“Throw him in the fire!” The shout energized him. If he died here, now - Eteri would die too. He could not let that happen. All along his visible skin, red bled out, threads wrapping around his body in a crimson tide, covering all of the pale flesh that had been there seconds before. An animalistic growl ripped from him - as he ripped his arms free of the men, flinging them to the sides with far more strength than his frame should have possessed. There were shocked gasps in the crowd - as Nevin disdained trying to move around, choosing the most direct route possible.
He leapt into the flames.
Stefan wrapped his arms around Eteri, pulling her in close, using her as a shield. His laughter crackled over the burning flames. “Yes… YES! This is a SHOW!”
The roaring flames burned, agony racing across his form. Nevin wasn’t feeling the fire with just one set of nerves - his threads felt too, and so the scorching heat raged across them as well, a double dose of pain. But This pain, what should have crippled, barely registered, in fact, didn’t register.
Because he was close enough. Ten feet now separated them, and his attention was already poised to act. As his feet raced across the fiery wood, the thread of fate shot forward, crashing through the oily sheen that tried to intercept it - and connected. Bright red warmth, an entirely different heat, raced through the connection, a brilliant light guiding him forward as he charged.
The fire in front of them swelled - and a fiery figure burst forth, the fire clinging to him as it burned along his flesh. Ropes of flame shot forward, bursting from his skin.
Stefan flung Eteri toward the fire, “Ah! You. YOU are the real work of art! What are you?” He took a step toward Nevin. “Writing, screaming in agony, body aflame and dripping in blood! I must have it. I MUST!”
The burning threads swirled through the air, shedding flames, revealing charred red threads. A net caught Eteri, saving her from the fire Nevin had just charged through, and almost contemptuously he ripped the collar away, tearing the fabric as his blazing eyes stabbed Stefan.
“I am the King of the Crimson Flow. You want blood, you want art? Then have it.” Threads arced through the air, shooting for the bastard. Nevin would grab him, fling him into the fire he had tried to use to make a show. The flames still wrapped around Nevin’s frame, but his threads were shivering rapidly, rubbing out the sources of the flame that clung to him.
Stefan had an almost euphoric grin on his face. He spread his arms out - and ropes and coils of threads pierced him - shoulders, hands, gut, legs, and through his chest. The man coughed, as Nevin twisted, swinging him up into the air, his threads straining with effort. Stefan coughed, blood dribbling from his mouth as he grinned, a bloody valentine smile, at Nevin.
“YES, YES! GLORIOUS! MAKE ME ART!” And Nevin obliged. He ripped his threads, still plunged into the madman, apart, sending a shower of blood across the room. Blood spray splattered across the guests, drenching their elegant clothes - but not a drop touched Nevin or Eteri. Any that might have come close to the man, cradling the blue-haired cat girl to his chest, turned into solid little pellets of blood that thudded into them, and were then brushed away with a disgusted expression on Nevin’s face.
He was not expecting the thunderous applause. He looked around, flames dying around him, Eteri laying cradled in his arms, and was dumbfounded to see that the gathered crowd were - they were cheering for him. Then, almost as if it didn’t matter that Stefan had perished, they bowed and began to leave, trickling out from the back of the crowd at first, then in greater numbers.
The show was done. The Red King had won against the Black, and now they had no reason to stay. So they didn’t. Nevin ignored them, instead focusing on his precious burden, hugging Eteri close to his chest, praying that she responded, that he hadn’t been too late.
“Eteri, honey, please, wake up, please honey, please stay with me. Honey, it’s Nevin, come on, open those pretty eyes.” Desperation in his voice, Nevin stroked Eteri’s scorched face, trying to cool her down, not actually processing that he was far warmer than she was right now.
“I need to be art.” She said, staring at the ceiling.
“Oh honey. Oh, honey. You’re gorgeous, just as you are. Stay with me.” Nevin tightened his arm around her, tears blurring his sight. Sure, he could kill the asshole, but - but his shitty magic, useless blood powers, they couldn’t help her. “You already were a work of art to me, honey.” He stood up, scooping her into his arms.
The men who had beaten him before had gotten to their feet, and were staring, dumbfounded at him. He leveled a hard glare on them. “Out of my way. Now. Or die.”
“O-of course, my Lord!” Well, that couldn’t be good. He shoved that concern out of his mind, and carried his precious burden out of this shithole.
