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 Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 11:30 am
It did not matter where the Hermit was previously or what he was doing. What mattered was that he was not there anymore.
Merope took a step back involuntarily. There was something about it that lulled him into a sense of security, shattered by the presence of the pyre. This wasn't his place. This wasn't familiar. Who was she?
She was fading. "If all paths lead to the same end, then what is the point?" He shouted, "What use is guidance if we are all going the same direction?"
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 1:28 pm
The scenery changed, and Amrita was stunned. She was on her way back to her Kingdom, and wasn't in the best of shapes. The Shadow wasn't whole; parts of her pitch black body were singed with a sickly grey, particularly her arms, hands, throat and chin. She had been about to throw her flowers into the pool when the vision overtook her, too real to ignore. The light from the pyre was almost burning, and her glowing yellow eyes had to blink in order to adjust to it, even then it was just enough to acknowledge those around her. Shapes she didn't recognize, and yet felt familiar...and of course, the shapes that were both.
She wasn't one to discredit guidance, though she did acknowledge that it was partially true, one didn't really need it if you knew your path, but in her opinion, it never hurt to hear it. She had a hard time focusing on the woman, the image blurring so bad that she had to squint, though she forced her glowing yellow eyes open, fearing that blinking would make her vanish.
"I too, accept your Guidance. For myself and for my Kingdom. Please, help me ." She urged the figure with a small bow, seeing no danger in listening to a mysterious mystic. If it was true that the end result would be the same, then it wouldn't hurt to find a different course, or a hint, to change it.
Whether or not it would be for the better was the question, and while you could always listen to guidance offered, you didn't have to accept or follow it.
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 1:43 pm
Last he remembered was a fluttering as his eyes closed, as they opened into another world where they had not been just a moment before. He stood there amongst a few he knew, but many he did not. Some shrouded in shadows and others standing full. If not for these things, the kitsune would have all but assumed that this was just another memory of his, another story to add to his own tale.
The pyre was enough to gain his attention, his ears listening at the many replies to the words the mysterious woman had said, the own gears in his head moving.
The thing that scared him the most about this turn of events, was that he was not afraid. Of the woman, nor the people surrounding her.
"I will accept guidance only as long as it helps my King and my kingdoms people." Looking towards Henry when he said it. Remis own feelings on the matters of guidance were the same as his. He looked towards Tomoko next, wondering about this Legacy she spoke of. They also traveled to Erebus, hoping his thought of their doom was false." Though Remi was a protective... he was even slightly selfish. His reasonings for wanting the guidance were pure, he wanted to keep his kingdom alive, but he also wanted something else.
He did not want to leave. He did not want to fail as their Queen.
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 4:04 pm
The flickering yellows and oranges of the flames, Lan looked to them, tracing the shadows they cast momentarily. The woman, she was important, and she could aid them. Would. the flicker of a face that didn't match the voice and Lan hesitated.
Yet-
This was alright.
This was okay.
"Guidance." She was the advisor, so to gain such a thing, to offer it.... "I will listen to what you might offer us." All paths lead to the same end.
"Which path then might lead us to the golden throne if I might ask? Though the end might be the same for all, there are other things one might encounter before such a time."
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iStoleYurVamps
iStoleYurVamps
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 6:43 pm
"I'm fine I jus-" Julian's eyes widened as he suddenly found that he was not where he had been a moment before. He'd been... He'd been talking to Sin and Belladonna. Belladonna had been hurt, they both had been. That was something that definitely made him feel horrible, at least to a certain degree. He was growing to hate this endeavor, mostly because he had started seeing too much injury around him and he could do nothing to help prevent it. Belladonna and Sin had been sent somewhere else. Worst of all, to the Silver Tower he'd been sent and he'd been unable to find anyone besides Alexei. And that hadn't gone well at all.
He was failing as the protector he was supposed to be.
Being here, in this place made him uneasy. He needed to get back home, he needed to help, he needed to-
The firelight finally caught his attention and his worries, his over-thinking ceased. He just swallowed slowly and tried to understand the figure that addressed the room. He didn't even notice anyone else until she spoke.
Guidance, paths... That was how it was, sometimes, at least how he understood it. All paths always ended at the... same... place.
Did the figure mean... Could all the paths set down by the kingdoms have the same ending? It wasn't a good proposition.
