How she had fallen asleep was beyond her. But apparently she had, and during that nap she had regained her student form. Jack dam though it was freezing! Pokerus hugged herself, shivering as a strange sensation gnawed at her mind. A itch she couldn't quite scratch, and it was annoying as heck. It was as if someone had entered her mind.
And it appeared someone had. For a voice ringed through her head, the dragon grabbed her head in agony, losing consciousness for the briefest of moments. It was enough for her to find herself somewhere different, a deep thumping nearby.
Suddenly a sharp pain laced through her leg, the dragon ghoul hissing in pain. Vines had snaked it's way up the limb, thorns digging through clothing and into flesh. Soon she was dragged away, and no amount of thrashing would dislodge the vines.
A humming inside her mind grew in volume, making it hard to concentrate. She could feel her sense of being slipping away, but she struggled on to escape the clutches of the vines, until her consciousness was consumed by the larger being.
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 5:10 am
[Dream Scenario: BLUE DOOR]
Woah, there were so many memories here. Simple ones of him enjoying life to it's fullest, surfing, biking, hanging out with friends, fixing various automobiles, each of them were precious, even the bad ones. For they were proof that he had lived.
His memories began to form things. Doorways, each leading to a different place. The ones he was concerned with were three doors, each holding a intricate symbol. He had never seen doors like these before.
Curious, Aaran's hands reached out for the blue door.
He was thrown into a world of ocean blue and many islands, many of them desolate. He was a god, and yet even with his powers he was unable to stop the world from destroying itself. The people warred with each other, destroying not only themselves but the world itself, leaving only a few places left inhabitable. Now it was just a waiting game for the rest of them to perish.
Aaran looked away from it all, growing numb from the whole futility of it all.
When he looked back, he found the world had vanished, and in it's place sat three more doors to pick.
He looked at each of them before choosing the violet door, wondering what this one would show him.
The world Aaran saw here was different. He wasn't a god this time, yet he was there to help everyone. He had much wisdom and kindness to give to those who asked for it. And many people did. From women and children, to priests, to beggars, thieves, murders, tyrants, he helped anyone who desired it. It didn't matter what they were, he would assist them.
Soon everyone began to hate them. He didn't understand why, hadn't he helped them? His only response was to give more, tell them the things they wanted to hear, but it was never enough. Everyone wanted him to help, and every time he did they would all despise him, calling him a traitor for doing the thing he was supposed to do.
In the end, when he had been disposed off, a quick knife to the back, he still didn't understand why they hated him so.
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 5:25 am
[ DREAM SCENARIO: BLUE DOOR ]
She dreamt, or maybe she remembered - Sylvi wasn't sure. There were memories replaying that she was sure were actual memories but then there were also things that seemed fuzzier, less the clear remembrance of something that'd passed and more the shabbily put together feel of a dream you'd shaped yourself.
The dreams led her through everything that'd happened, her life before and after Day Zero, filled in where there were blanks and didn't spare her any embarrassments.
At least for a while; then the dreams became more abstract, until they were less of memories and more actual dreams, convoluted and nonsense all in one.
And then they changed shape again, becoming doors in her dreamscape, three different ones - one black, one blue, one white.
They looked quite imposing, she thought as she waited for a while for something else to happen.
Nothing else did though and eventually she had to concede that she'd probably have to choose a door.
So she did - blue was a nice colour, right? Sylvi cracked open the door, stepped in -
- and was swept away.
Everything changed. Her mindscape conjured a verdant green world, dotted by medieval cities and kingdoms, creatures beyond imagination and ruled by many people of fantastical races - elves, humans, orcs. She looked at it and felt the pride of knowing she'd helped make this, she'd helped create this.
At least for a while. The people had fought since the beginning, but the wars became larger and more all-consuming, their weapons evermore destructive. They were laying swathes of land to waste, no matter what or who lived there - and they would not listen to reason, would not stop. There was so much hatred and she could not stem the tide -
- but she tried, helping and lending her favours to those would try to stop it. It was such a futile thing though as the world slowly killed itself in its obsession with war.
She was helpless. Sylvi wanted to help, but who? Where? She wanted to help them all but to help one was to kill another and the helplessness tore her apart.
Maybe this was her failing, something she had gotten intrinsically wrong. Her heart was heavy until eventually it grew numb from sorrow. Still she waited and watched and hoped, maybe -
- the dream shattered.
