#(( listen this is a fun verse sandbox im having a Time sdhjfjsdgf ))

[acemenagerie-a]

oof please do elias for GAME OVER

Game Over.  Try Again? || ACCEPTING @praemetuere

Elias’s hands are slick with sweat, though Jonah has chosen to clasp them behind his back to keep from being found out.  Terror thrums at the back of Elias’s skull, though the feeling is nestled in complete confidence.  Jonah fears death too much to ever feel entirely at ease discussing it, but firmly believes that he holds the game-winning ace.  He has hustled his opponent and will come out on top.

Unfortunately for him, he has been playing blind - utterly unaware of the other player nestled in his stolen skull.

“No, the only choice I think that matters is whether you want to kill me or not.”  Jonah says the words with ease, smiling.  His eyes glitter in the dark, flicking periodically to the metal of the knife in Martin’s hand.  Elias settles in to Jonah’s fear.

He puts his thumb on the scale.

In the swirling of choices and power plays and questions of who is doing what for whom, comes another idea.  Killing Jonah Magnus is right.  Not in the way of anger hazed revenge, nor in the sense of fulfilling some grandiose heroic plot, but in the same way that an apple falling to the ground when you drop it is right.

Apples are supposed to fall.  Jonah Magnus is supposed to be dead.

Whatever bet sits between these two men matters little in the face of the cosmic gamble life has made with death.  It is simply time for Jonah to pay up.

As Martin more closely regards the body of Jonah, Elias feels his breathing start to pick up.  If one was watching closely, they might notice the breathing of the eyeless body has also picked up pace.  Elias’s mouth dries and his heart thuds in his chest.  The bud of fear in the back of his skull blossoms into delicious panic.

The knife catches the limited light beautifully as it is raised into the air.

Jonah lets out a choked, terrified plea, pulling out a random horrific bit of information to lob into Martin’s skull like a brick - anything to weasel free of losing.  Peter claps his shoulder with a smug grin and mist clouds Jonah’s eyes.

“I win, Elias.”

“No! No no no no no...!”  Elias and Jonah’s bodies both hyperventilate, slightly off-beat with one another like there is a delay in the signal.

Elias feels Jonah being stabbed a moment after the knife slides between his ribs.  Jonah is howling with his throat, trying to claw out of Peter’s grasp like a wounded animal.  A bloodstain begins soaking through the shirt and vest adorning Elias’s body, right where Jonah’s has been stabbed.

Jonah’s grip on Elias body begins to go slack and Elias pushes to have his space back.  However, Jonah clings fervently to life, fighting the encroaching oblivion with every stuttered gasp and bloody cough.  Then, collapsed on the ground, clutching a wound in a stolen body, Jonah watches himself die.

Elias, for his part, gets the tiniest moment of pure nothing that he’d longed for before jolting back into consciousness.  He sits up, coughing up more blood in the middle of Peter talking.  Unconcerned with whatever he’s interrupted, he leans forward and taps the back of his skull to get Jonah’s eyes out.  Then he stands and squishes them like grapes beneath his shoe.  

For now, he is still warm, but a death pallor has already begun to settle in.  Blood continues oozing from the wound and marks the only bit of movement on his chest.  He is not breathing, though he flashes a languid smile and waves.

“Hey, nice to actually meet you guys; Jonah really did me a disservice, yeah?”