Other voice spoke out, he was relieved to see Belladonna there and seemingly fine. He heard other voices and questions, many of them selfish. Yes, he wanted Om to survive, even for his king to take the thrown as ruler of all. But at the cost of the lives of others, at destroying their homes? He didn't want that to happen to him, how could he be happy knowing that would happen to someone else?
A question caught his attention. The survival of all...
"I do seek guidance." The memory of the crumbling tower, of Sigrun and her fellows from Silver, of the bleak, empty streets of the once bustling city. His hands curled.
"Is there path, an end not littered with destruction?"
((Gotta say, this is rather Supernatural-esque, at least with how things are going right now on the show. XD))
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 7:19 pm
Sophie glanced around. Where was she? She remembered falling asleep just moments before. Sleep had come quickly but she was exhausted and had thought nothing of it. This was a dream, then. But there was something different about it. Something that felt off.. Then the voice came and Sophie had a chance to ask the one question she'd been wondering since this whole thing started.
"Were you once a King?"
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 8:46 pm
The smile was a little sad. "Your intentions and your wishes contradict each other, I can offer you one, but the other you will have to find on your own." The figure faded, a little more transparent. Almost everything was a thick white smoke, outlines in grey shapes. "I am but a fragment in this world, I was pulled by one who would have been crown King in this world, and placed in their role as the Silver King. In the catacombs of the old Silver Kingdom tower lies the gate, your entryway, your choice. I am afraid that is the extent of my power in this world you have been pulled from by-"
Static. It sounded like someone was yammering at them from the opposite end as the dream pulled further, as their reality began to kick in a bit more before the feeling was yanked back, the figure persisting. For now. "-'s power is strong. I will speak quickly. You are not from this world. You are- no. I will show you."
She raised a hand, just as the pyre turned a blazing orange and-
*
-"Absolutely not!" Came a voice, familiar to many students. The images were sharper now, clearer. A small ice demon of a secretary pushed himself into Medea's tent. The Head Priestess intercepted Arel, and several other Amityville staff members. The secretary looked about as impressed as a puffed up phoenix hatchling. "Now see here Medea, look what your - your antics have brought upon our students, I will have none of it, I mean it! You bring them back from- from your Trance thing, or whatever it is. Our school has a reputation to hold!"
The Head Priestess turned momentarily from the flickering pyre to give Arel a cryptic look. "If you speak of those students sleeping, it is none of my doing, or undoing. They have been chosen, but a force beyond my ability."
"Well then, help un-choose them or something! There are news reports already of-"
-"It is beyond my ability, but I will still assist," Medea continued. "As some of my own children have fallen ill, it is of great importance to me to find them as well. The Veil however, is not so easily broken, not with a powerful artifact being used." She paused, staring deeply into the dark blue flames. "This Miasma.. I wonder... ah yes, I see." The Head Priestess snapped to awareness, gesturing for the two apprehensive horsemen at the tent entrance. "Find me honourable warriors, I will need but a hand's score. They must be kinsmen with - ."
Arel folded and then unfolded his scarf. "I don't see how that's going to help-"
"Your children are asleep." Medea interrupted, for the second, or perhaps third time. "They have been forced asleep by -, the ones that - has personally chosen in -'s claws alone. They cannot be easily extracted, and there is but two options. The first is to defeat - themselves, which is beyond my power and ability, or of many except the oldest Ancients of this world, and the second to enter the dream - has created and forcefully wake them up by calling their memories. A friend. A close ally, a kinsman. Only those will truly wake those lodged deeply in slumber."
"Then, they are all sleeping." The secretary relaxed a little bit. "So it's a little like having an experience with a nightmare demon then, they just sleep and we have to wake them up? Why didn't you say it was that easy?"
"Easy?" Medea paused. "No, more seemingly dangerous. This is not a dream, this is a torn world, in a way even Trance cannot fathom. A world summoned by -, created in their likeliness, puppets set across the playing board. They sleep eternally, statues, trapped in their own memories and the corrupted -'s fancies. From their cores the - pulls out a copy of them, and promises them everything, and names them King. False memories, a false being, a false sense of self. Everything is orchestrated by - while the true spirits sleep eternally - feeding on them, repeating itself, as it has done, as it will always do until the sleeping victims perish from imprisonment from their own false memories."