Victim
[ Infection Rate ]: 0 /100 Character's name: Sylvi Ravnholt Character's faction: Prison Character's journal link:Link Character's survival stats: Stats BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Toned and athletic without being super buff, 177cm tall, wider than average hips, small to medium boobs. More bottom heavy than top heavy. reference
Ephebe
Offline
Baneful Crew
Dramatic Hunter
Offline
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 5:25 am
[VICTIMS POV - White door]
Gilda's dreams were always a jumble of chaos, memories that were often less than pleasant and decisions that were less than good. She should have been more than she was, she should have lived more than she had, all of this and more was something she found herself dealing with, interspersed with the absurd and symbolic. She remembered the first news reports, she remembers trying to continue with life anyway. She remembered the end. She remembered Ras.
She was wandering the endless halls of the prison door upon door upon door, all with their veiwports closed, completely and utterly silent and deserted. She walked and walked until a set of three doors took her attention, abnormal and strange for the prison, black blue and white respectively with strange emblems scratched into them like graffiti.
She eyed them each in turn, and took the white door, the door that to her seemed to resonate with sterility and scientific cleanliness, neatness and order. It felt like the things she had wanted the most before any hope for any of them had somehow slid out of reach. Opening it she found herself pulled in and drawn downwards, falling and falling down a blank white corridor that plummeted downwards, strangely and abstractly reminded of a water flume at a park her family had attended decades? before? She wasn't sure, time was strange, was it just a moment ago, was it now?
She hit the floor and in the roar of water and bubbles she faded to white.
When she woke, she was in a cell, a cell that was pristine white and she knew she had been here for as long as she could remember. Every corner was familiar and the smell of the bed and bleached floor was ingrained into her mind. She'd been here for ever and so she would be for ever more. It was no better than she deserved and once again she drifted.
"Gilda!"
The the voice was a welcome intrusion on her unchanging and sterile world and when she looked up, there was a smiling face at the viewport of the cell, a face she knew as well as her own. And how strange a delight it was to see him smile she realised then, aware that it was a privilege that was afforded primarily to her. "Ras." she said and looked away, almost guilty to be seen this way, the dreamworld shrinking and curling around her shame. She was supposed to be in control, this was all wrong, all wrong.
"Doctor." he said and the respect in that single word stopped the cell from collapsing to a pinprick, relaxing once again back to its reasonable dimensions. "I've come to set you free." he said. "We can both be free, no one will remember we were ever here." It was hope, a slim and fragile hope that made her rise to her bare feet. A chance to start again. The door opened and beyond it was Ras, arms outstretched. She went to him and around her the world rearranged, in an instant she was no longer dressed in prison garb but the sleekest designer attire, all edges and expensive fabrics with him on her arm, well groomed, cared for and fed. No one remembered the past and they were free to live each day as they wished, the city stretching out before them as an opportunity and no longer a danger.
It went on in a way she could only have dreamed of, a home, a life, and eventually a family, twins, as different as night and day, both of them proudly holding one each for a photo. She could have stayed there forever, and for a time it seemed like she would, swimming in a sea of contentment within which she could drown.
Only, creeping like vines into her thoughts there came a time when she realised that something was wrong. Something was different, the city was clouded and darkening and the faces on the ads seemed drawn and terrifying. She could not find the twins, and she came home, clearing the stairs with what seemed like impossible rapidity, running to them as if she had wings. The door (the white door) was ajar and beyond it her home was a husk, burned down to its barest beams and in the middle of it all stood Ras.
The fancy clothes were gone, his hair was back to the bedraggled mess it had been in prison and the whole room smelled sickly sweet, like something between smoke and flowers. He stood on the crackled boards and at first she moved to him, only to falter and hesitate, for the first time not sure if she was safe.
"The children." she said, and her voice was desperate. "Where...?"
"Gone." he interrupted her. "I lose everything. I can't hold onto anything. I knew this would happen."
And he sighed, a sigh that seemed to ripple through her. She was crying because in the way of dreams she knew, she knew before he spoke.
"They had to go or I might lose you to them. All of this was too much. I met you with nothing. We did better with nothing. Just us. We needed to go back to that."
"But it was ours!" she cried and it was pain and anguish now, the skies roiling with a growing storm. "It was OURS, ALL OF THIS WAS OURS."
And she ran, even though it hurt her to do it, even though she knew she would never outrun his hold on her, what she'd given him and what he'd given her. She knew one day she would stop and she would return to him no matter what she lost to keep him. She'd lose her home, her family, her job, her future because she loved him and he would take it all and strip it away because he lived on that edge of despair and happiness and there was room only for both of them.
