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 Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2012 4:28 pm
Quote: They could feel it. Even after they came back from the Isles, they came back home, there was still something wrong. Not a tangible voice but a chill, a creeping sensation that would not go away, something calling to them and disappearing the next second, something that threatened to jump out any second, something that lay hidden in plain sight that whispered inane promises, something that- - Drove the mind to the brink of instability. And while it was still subtle, while they were awake, the effects were still mild, it was another story altogether when they slept. For the world of dreams is entirely subconscious. The Loop You and one or several friends encounter and incident, and you can only watch in horror as they die before your eyes. You wake up, and relive the day again, understanding immediately what you must do: save them. You manage to avoid the first incident, but because of it, you inadvertently kill off another friend or make the situation worse as your friend simply falls for another incident and dies again. You wake up and relive the day every single time you try to change the timeline and fail, watching your friends die in different sequences. Their deaths get more and more gruesome. At long last you realize what the problem is: yourself. If you had not changed the timeline, things would not have gotten so out of hand. You have a choice either to kill your friends and put them out of their misery or to kill yourself. As you commit to this choice, you finally wake up, for real, perhaps to relive the same timeline again.
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Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2012 4:38 pm
Terrors in the night were nothing unusual or entirely unexpected for Ashford. Two months, now, this affliction had haunted him. Unnamed, lurking in the corners of his mind, swirling around him in a whirlwind of paranoia and rage and hate.
He had seen everything from Thackery's death to his own, the ruining of the school or the downfall of civilization as he knew it, bloomed in technicolour and written in blood.
But he was not dreaming, now.
Of course not.
It was just an ordinary day, the same as any other.
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Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2012 10:51 pm
They were in the library.
It was where they had first met, studying and writing for a project. Ashford: collected, calm and, entirely oblivious. Thackery: Sweet, eager, earnest, horrible at the selected subject.
Much time had passed, since then. Their romance was a quiet one. The reaper did not hesitate to shower the boy in affection, in his own way, but he was a recluse at best. Thackery was the butterfly, introducing Ashford to any and everyone he could, lips curving upwards in a gentle smile.
They were older, now.
Graduation was soon, and then a life after, together, a fact that they never spoke of.
Why would they need to? It was as simple as one plus one, as pure as raw FEAR, as true as Jack and Sally.
They sat across from each other in companionable silence, the smallest gestures brushing their hands together, feet sliding against one another's ankles under the table.
It was the smallest moments that Ashford cherished most, and--
What would follow would be impossible for the reaper to recant with accuracy. The world sped up and slowed down simultaneously, his senses distorted, his mind heady.
He would be able to detail the following:
The explosion was deafening.
Smoke clouded the world, roiling in thick and heady and hot.
Panic flooded his system as a natural response.
Everything originated from the back of the library.
A portal ripped open, a tear in the fabric of space, blackness alone on the other side of the tear.
Humans clad in the traditional white and gold of the Hunters.
His fear siphoned away, and he struggled to escape the ravenous hunger of their weapons cutting into him, falling upon both he and Thackery like a swarm of locusts.
Ash used his body to protect the demon, but--
A scythe through the heart from a black eyed Hunter, and without a cry or any reaction at all-- Thackery's life disappeared, his core shattered, his mind wiped clean.
His body dissipating.
It was a painless death.
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Posted: Sun Apr 29, 2012 12:21 am
Ashford awoke with a start, heart pounding, covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
Memories rushed back to him, unbidden, of flames and fire and dissipation--
And a sleepy boy crooned at him in his sleep, whining and yawning like a sleepy puppy.
Had it been just a dream? Ash smiled down at Thackery, pressing kisses to his face, insistent and desperate.
"Today," he murmured quietly, enunciating each word despite the hushed tone, "we are skipping the library."
"Really?" Thackery sat up, tail wagging and ears wiggling, bouncing a little. "Can we, can we?"