Arel's mouth paused in a comical "O". He struggled, spluttered for a second to say something meaningful, gesturing a bit before turning around to another staff member, as if telling them 'Well, do something'.
Medea smiled. "If you fear for your students, I see you have already summoned help of your own."
"What are you talking abo-"
The Head Priestessgestured, as the Horsemen who had been called brought together several Horsemen, those close to -, and a horde of familiar faces. Students. Them. It was them, and it was not, it pulled to them as the memory of them not being so pulled at the same time-
Arel looked mad. "What are you doing here! Get back to Amityville right now or I'll give you all detention and-"
"They will do," Medea nodded amicably, gesturing towards the students. Those who were watching the memory itself. "You will help save your own friends, will you not? It is within my power to send those closest to the fallen into the same state. Unlike the first fallen, you will not become a replica memory created from -, but instead, remain yourselves. As long as you are strong, you will continue to remain yourselves. You have the power within you to save them. Find the false Kings that bear the image as your friends, and defeat them. Only then will your trapped friends reveal themselves, their location of slumber. Bring them back through the Silver Gate. There is little time, and though everything created inside is fabricated from -, it is also woven, stolen from those sleeping. Do not doubt who you are inside, but remember your path in this world. Defeat the Kings who steal the memories of your friends to find and awaken the true sleepers. This is the path you must walk if you wish to see them return."
In the distance, they could hear Arel yelling at Medea, but everything was getting fuzzy, blurry. Briefly, they could smell a familiar scent, the burning, thick fragrance of incense, the pyre turning a deep orange and then-
*
The dream shook again, not the real dream but the fake one, where Medea stood, where she seemed to ward her Fear against an invisible force pounding in. "The remaining Silver Gate entrance lies at the borders of the battlefield, to the northwest, where the Voice discards all their fabricated memories. The entrance is scattered but not impossible. But the power of the Kings is-"
Everything cut off, returning back to normal before she could finish her sentence. Something roared in their ears, angrily, a rush of seething, ugly void, and then nothing else. OOC ALL PLAYERS WHO WERE QUOTED HERE:- Feel free to write a reaction post to all this before you EXIT! You can now also update your rps (from now onwards) with correct responses to everything as you see fit - as well as communicate with each other - anyone in this thread since you all saw each other before you went into this world. - You have finally woken up from this haze. The first thing you realize is who you are. No, not your dream selves, not of this Miasma or strange distorted world, but who you were prior. A student. A Lost Clansman. You remember names. Medea. Arel. Amityville. Saving your friends. There is only one thing the 'fallen' could be and that is the rumour you last heard, as the School Secretary wandered around whispering something about sick students, as they wandered to Medea's tent and you followed. (OOC: Basically, the setup as to how you got here is GM'ed. Your student followed Arel to Medea's tent and overheard this conversation. They then went in to rescue their friends). - The sick students. The ones who had fallen into a coma, and rumour was it, the ones who would not wake up. News traveled fast about them, spreading throughout the school of their affliction. - As the pieces finally assemble together, so does a very jarring understanding. You know exactly what you must do now: exactly as Medea said. Defeat the Kings. Defeat who you once, before you woke up, pledged to. Defeat Kings and those who stand in your way, that are nothing but made-up memories that this Voice has created. You feel sick, you feel torn in half, conflicted. Maybe this wasn't real, and yet as you try to think back and remember the world of Miasma, everything calling to you of this world seems false. No the most important thing is that you must rescue your friends at all costs. After all, everything here is just a false memory, and that past you, that Miasma-you, was as well too. - As you wake up, you see a strange imprint stamped onto your hand or arm. It glows a deep white and is shaped like a flower. (OOC: Instead of dying in battle, your character simple respawns from the Silver Gate (to be announced location, keep an eye out for it!)). - HOWEVER, since Medea has literally, only sent these selected characters into this area, that means every other character is just a fake memory fragment created by the Voice INCLUDING the Kings. Everyone else is fake. Everyone else must be taken out, faction or no faction, at all costs. How does it feel to have the weight of consequences in your hands, for you who once pledged everything to in your fit of false memory? - How does it feel to be the only ones who will remember this and ever know what truly happened. - Once again, ONLY QUOTED CHARACTERS BELOW ARE AFFECTED.