It would happen, she knew, but she ran regardless, until her legs could run no longer.
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 5:34 am
[ DREAM SCENARIO: GOLD DOOR ]
She was back in the room and there were more doors. This time she chose the gold one and yet again she was swept away, into a world of her own creation.
She was a king from a long lineage of royalty, ruler of a small kingdom passed down by generations. Her people were loyal and she ruled as best she could, making decisions both good and bad. She was respected and revered, but only human - always a king, never a goddess.
She did not mind. Her life was long and equally full of hardship and fulfillment, mistakes and things done right - it was simply a life.
As she grew older she watched the people wither and die, but always the kingdom endured. There was peace in that.
And then once again, the dream shattered.
OOC
[ Infection Rate ]: 0 /100 Character's name: Sylvi Ravnholt Character's faction: Prison Character's journal link:Link Character's survival stats: Stats BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Toned and athletic without being super buff, 177cm tall, wider than average hips, small to medium boobs. More bottom heavy than top heavy. reference
Ephebe
Offline
Rathurue
Alien Abductee
Offline
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 6:01 am
[DREAM SEQUENCE, BLUE DOOR] He slowly opened his eyes. Hmm... Saul was floating inside a kaleidoscope of small frames. Each gold-framed pictures are his happy memories. Each silver-framed are memory of daily events. The ivory and black-framed pictures are the saddest.
He knew this scenery. He has experienced this few times when he tried lucid dreaming. Does that mean he's sleeping right now? No, he can't make himself awake. Even by doing the reality check of snapping his fingers changes nothing. This is weird...
All of a sudden, the memory frames stopped floating around him, and it got sucked---no, it was flying in one direction, solidifying into an object; no, OBJECTS.
In front of him was three doors, with different colors and handles.
The leftmost, Black. It was an amazingly intricate door from hardwood, its hinges were heavy iron and the door was decorated with many beautiful metal decorations, with a silver handle topped with a green gem.
The middle, Blue. The door was made from something not quite earthly; in fact it looks like it was made from some kind of crystalline substance. It has nothing like a handle to open, but something tells him that if he ordered the door to open, it will do it.
The rightmost, White. It was a strangely similar door. It was white, thick door you usually see at detention centers, one window from reinforced glass was on it. Unlike the other doors, this one has a keyhole.
He felt compelled to open the door. But which door should he open?
Clack.
The Black door opened, as it welcoming him to go inside. The White door, too, unlocked and opened with a slam.
But he didn't chose from both. Instead, he walked straight to the Blue door.
"Open." He said, and the door shattered into million pieces, each shard erasing the space they cut and with that, a new vision is revealed.
It was...
"Thanks to your [Salvation Engine], we has succeeded in conquering Mars."
A very large room with equally large table inside it. He was the one with the highest position on the table-the Committee.
The secretary continued to speak. "However, the problem as now still stands. The Terraforming machines will finish their job in about five years, and while we are waiting, the World Clock continues to tick down. Because the [Engine]'s birth, the world that has been saved from energy crisis has plunged into social crisis; all of the humanity that believes they don't need to do anything because of the E.N.I.G.M.A units working falls into hedonism; crime rates has again increased to 200% from last years' and the amount of skirmishes has exceeded 1000%. Some people has actually built an energy weapon out of the design stolen from our database. If this continued to happen, the world would not last."
Saul sighed. Even if he had taken the flaw of humanity as a species into his calculation, this is far too fast. He expected the terraforming progress has exceeded minimal living condition before this human-induced catastrophe happened.
Since he has created the [Salvation Engine] and released it to public, less than 10 years has passed. The free energy it provides ERASED completely world hunger in mere months after the Engine was installed. It also provides free water electricity to even the smallest villages in the middle of nowhere. Everyone's happy...but not for long.
Because the sudden improvement of life quality, humanity as a whole grown lazy. The stock market, depending on fuel trade crashed into zero. The 'war' waged by the major nations waged for capital was exposed to the media, causing many critics and leading to the country's shutdown. It, in turn spawned many radical movements...
The chain of events continued, and it leads to World War III. Countries are at each other's neck, nuclear missiles on ready and targeting lasers at each's capital was one way to keep others stressed. Many lesser nations are absorbed by bigger ones---those with sufficient arsenal at hand. At the very end of the war there's only three main 'beliefs' other than 'nations' to remain; The 'Methodological' mainly comprised by the religious, the 'Capitalist' and 'Extremist', each with their own rules and playstyle. And they're the ones currently moving the mass for the select few's personal gain.