The blond laughed, pulling Thackery into his lap and sitting up in one swift motion. "I was thinking, perhaps," he said, taking the boil's hands into his own.
"We go look at appropriate living quarters for post graduation? So that we may select a suitable home."
Home. The word echoed strangely, hanging in the air, but the demon didn't seem to notice between his breathless laughter.
They went into town, exploring manor and apartment and home, to check on every possible estate.
They were downtown, now, where they would be near the night life and--
"Watch out!" a stranger cried, the sound of metal slicing flesh and gunshots ringing in the air.
Thackery was not so fortunate, today, to be dissipated. Instead, nets caught at them both, like they had in the trials so long ago, separating them, no matter how much he strained--
Ash used his blade to cut himself free. He was stronger, now, a creature to be feared--
An anguished cry, and Ashford's heart stopped.
He was free, now. With long strides, he ran to Thackery's side, pinpricks racing up his spine, summoning his mighty black wings, feathered and strong. Curling around the prone form, Ash clutched at his lover in vain as his core slowly faded away.
Blows and bullets shot through his wings, piercing the shadowed black haven he'd made for the two of them, the feeling of a blade hacking into his shoulders, their hands desperate to get on ThackeryThackeryThackery--
Black, bloodied feathers swirled in the air, floating into the wind above the chaos.
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Posted: Sun Apr 29, 2012 12:43 am
Another day.
Once more, Ash woke up in a horrible panic, clutching for Thackery--
Who was, yet again, sleeping beside him, curled up tight, a beacon of warmth.
He did not say a word, today. Instead, the reaper just ran a bare hand through black locks, shaking all the while.
When the boil finally stirred, yawning and sleepy, Ash nuzzled a nose against Thackery's face, an arm slung possessively around the Cerberus' slim waist.
"Let's stay in," he whispered with a smile, laughing low as violet eyes went from dazed to aroused.
So they did. A day together, warm and entertaining and--
Cut short.
A knock at the door, polite and swift, interrupted them.
Finding clothes with a brisk and efficient manner, Ash kissed Thackery's forehead as he answered the door.
"We are busy," he said, flatly, irritated to have a disturbance interrupt the day.
"That's of little concern to me," the woman in the door replied with a sneer, a clawed hand on her wrist. She had a Bogeyman outfit on, how strange, did they not usually announce themselves--
"Are you Thackery?" she asked with a drawl, blowing a gum bubble in his face. She had tall horns of red and gold, with chitinous grey skin and a mess of black hair, glasses with one lens blacked out.
"No."
"Well, you better bring him to me, hmmm?" She laughed, loud and shrill, showing her badge. "I've got a warrant and everything."
He did not budge.
Fool him once, shame on the world. Fool him twice, shame on himself.
But three times?
No, Ashford was not so dull. The muscular blond merely crossed his arms, standing his ground in front of the door. "I do not believe that will be necessary."
"Who is it?" an excited voice asked from within the room. Ash cursed, slamming the door closed and locking it in a panic. He rushed to Thackery, shaking him by the shoulders, eyes wilder than they'd been in years.
"We need to leave," he said, low and grave, forcing the window of his dorm open, glad for a second floor room, now. "Now. Questions later, get your clothes and we must abscond."
There's pounding at the door, howling and screams from the woman. She started beating at the door, and with his tail between his legs, Thack ran to Ash.
First, Ash dropped his Great Knife onto the ground below and followed shortly after, landing with a crunch he felt in his knees, offering his arms up to his boilfriend. "Now," he urged, voice frantic. "Now, now, now--"
Ash had been too slow. He heard a few soft plinks, something light hitting the ground, too soft to be footsteps, was it dice?
In horror, he watched as a blue guillotine was summoned, swallowing hoarsely as Thackery and his head were cleanly separated from each other.
With a sickening squelch, Ash watched as his boilfriend's head landed on the ground next to him, eyes frozen in horror, leaking blood at a sluggish rate.