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 9:09 pm
Not of this world? What the hell did she mean? Well. He was soon shown. Everything. At first he was confused. Very confused. What did this all mean? But slowly, everything became more and more clear to Shun. They... were sent here to free their friends?
What friends and loved ones? Weren't those just those in their kingdoms?
...
No.
There were no kingdoms. Not in reality. Shun could remember this now. He wasn't a trainer. Or a former assassin. No. He was still in school. Amityville. It was all coming back to him. Looking around, he saw the others who were here to save their friends and such. They were like him. Everyone else...
And just like that, this dream within a dream was done.
((Exit))
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 9:17 pm
The dream ended, and Henry's existence ended not with a bang, but with a whimper. There was only Ashford left, Henry Ashford Charles the Third, second year student Amityville Academy, boilfriend of Thackery, survivor of insanity, a reaper of Pyramidkind, a disgrace to his race and a disgrace to his name and--
Ash reeled from the implications, wheezing, sinking to his knees. Thackery, stricken, ill. Asleep in a way that the ancient gods dreamed of, hurt in a way no medicine or magic or fear could heal. He thought of his memories, the false ones, implanted into his mind by this abomination called The Voice. Thackery, who he had loved as Ash the blacksmith, simple man of a simple life earning a simple keep. Ash the coma-stricken, fallen sick and trapped in a world of meandering dreams, tinged in violet and powered by a false idolatry. Meeting a king who kept more keys than he could count, in a world of peaceful hope and adoration, endless, bountiful, plenty. There was only a feast, never a famine.
The false memory of falling in love, with that king, across time and across universe. The false memory of waking up alone, living life as Ash the blacksmith in a world not his own.
The false memory of a king slaying his most beloved subject, who had escaped the realm of death to return to a mockery of life. A sweet fruit, pomegranate with poisoned seeds, and the false Ash had swallowed them down and perished. A King possessed so fiercely by obsession, by adoration, by love that he had done the unthinkable to Ash. That Ash had returned without his memories to a realm of the dead, oblivious, circling around his King in a dance never to be completed. He had taken on the name Henry, shed his strength and bulk and size and fangs and fear to become someone so different and yet still the same.
This Thackery, the one both Ash and Henry had fallen in love with, had known for a lifetime or two or three or seven, had laughed and smiled and maintained a tranquil space for the dead--
This Thackery was not real.
A newly awakened Ashford stood. His features had all returned, the false-key on his arm intricate in a way no other resident of Tartarus' would be, save for the others who regained their memories. There was a new marking, then, a bright white flower across the back of his hand, its petals touching the edge of his key, a violent contrast of black and white. His strength had returned, his bulk, the razor-sharp edge of teeth more befitting of a shark.
This Ashford stood, teeth clenched, anger seething in his belly like a coiled serpent. This Voice had taken what one thing Ash treasured: this Voice had taken everything and more, injecting its own venomous lies, replacement memories made to placate and soothe its captors.
He would not be a piece of this game any longer. He would not be a pawn-- would not be a knight-- for the sake of what he loved. The memories were sharp and bitter, a sickly mire tainting his mind. They were not the candy-floss memories of time in Tartarus, in the realm of the dead the false Thackery resided in and ruled over. They were not the misty hope of a time long since passed.
These memories burned worse than any dragon-flame, and chilled Ashford to the bone more than the thought of a decimated core. They hurt, they burned, they awoke a rage in Ash he had never known in his right mind, ferocious as the hatred from a rampage driven by Insanity.
Ash smiled, and it was fragile like cracking glass and doubly dangerous, viciously sharp around the edges. A crazed gleam shone in his green eyes, a bloodlust in his veins flared by loss.
The Voice had taken Thackery, and he would do everything to get him back.
[ exit ]
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 9:20 pm
She was still lying on the ground, prostrated completely in submission, when the vision came to her. She watched it, her face filled with complete shock, until she came. She saw the color, but nothing else of herself. Dressed in black, far too much showing, and the expression of utter vile hatred on her face -
On her face.
Riley stood up, sick of being on her knees. She brushed herself off, and looked at what she'd been given to work with. She caught sight of Shun just before the world turned to black, and she knew one thing for certain. Whoever was doing this had just made some very dangerous enemies.
