[And as the votes come in, the lights go out, and the room is once again plunged into darkness; the only light visible is that ambient dark blue that accompanies the electronic touchpads powering down.
After a moment, though, that stark, bright light illuminates the pit in the center of the room, the white tiled walls glinting sharply; there are no cries or sounds of a struggle, no noise indicating his departure, but once everyone's eyes adjust it's clear that Yato is gone from the circle.
Then the wall beneath podium 25 opens up (and it's so close to Mion's); when Yato comes out he doesn't focus on his surroundings – after all, the pit is empty, and if anything has been shown over the course of the last two executions, he'll have a few seconds before anything happens.
Instead, he looks up, and he smiles at those still standing at their podiums in the circle above, and even if it's a little awkward and strange it's obvious that he's trying. Trying to do what is a little hard to say; perhaps it's an attempt at being comforting. Either way, the expression is accompanied with a slight wave before what must be the sound of the door opening behind him catches his attention.
When Mion steps out, her expression is severe; there's no anger in it, but there's a very intense, focused determination in her features, even if the look in her eyes is a little blank.
But Yato's eyes aren't focused on her face; rather, they're focused on the swords in her hands – long and hiltless, the handling ends wrapped in strips of white fabric.
His eyes remain there as she moves into the pit; she doesn't charge him, she doesn't sprint toward him, she just circles around. Sizing him up, maybe; getting a feel for the situation. For the arena, for her opponent, for the weight of the blades she's holding.
When Yato moves, it's quick; his focus is on her hands – but unfortunately, her focus is on his legs, and she's much faster than she was the last time she faced him. It's fast work, getting his legs out from under him; the leg sweep she snaps him up into is flawless. And no sooner is he on his back on the ground than she's pinning him there, her legs straddling his waist and those blades held high on in her hands.
He looks like he wants to say something; in the end, he just turns his head to the side, looking away from her as those blades come down. And they come down hard, both of them piercing through Yato's body centimeters from one another; she's aimed low on his chest, stabbing through his diaphragm, forcing his body to spasm as blood bubbles up in his mouth – his back arches and for a brief moment he looks up at her before turning his head again, but this time it's to spit out a dark streak of blood across the white tiles of the floor.
Mion just watches him do it, her expression unchanging.
Yato shifts a bit, not quite writhing but clearly trying to do something – push her off, clear his lungs, one or the other – only for Mion to jerk those blades out just as roughly as she'd pushed them in.]
Goodnight, Regaled.
[The Kingmaker's voice can be heard a split second before the swords plunge deep into Yato's chest; she hits his heart this time, hard enough for flecks of blood to hit her in the face, and perhaps the only merciful thing that can be said about it is that Yato goes still immediately. Mion, however, does not; she yanks the blades out roughly and brings them down again and again, her aim shifting a bit as though making absolutely sure he's dead. Lungs, stomach, the diaphragm again, her movements harsh and uncontrolled despite the lack of necessity for it, until finally she stops, blades buried deep in Yato's chest, and she sits back and just looks down at what she's done.
There's still a trail of dark crimson spilling out of his mouth, and it takes a brief moment for the blood to stop pulsing out of the injuries, shining dark against his clothes; Mion just sits there, uncaring about the blood that's spilled onto her jeans and the flecks of it splashed across her face, and she stays that way until the pit darkens and the lights come back to life in the courtroom.]
ACCOUNTABILITY.
After a moment, though, that stark, bright light illuminates the pit in the center of the room, the white tiled walls glinting sharply; there are no cries or sounds of a struggle, no noise indicating his departure, but once everyone's eyes adjust it's clear that Yato is gone from the circle.
Then the wall beneath podium 25 opens up (and it's so close to Mion's); when Yato comes out he doesn't focus on his surroundings – after all, the pit is empty, and if anything has been shown over the course of the last two executions, he'll have a few seconds before anything happens.
Instead, he looks up, and he smiles at those still standing at their podiums in the circle above, and even if it's a little awkward and strange it's obvious that he's trying. Trying to do what is a little hard to say; perhaps it's an attempt at being comforting. Either way, the expression is accompanied with a slight wave before what must be the sound of the door opening behind him catches his attention.
When Mion steps out, her expression is severe; there's no anger in it, but there's a very intense, focused determination in her features, even if the look in her eyes is a little blank.
But Yato's eyes aren't focused on her face; rather, they're focused on the swords in her hands – long and hiltless, the handling ends wrapped in strips of white fabric.
His eyes remain there as she moves into the pit; she doesn't charge him, she doesn't sprint toward him, she just circles around. Sizing him up, maybe; getting a feel for the situation. For the arena, for her opponent, for the weight of the blades she's holding.
When Yato moves, it's quick; his focus is on her hands – but unfortunately, her focus is on his legs, and she's much faster than she was the last time she faced him. It's fast work, getting his legs out from under him; the leg sweep she snaps him up into is flawless. And no sooner is he on his back on the ground than she's pinning him there, her legs straddling his waist and those blades held high on in her hands.
He looks like he wants to say something; in the end, he just turns his head to the side, looking away from her as those blades come down. And they come down hard, both of them piercing through Yato's body centimeters from one another; she's aimed low on his chest, stabbing through his diaphragm, forcing his body to spasm as blood bubbles up in his mouth – his back arches and for a brief moment he looks up at her before turning his head again, but this time it's to spit out a dark streak of blood across the white tiles of the floor.
Mion just watches him do it, her expression unchanging.
Yato shifts a bit, not quite writhing but clearly trying to do something – push her off, clear his lungs, one or the other – only for Mion to jerk those blades out just as roughly as she'd pushed them in.]
Goodnight, Regaled.
[The Kingmaker's voice can be heard a split second before the swords plunge deep into Yato's chest; she hits his heart this time, hard enough for flecks of blood to hit her in the face, and perhaps the only merciful thing that can be said about it is that Yato goes still immediately. Mion, however, does not; she yanks the blades out roughly and brings them down again and again, her aim shifting a bit as though making absolutely sure he's dead. Lungs, stomach, the diaphragm again, her movements harsh and uncontrolled despite the lack of necessity for it, until finally she stops, blades buried deep in Yato's chest, and she sits back and just looks down at what she's done.
There's still a trail of dark crimson spilling out of his mouth, and it takes a brief moment for the blood to stop pulsing out of the injuries, shining dark against his clothes; Mion just sits there, uncaring about the blood that's spilled onto her jeans and the flecks of it splashed across her face, and she stays that way until the pit darkens and the lights come back to life in the courtroom.]