Should he just eliminate them all? Or should he believe that there's still hope? The 12 hidden apostles?
"Sir?" The secretary called him again. "-you have another appointment with the-" "Cancel it." "But sir, this is already the 10th time you cancelled. The other party demands you to at least browse the list; they insisted."
"Record this. I don't want to select ANYONE to began Mars colonization project. And literally screw them. Your so-called 'chosen bloodlines' are no other than a fraud. Have you recorded this?" Asked him again, turning his face away from the floating camera "Loud and clear, sir." "Good. Next tell the information bureau to track down everyone in the list and see if their genomics database have been altered. Just browse the external archived file. And throw away all those blood-samples; they're probably using bone marrow implants to fool the on-the-spot tester. Get their old bloodtype by tracing the genealogy of their parents; crosscheck them with the genomics external. We don't need anymore clones on board." He commented, looking at the spectacle before him.
The once blue planet was no more. Instead there was a barren rock with purplish ocean, an aftermath of Fusion Wars where humanity channeled the power generated by [Salvation Engines] to create metamaterials that changed how wars-and physics- was waged. An antimatter generator. Anti-radioactivity elements that renders all kind of nuclear power ineffective. A water-binding element that turns pure water into insoluble jelly; which dumping into the ocean kills every living organism.
He was inside an orbital elevator, floating at a distance between Moon and the rock called 'Earth'.
Where did it went wrong?
"HA!" That was a scary dream. But based on the theory of limitless multiverse, it MAY be happening...to some extent in the future should he finished the [Engine].
Now the three doors was gone and he is back on the messy space. Wait. "Am I still dreaming?"
OOC
[ Infection Rate ]: 000/100 Character's name: Saul Goodman Character's faction: Mall Character's journal link: Journal Character's survival stats: OK BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER S'all good, man!
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 6:22 am
[Rescuer POV]
It was dark when Torsten rubbed at his eyes, pushing his upper body up as he did so. Things were jumlbed...when did he fall asleep? How did he fall asleep? Most importantly....why? Why did he fall asleep---oh Jack!! He looked around small hands scrambling for something, reaching.
Where was the Human? Were they alright? Were they safe? Oh...oh jack...bats and nightmares...Torsten felt the coldness seep in. For a small dragon this was nearly impossible to bear. He was used to warmth, he was used to a thrum of electricity through his body...where did all that go? He felt..drained..lifeless even. He yelped as he curled in the fetal position once the voice started talking. His tail weakly curled around him...it hurt so much! Who was this...he barely heard the vine as it came closer. Once it wrapped around his leg he let out a ghoulish shriek....that was so not going to be in the recount of this adventure to Mellow. Nope...not at all...
As he looked around at the networking he was...mildly impressed...then...he simply let go. Whimpering as his head thrummed and throbbed but knew that he was going to apart of something greater. His small hand reached out as his last coherent thoughts were on his latest nap with Mellow...as he neared the center. Torsten started to see wisps of what he was.
Training as a new hatchling with his Father, trying to learn how to produce a flame...then to his Father's dismay he instead produces a sparkler. His Mother clapped in joy as her husband handed her a aquamarine. A part of him was upset he couldn't see their faces, but that was alright. Times he was a child. Playing with cousins who were older than he was, different colors...different sizes...always bigger than him. He wanted to reach to them...they were safety for the small dragon. He felt so cold...
Then as if fighting one last time, his mind brought forth current memories. His entrance to the school. Meeting Matty, getting bit. Meeting Carlos, making a friend. Meeting Xavier, learning even adults could be kids. Meeting Mellow--he felt warmth there. Getting a nap buddy...there were others. So many others...but once his mind hit Mellow. It halted. There was still so much he had to learn and explore with the small floating pony. So much...so cold...he slipped away then...mind numb...
It was the same dream, the same hallway, only this time the doors were different, red gold and violet. She did not know why she chose the gold door this time, only that she did.
She was born into nobility, born to rule. It was not strange or unexpected, it was simply the way of things, she embraced the role of a monarch the way a bird accepted the sky, she lived and breathed her kingdom and her domain and knew every book on the subject in the palace libraries, the words of her ancestors and their musings and thoughts upon the role she found herself part of. There was no fairy tale pining for the carefree life of a peasant because she knew that their lives were not without care. At the head of her kingdom she was responsible for the lives of the lowliest member of it and that was not a weight to be taken lightly.