With a horrified look, the Pyramid Head looked up at his enemy, who was now cackling with glee, and promptly--
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Posted: Sun Apr 29, 2012 1:25 am
[[ GORE WARNING. ]] Each day proved to be gruelling and horrific.
Every day, Ash woke up and dragged Thackery away, setting out in any direction, taking any risk to try and save the most precious thing in his possession.
Every day, he watched him die.
Every day, it grew worse.
When the first death had been painful to see, it had been instantaneous. There was a Thackery and then there was not, simple as could be.
The following days were rough. Today, the seventh, Ash was cradling a ruined Thackery to his chest, missing one arm and nursing an assortment of wounds.
Thackery had been torn to pieces, methodically, been given pumpkin pills while set aflame, with his legs caught under weights.
Ash had watched as the demon broke into pieces, mind shattering under the pain. Hours of healing followed by torture followed by healing.
With one arm, the reaper pressed a kiss to his beautiful boy's ruined face, heart breaking as the boy was motionless.
He was alive, sure.
But he was not living. His locks matted with blood, Thackery turned his face slightly upwards to Ash.
He tried to speak, but they had taken his tongue, and a few teeth for good measure.
"Shhh," he whispered brokenly, unable to cry.
He had none left, after a day's worth of weeping and begging, grovelling for Thackery to be let go.
Pleading. Offers of money, services, gifts. Anger. Demanding.
But no acceptance.
Never acceptance.
Thackery was so small, now, with legs cut off at the knees, a sad wreck and--
He mouthed words to Ash, his violet eyes dead.
'Kill me' he mouthed, wheezing wetly soon after, convulsing.
Ash swallowed, shaking his head, which just made the demon in his one arm quake. There were footsteps above them, belonging to a demonic doctor who had required subjects for his experiments.
It was poignant, in a way, that the doctor's FEAR was healing.
Looking down at the pitiful creature in his arms, who mouthed at him 'please, please, please' in a litany of silent pleads, Ash realized that this was no longer his boilfriend.
This was no longer a person, but a creature, his spirit broken.
If the man returned, then so would the pain. He knew it as surely as he knew the seasons. The doctor was not done with them, not yet. And while Thackery was stronger than anyone gave him credit for, even Ashford more often than not--
He was but a mortal.
And mortals bled.
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Posted: Sun Apr 29, 2012 1:33 am
Ash sobbed.
He pressed a kiss to Thackery's swollen face, and wrapped his hand around the boil's slender neck, caressing it one last time.
He tried to ignore the fact that it was marred with barely congealed wounds. With a wince, he tore open Thackery's wound on his belly, reaching upwards, grabbing the core that felt like a coal , torn in so many directions--
and pulled it free.
Ash watched with a leaden heart and a churning stomach as his boil began to dissipate one last time.
The only expression written on that figment of Thackery's face was relief.
He promptly leaned to the side and was sick.
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Posted: Sun Apr 29, 2012 1:41 am
Ash awoke.
For real, this time.
He was not set to graduate, Thackery was not there, and his room was the same dilapidated place it had been a year ago.
He was not free of this affliction that was cursing him blessing them.
He had to go find Thackery, to see him, to save him to find home--
Ashford wept, body quaking, the patches of grey stinging. He tore at them with his hands in a frantic move, frustrated by how often his mind seemed to swing from one extreme to the other, from rage to anxiety to utter loneliness. Even then, he felt himself at war with it, with the disease he did not know to call Insanity.
Clawing his biceps, the reaper struggled to peel back the skin with his nails, unsatisfied by the results.
The Great Knife was too large. He stumbled around his room, towards his broken window and, with a bare hand, broke another piece off.
This would do. He was manic, still shaking with the images and memories of Thackery dying over and over and overandoverandoverANDOVER--
Ash plunged the fragment into his thigh, blood welling up around it, eyes wild.
He was the problem.
It was him.
It was him, him himthemTHEM.
INSUFFICIENT.
INSUFFICIENT.
INSUFFICIENT.
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