Catch.

[Jirai]

The dark elf simply went blank. She didn't move, and there was nothing in her eyes. It was proof that Suede was not the only one broken in the room.

Several moments passed before Jirai came back to herself and regarded the scene before her - Catch, and Suede lying on the floor. She said nothing, simply sauntered over to them with a casualness that was entirely feigned, reaching out with one booted foot to prod the tailor.

[catch]

Images of death, images of violence, images that would drive any sane man mad, on top of the ultimate sensation of one's own death. Mad as he was, Catch was not unaffected. He struggled like a mouse in the blood-snake's crushing grip, flinching like hot iron at sea-spray and gore, wept and railed and fluttered, a sparrow caught in an abandoned house, left to starve in they grey dust of it's barren tomb.

Until the vicious, visceral crack.

Suede slipped through his nerveless fingers. The tailor did not seem so weaselish, now, but had taken on a new aspect of horror, so that - while Catch's eyes, too, were blank - they had a need to wander away. Catch turned callously from the fallen tailor, not bothering to wipe away the foam that gathered at the corner of his lips, the spatter of tears across his cheeks.

With the jerked movements of a poorly-controlled puppet, the addled man sat back in his seat, the wood creaking and singing under his weight, and Catch simply listened to it's agony tune.

[Suede]

He had apparently forgone breathing altogether when he stopped screaming, and it was Jirai's ever so delicate nudge which spurted him back into life with massive gasping of air. His eyes were still pinned wide towards the ceiling, his expression still wide with shock and confusion.

One had snapped out reflexively to attempt to wrap around the offending ankle, in part to stop the nudging, in another part to have something to hold onto, since the floor seemed to be moving an awful lot.

Suede was at least putting significant thought into throwing up. No recognition was given for Catch or what the poor, addled fool had seen. Some minds were best left unvisited, especially when fears were abound within them. The tailor wasn't even entirely aware of what the man had seen, a disconcerting notion. Nor was he certain he wanted to know.

[Jirai]

Well, he was breathing. That was a positive sign, right? The dark elf folded arms across her chest, staring down at the hand wrapped around her booted foot. "Well?" She questioned rather snidely, the word aimed at either man - though she was not entirely sure that either of them would be up to providing her an answer.

[catch]

Catch was beyond answering, though his great, pale-and-shadow eyes turned slowly to the drowess, set in the black hollows of his face. His cracked lips pull into a disturbed, insane smile, and he croons, gaze flickering to Suede, as if the words were meant for the tailor.

"Crows and butterflies, picking out his eyes. Poor little lamby."

[Suede]

Crows and butterflies picking out his eyes, that sounded about right. Glassy eyes attempted to focus on the drow, but when he opened his mouth to speak it wasn't just words that came out of his mouth, and he released her foot in order to turn away and vomit up what little food his stomach had held onto the floor. He was coherent enough to make sure it didn't land on Jirai.

Through gasping dry heaves he was able to mumble out a weak response that seemed to be a mixture between curses and a muttering about being too nauseous to tell much else.

[Jirai]

It was well enough that he'd turned away so as not to vomit on her. She'd not have been pleased. Not that she was particularly pleased in any case, a scowl prominently featured on her face.

"Crows and butterflies?" She growled at the crazy man. "What's that supposed to mean?" Useless, questioning Catch like that. It made her feel a bit better though.

Dark eyes darted back down to the retching tailor at her feet. "Are you quite finished?" She snapped.

[catch]

It was, indeed, a fruitless question; Catch was far too interested in watching Ser Suede empty his body of his bowels, kidneys and intestines, spine and lungs, and all sorts of other distasteful things swimming about in the bile, visible only to his own fevered, dull eyes. He wondered, idly, how Suede continued to go on living, while most of him was spread out on the floor. And spread out in his own brains.

[Suede]

He waited for the shudders to pass before he worked up a mouthful of spit and swished it about. With a thick thwack he spat it onto the floor amidst his dinner and rolled back over to stare up at Jirai.

"I think so, not much left in there to come out and say hi, Qu'essan." The tailor sounded slightly distant, and perhaps this was why he seemed not to mind that he'd thrown up all his organs by Catch's estimations. After a moment his brow furrowed downward in confusion, he was having a tough time sorting out exactly what was going on and his body seemed quite content to run on auto-pilot.

[Jirai]

It was a good thing that Suede hadn't said much more than that, because the dark elf had blanked out again - anything more would have been missed.

It was almost a minute before she responded at all.

"Good," she grated, spinning abruptly on one booted heel and striding for the door.