((exito))
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 9:31 pm
Intentions? Wishes? Nevena haughtily tossed her head, opening her mouth to strike down the impudence of this not-woman. The static made her clap her hands to her head, trying to block out the white noise to no avail. "You do not speak sense!" She shouted, and her hair lashed about, feeding on her outrage. "Whose power?! I am myself, and no other!" The flames suddenly roared, and she could see nothing but the bright orange swallowing up everything in sight.
Nevena's consciousness swam, and she was lost.
Medea. Arel. Names she recognized, respected to a degree. Students? Who were students? The memories rattled on, wrapping around her and threatening to drown her before she could make sense of them all.
Sleep. Some unnameable force that had them carefully pinned with each, clever claw, toying with their very essence. She wanted to scream, vocalize her rage until her lungs burst from the pressure. She was silent, her throat straining uselessly as she continued to watch the inevitable truth unfold.
Just like that, it was over, and the Shadow swayed before she fell to all fours. Her breath came in hoarse, shallow gasps, her entire body trembling with something that might very well have been fear. A lie. All a lie. She was a gorgon, a student at Amityville Academy—one of three sisters!
With a shriek, she surged to her feet, her hands seizing fistfuls of her snake hair and threatening to tear it straight out. How dare they. They’d ensnared her, left her a blind and sniveling wretch, serving some King who wasn’t a King at all! And worst of all, she’d believed it with her heart and soul. Her fangs bared themselves in a truly terrible hiss, and Nevena’s eyes blazed with a promise of retribution.
No more. No longer would she play the simpering Hierophant, working to fight a war that did not even exist. She would do what she had come here for and rescue these poor, comatose fools, but then the one responsible for this madness?
They would suffer.
[[EXIT.]]
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 9:42 pm
The vision was over and Amrita - the real Amrita - was reeling.
The Black Kingdom's Queen, The Eldritch Advisor, The Moon; all were different faces of the same person, and that person both did and did not exist. The Amrita in that Black Kingdom was a farce. The truth behind it was clear now; she was meddling in an attempt to save her friends, and didn't get pulled into the truth in time. She had made connections and memories, friends and allies, and sworn alliances on her very life...to almost literal shadows. Creatures who weren't real, but mimed and pretended. Not only that, those who fed on the real ones. The ones she loved.
Aymet.
Aymet was one of the sick ones. He was one of the ones who wouldn't wake up; he was her entire reason for being here - rather there, in that Tent - She wanted to save him. Needed to save him. He who was one of her closest friends. Everything came rushing back in that instant, followed shortly by the rush of realization so powerful it spawned a wave of nausea. It was so intense she sank to her knees, holding her stomach with one hand and her mouth with the other.
This new dream faded as suddenly as it had come.
((EXIT))
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iStoleYurVamps
iStoleYurVamps
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 9:47 pm
Her intentions and wishes would naturally contradict others. They were of other kingdoms, other inferior places. The figure was fading fast and Lan smirked. Good, she had more important things to deal with. And- And....
What she was saying made no sense. This was a hallucination. Perhaps a spell? Woven by those wishing to kill them and weaken the kingdom and-
The flicker of flames, Lan sucked in breath as the images became more vivid, more.. real almost. Slowly, the reality, the situation sunk in. It all did. The reality that she was in was fake. That was her home, that was her reality. She was no advisor.
Mengyao was certainly no emperor.
Over her dead body, (quite literally if he ever sought it out really).
Dragged back to the fals reality she cught sight of the others with her.
Shaheen.
Kiwi.
Lifen.
All of them, they had been. In that moment she felt dread. Kill Mengyao. False of not- This was what they had to do. They had been sent in to do this. It was all they could do.
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 9:48 pm
He was skeptical at first, but he was in downright disbelief at this point. NOT of this world? What bullshit was that? He remembered his past self, he remembered his dead self, he was HIM. Only as he was about to make certain that this other knew, raising a arm in anger and opening his mouth about to yell words of treason...
Was when the vision hit.
And then suddenly there was no room for error, not even the barest breath of denial. His mouth suddenly felt dry, his eyes wet; tears silently falling down his face in a never ending river. He remembered, he remembered it all. Medea had risked coming in here to show them, to teach them that no...this world of kings and of courts was not real. The professors had tried to help, worried for them. They wanted them all back from this land of lies and fake memories.