She felt like she existed for the role, for the part that she played for her people and her kingdom. She was as much a machine as the monarchy itself, she was not entitled to choices, to freedoms. Her job did not end, she could not simply go home and relax or have a day off. When she was ill, her kingdom was ill, when she was well the kingdom was well. The respect she received was expected and nothing more nor less than she deserved.
She did not have a family, the only part of her duty that she could not bear. She would not simply hand out her body, so integral to the wellbeing of her kingdom for a man to ravage with his seed, she would not put herself in that kind of danger. All there was was the task at hand and what needed to be done.
Old before she knew it, she did not regret time's inevitable march, she was tired and weary, it felt like it had been for ever. The people withered as she did, and that was fine too, it was simply the way the world was destined to work, as she changed, so did the kingdom.
She had never known true company so she never learned what it meant to be lonely.
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 7:23 am
[ RESCUER POV]
It's so dark.
The blackness was comforting almost, floating as if on nothing but a cloud. It welcomed him, soothed him.
That was when he realized, wait when did i fall asleep? Quinns eyes flew open, remembering nothing of the comforting blackness. Instead a bone chilling cold slowly seeped its way into his body, crossing his arms over his chest in a attempt to grow warm. He shivered, the coat he wore doing nothing more than making him colder. Even worse, was the ultimate invasion of privacy he felt. It was an odd sensation, but unfortunately one he had felt previously. It was a feeling of movement in his mind, a foreign object not supposed to be there. Almost on cue the voice sounded, as if it recognized Quinn could sense the intrusion.
The pain was sharp, making him gasp. What was that? Vines were everywhere, pulsating.... almost alive. It seemed almost like a central nervous system - a brain at its core. Of which seemed to be growing closer. It was around then he noticed the source of the pain, the vines attaching him to the web.
Only the closer he grew... the less he seemed to care.
Lilwolfpard
Magical Unicorn
Offline
kuropeco
Dramatic Marshmallow
Offline
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 7:34 am
[ RESCUER POV ]
He couldn't think straight, couldn't even more properly in the biting cold that seemed to make his veins seize and his heart stop. Gale lifted his his trembling hands, pressing them against the sides of his head, trying to block out the words, tying desperately to keep them out of his head as they reverberated painfully, terribly in his thoughts. He didn't want to hear, but he couldn't not hear, couldn't walk away, couldn't do anything other than sway terribly, head turning from side to side, and he didn't know what was happening.
Blackness blinked in and out. Gale was dimly aware of this fact, but his mind felt hazy and unpleasant. His vision eventually came back into focus, but then he wished it hadn't, because there vines - terribly familiar, awful, vines wrapping around him, dragging him towards - towards something -
He couldn't look at it.
Everything shifted, his mind slipping in and out of focus like a badly tuned radio. What had he been doing again? He couldn't remember, but he was steadily moving closer to the thing, and he was starting to become aware of his own lack of self, his own lack of individuality. He didn't need to be anything, not really. Time was such a relative thing, and so was his existence.
Was he something? He couldn't recall.
He didn't think, really, that he was anything at all.
He was starting to fade. That was okay, he didn't need to be.
And then he was gone.
OOC
Character's name: Gale Gentry Character's faction: Deus Ex Machina Hunter Character's division: Death Division Character's journal link:★ HP: 60 / 60 Weapon: Sniper Rifle ( 2d12 - 6 ) Runics: Runic chains + upgraded barrier daggers
Vaudrey didn't remember falling asleep, but he remembered waking - mostly because that was what he was doing now. He wondered sleepily whether it was okay to do this - if it was okay to drift off and then come back into focus, but it seemed he had no choice in the matter, and he couldn't quite remember what it was that he was doing anyway that was so important.
It was freezing. Vaudrey shivered, his arms wrapping around himself, and the voice that shook inside of his head made him gasp, made him almost writhe in discomfort and pain, talons scraping at the floor, Vaudrey trying to curl into a huddled mess, but his body didn't seem to want to cooperate, wings fluttering uselessly.
He couldn't get the sound of the voice out of his head. It felt like an invasion, an intruder.
At some point in time, he blacked out again, though he didn't remember doing that either. When the world came into view again, he felt something against his legs, winding steadily up, and there were - there things grabbing him and tugging him, vines that wrapped securely around his leg. Vaudrey made a low groan of despair, trying to kick out, to stop it, but again, couldn't seem to make himself move well at all. He felt underwater, all of his limbs heavy and useless.
