the wall and he feels that snapping, growling, snarling thing deep inside of him start to rise, like your gorge rising at something that makes you want to turn and run. Like vomit pushing up from your stomach acids at the worst thing you can imagine. Only ten, twenty, thirty times stronger. He fights back, holds it down.
He is a survivor. He will survive this.
But he's not a survivor. Not really. He is becoming one perhaps, he is certainly more of one than he used to be. But he has not yet survived, and his penitence presses against him like those two nude bodies. And then they are joined. He realizes what his happening...the mother and the father, overreaching archetypes and persons so very personal and tailored to him at the same time, are melded together.
They start to struggle, the conjoined kine. And William struggles deeply against his Beast. He tries so hard to avoid the snap snap snarl of the creature inside and there's a moment where he just
Snaps
It happens so quickly. At one moment he's back away, keeping even that tiny sliver of space between him and mother-father. And then at the next he has his hands on not-Jacob's throat and shoulders, about to rip his head straight off as he snarls, fangs fully extended and red haze in his eyes. His mind is full with only one thought, shoved fully into his brain and overriding everything else:
GET. AWAY. FROM. HER.
It is in this moment, perhaps, that Vee, Flood and yes even Bertram understand William at a deeper level than they have yet. What they've heard from Ioana, what they see now...the pure, unmitigated hatred, primal and bestial, for the abusive man. His face twisted in wrath and rage and fury to be even uglier (or perhaps more glorious) than it's ever been. And there is a fraction of an instant where he is about to pull. And then:
No.
He pulls back suddenly, throws himself against the wall. He needs not breathe but he's panting out of habit. The haze clears through his sheer force of Will; the force that is coming quickly to an end. And his only thought, his only imperative is Survive. You're better than this. And he does hold back, and he avoids destroying his creation (because really, we're all the creators of our own parent's image. Even Vee, William has created his own image for) because he is better than this. What it cost him...well, that will have to be discovered later.
And those eyes, wild and frantic and on the verge of going red again, look to Iona. "Whadda I gotta do?"
It's asked with the implication that he knows, instinctually, he doesn't have long to process as his hands scratch at the sides of the alcove and twitch for kine flesh to rend away from the father figure against him.
Samael (For William Rolls) @ 12:33AM
[[Self Control @ 6, I think it makes sense with things piled on. Go William...don't lose it now! Turn 1!]]
Roll: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2) ( fail ) VALID
Samael (For William Rolls) @ 12:38AM
[[WP Spent to hold off Frenzy. God dammit dice, what did I do to you?]]
[[EDIT: Joey totally witnessed these but it didn't get added in here. He'll vouch!]]
"The anger of a good man is not a problem. Good men have too many rules."
"Good men don't need rules. And today's not the day to find out why I have so many."
"Good men don't need rules. And today's not the day to find out why I have so many."