Though that was not what made his tears flow. It was the knowledge and remembrance of the memories of this world. Of the life that he had here, piggybacking someone else's memories and actions. He made friends, had enemies, lived life to the fullest. He remembered the same bits and pieces of the pre-death self, of how he was tortured and a slave all the way up until his death. How he had to work for anything he wanted, be it selling his body or not. He remembered exactly when he had fallen deeply in love with their King, someone that his real self knew in the real world. That was not all though, because the other self had fallen for another around the same time. Poor awkward Henry, always hiding away in his blacksmithing hole and making keys of all things. Memories of how they never understood the feelings, and how he patiently bided his time. Never leaving the kingdom for fear of never seeing them again.
The memories mingling with his own, knowing that one side of this tainted coin was fake. Knowing that this....voice, had done this to them all. Hurt his friends, hurt HIM as a person.
That was made his heart clench, and the tears flow. The knowledge that these bonds, while not made by him, would need to be severed... as they were forced to Murder those they loved.
[Exit]
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 9:50 pm
All paths lead to the same end.
Tomoko's arms jerked visibly, cradling her arms up into her chest defensively as the woman looked towards them. She didn't know her, she didn't feel familiar and yet there was undeniably a sense that she'd met her somewhere, once upon a time.
"Who-"'s power? What are you talking about? She started forming the words, and yet it seemed as though she was unable to get them out before the images of someone that did have stinging familiarity to her began to speak. Make demands - and they were there too. Tomoko felt the sudden weight like a thousand bricks sink into her, the kitsune slowly dropping to her knees, her hand reaching out instinctively (was it her own or the dreams, though?) to grab Erebus' as she sat, the box she'd been cradling tumbled out of her arm, the key she clutched fell with it and she clutched her chest.
Panting, it took her several moments to mentally crack through the seams. Of course, she should have seen them. Her eyes had always been able to distinguish the real and the false, and as she picked apart the cracks, pulling pieces off, she could see where things overlapped. The sacrifice of oneself to save another - not sister, but best friend. The wound in her head - the cracked ball of stars. The Speaker of Bright Stars - Her name, her truest of true names. She'd never spoken it to anybody that was not family. The golden apples - a story that she'd been told once about a kitsune in the underworld. Erebus - well, he was Erebus, and it brought her great comfort to know that even in dreams, in falsified lives they had found each other. Even Remi's presence soothed her greatly. Rival clans or not, she'd grown to hold a fondness for him.
But that was the only 'relief' she was going to get. So many faces she recognized - Jack, Sparrow, Jove - False. They were not those she knew. Did they come from their minds, or those of the Voice?
Like Henr- no, his name was Ash, wasn't it - the key on her arm had bloomed majestically, a mix of false memories - golden apples, a soul eating creature, the night sky- and those which were real - a land of trees and rocks, an angry torrent of water. All radiating around a single cluster of stars. The sky which reflected the 'earth' in the flower that bloomed across the back of her hand.
Yet with all of the understanding came so much responsibility. Responsibility that she'd been unable to fathom, to fully grasp even when she was not herself - when she was a bolder, braver, and more deserving kitsune. Not when she was Tomoko who was still trying to understand the hate of her clan, had barely made it to year 3 of school, and found every day that she was struggling more and more with what she wanted out of life. Tomoko, who could barely take care of herself.
And yet, she'd pledged allegiance to a false king. She knew a true king - gentle, loving, may have collected far too many kitsunes for his own good, and yet it was charming. Every ounce of her Thackkun was both like and very much unlike this king of the underworld. But he wasn't her King of Keys. He wouldn't be the one who sat and made paper crafts with her, sat and drew with her, went out on walks with their bakekitsunes together......
She contained a miserable sniffle, squeezing Erebus' hand as she slowly pulled herself up to her feet, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. If there was one thing she needed to steal back from the falseness, the image of herself, it would be bravery.
If the false-Tomoko could save someone, then the real one was long overdue stepping up to the plate.[[Exitting when Erebus does.]] Melodine Cantus SINCE TOMOKO LIFELINED HIS HAND.
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