His eyes flickered to the thing he was being dragged to and had to look away a second later, his heart in his throat, because it was just - it was too much, he couldn't stand seeing it, couldn't stand having it right there because it was overwhelming, and what was it, anyway?
Did he even care what it was? Vaudrey wasn't certain anymore, the slow drag of him closer making his thoughts hazy. He thought, perhaps, that he should care - shouldn't he? Or maybe he should just be - or maybe he shouldn't be, maybe he should just -
- what was he thinking about, again? He couldn't recall, didn't even know what he was doing here, what his name was. Darkness seemed to seep into his thoughts and his vision the nearer he came to - to whatever it was that was in front of him. Vaudrey felt the cold only as a dim afterthought - a thought?
They had come to him, and begged him. Begged, pleading, wanting purpose and knowledge and the why of things.
Mia wasn't a killer, but he had killed. Ultimately, he had no choice. From their begging, they had wanted death. They had wanted finality. They had begged him to end their suffering.
At first, he had refused. However, left to their own devices, the humans would create a darkness that if left to their devices, left to fester... would lead to something far, far worse.
There were far more terrible things than dying. Much, much worse things.
Only Mia himself understood this.
Destroying mortals was as easy as ripping the wings off of a butterfly. He separated the weak and the determined, he created strife so they did not tear themselves apart - from the chaos and battle he became a god of destruction and war, born from the chaos of mortals.
It consumed him.
He couldn't stop - wouldn't stop now.
Everyone he ever loved, ever knew, ever interacted with... they would all fall.
Eventually, everything would fall.
And he would watch the world burn.
namehere
[ Infection Rate ]: 0 /100
OOC
Character's Name: Mad Mia Character's Faction: Prison Character's Journal Link:Hey! Listen! Over Here! Character's survival stats:Mad MiaView Coins: 63 BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER: Wiry thin with wild chin-length blond hair, and blue eyes. For clothing, he has goggles resting on his head over a llama hat. two scarves, a red shirt with a black vest, green pants, and brown boots. He looks... not quite all there in the head.
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 7:55 am
[ DREAM SCENARIO - BLUE DOOR ]
His world was beautiful.
Or at least, it had been at one point in time. October had tried so hard to be a good leader, taking the time to care for it, to shape it, to mold it just so, so that it was meant to be one of dedication and loyalty and kindness. And for a while, it had worked, and he'd stood back and been proud of how it had come out, had watched fondly as his people had done their best to support each other.
But that felt like so long ago now. He stood now, on the precipice, his heart in his throat and anguish in his face as he tried, yet again, to pull one away from another, because none of them seemed to want to live, only to fight - or sometimes not fight at all, lost within their own minds. These were perhaps the worst to deal with; October was helpless to the ones who chose to seclude themselves away, drowning in their own obsessions, and they no longer saw reason, or thought, or kindness.
Or anything at all.
Time had dwindled away, leaving behind only remnants of what had once been, and October couldn't do anything to stop it. Each new choice after the next seemed to only deepen the situation, worsening it as the days had slid into weeks and then months, and then years. And October had started to doubt himself, had started to wonder if he'd ever truly been of any help to them at all.
He reached towards one, his hand outstretched -
- and then the world around him shattered, and there was nothing but the room and the doors once more.
He supposed, not for the first time, that he perhaps shouldn't have allowed his subjects to have as much freedom. Raffin wasn't exactly an overbearing presence, but he certain knew as well as the next person that it was he who had shaped their futures, that it was he that had the most strength and intelligence - especially intelligence - to guide them to a place they needed to be. He was acutely aware of all of the weaknesses of everyone else, the faults in their beings, the flaws in their characters, each one denoted down so that he could look back at them when he needed to, so that he could recall with ease who it was that needed the most work.
Raffin, of course, needed to work, because his intelligence far outstripped their own.
His puppet stood in front of him, blank faced and blank minded - the perfect canvas. Raffin had already started the process of molding him exactly to his liking, and so far it was working out quite well. No one would ever come close to his own standards, after all, but at the very least he knew that he could shape this one to its proper height. He'd known them, after all, known them well, and that was exactly the reason they had been chosen.
Raffin needed them. Needed them to be the key piece in getting back what was owed to him, to his enemies getting their due, and the only way to do that was to take apart the ones that were imperfect and make them perfect again. He saw no flaws in this plan, and a little smile of gladness was on his face.
Raffin reached up, patted the man's face consolingly the way an owner would pet a dog.
"You will be a great soldier for me," he said, and then slipped away to make more, because it was never enough.
Reply
