He knew the look on the face of the other hatter well because it was his face. He had been instilled with every memory that the other had, up to the point of his death; the one they 'died' together. This one would be different, though. While they would both carry the memory of how he had ended Arland, the real Arland, only he would know what happened after.
He stepped up alongside the replica of Inoke, DrgnZOrd (still a stupid name), clapping a hand on his shoulder and flashing him a grin. "Ready to see what comes next, 'Noke?"
The other didn't get a chance to answer, Grief and its cage consuming them, breaking them down until there was nothing more.
Grymoire
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 6:14 am
The wing sinks almost effortlessly into the chest of his original, the look of shock on the face is not unexpected, not particularly hard to take because it is what must be done. The tide of memories though, the tidal wave of recollection that sweeps over him with though. That first voice, a greeting, he thinks perhaps if he were the original, it might have seemed motherly in a terrible way.
"In dreams, new memories are created," the voice speaks, unfamiliar. You cannot see. You do not understand sight. "You are these new memories, the container for the old. You were created just like me. Perfect containers, one day to be used and then discarded. It is okay to be a toy, we are all toys here. We all exist, just pieces of us, just barely enough. We are the sacrifice."
That was his birth, a vessel, a jar, a bowl to be filled up with memories and then broken for the sake of a cake. It is painful, but it is peaceful too, so swept up in the tide of emotions that are as new and sweet as candy and just as varied in their ‘taste’. There is joy, there is sorrow, their wonder and following it pain and elation. There are faces that confuse him, and yet instill every one of these emotions; there is a world he will never see.
He was born to die, and it is a noble purpose.
The white queen reassembles herself, the last of the shards falling into place. The door has vanished, and had there been any thought of escape, or hope of defying his purpose then it has vanished with that door.
“I am, exactly who I need to be…at this moment.” He intones quietly. They are words that the original might have said, had their rolls been reversed.
It is a terrible death, but it is a necessity. Some fragment of his memories finds a glory in it, not one that the children of the first Quetzalcoatl might have followed, but other creatures from their small corner of the world did. They will not lift his still beating heart from his chest to greet the morning sun or the rising moon. But there is a glory in it, nobility which every copy, every vessel will share.
He glances around him to the copies of Davie,/Dreadpirate… Razerhead, and CorvidaeCat, To Dreadpirate he leans for a moment and says quietly the words the original did not have the surety to give. “Kiss her… fool.” And offers a grin before reaching back to take the hand of Corvidae, squeezing it gently in his own.
The cage completes, his heart pounding in his ears it seems, though that too now fades. The dream has ended… all that remains is grief.
Kalindara
Huni Pi
Skye Starrfyre
endejester
Feral Cat
Offline
Rapidashtrainer
Offline
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 6:27 am
The Last Voyage –POST 2: REPLICA
The replica watched silently as his original slowly faded away, the look of surprised still clearly etched on his face. ”I do hope he finds his rider,” said the Replica with a wistful sigh. ”But time is on his side. While I...,”
Sheathing his dagger, the replica tightened his lips as he turned to face the White Queen; standing in the exact same location where his original had stood before. This was where it all boils down to. This was the reason he was created.
Nevertheless Replica!Clopper couldn’t help but suppress a shudder as those tendrils once again ensnared him. There were moments where all the replica wanted to do was scream, run away, fight his fate but what held him back was...the unfailing knowledge that somewhere out there, the original was safe and that the original would carry on. For the both of them.
His memories were fading. A fleeting glance of a field of green; a brief pause by the stream; the feel of the wind in his mane...
He was shrinking. He could feel himself losing consciousness. Panic began to set in as the world darkened. Then the calm came...
His original had walked this path before and had been reawakened as a student in Halloween. He was walking down a similar road too but this time, he would not awaken.
An eternal sleep... Isn’t that what...every ghost wanted?
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 6:34 am
DEATH SOLO: ORIGINAL
Here was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid.
...only, he was only a bear, not a rabbit. And in this very moment, he wasn't very splendid at all. Though Alex had fetched his head, it still lay detached from Ulka's body, not quite out of his grasp but not firmly attached. Whatever blow he had been dealt, he was dead.
But stitch by stitch and piece by piece, he suddenly pulled together. Seams reattached, and as if someone had waved a magic wand, Ulka was coming alive. When the thread between neck and head finally pulled him shut, he sat up with a gasp, choking on the sudden rush of air. He was alive. He had lost his head, and somehow, he was alive again.
This game was so very confusing.
Before he could look around to find his friends- to find Alex- he was grabbed. Ensnarled and enslaved by an overwhelming and all encompassing grief. Ulka choked out a sob, still not used to his newly recovered lungs. It burned, the way the grief burned at his heart. The queen. He had been loyal to her, and this was what he got.
He did not fight as he was drug into her clutches. The grief was suffocating, overwhelming. But after all, this was what he deserved. It wasn't as if he had done anything here, worth remembering. Worth caring for.
"But wasn't I real before?" Asked the little rabbit."
Had he been real? Ever? Was there an Ulka Ursa at all? The cage shrunk around him, clawing and biting, and so too did his hopes shrink.
I will stay. You will stay. Yes. That was how it seemed to be going, he thought. Closing his eyes, Ulka let the complete and utter nothingness overwhelm him.
At least, in the time he was here, he had made friends.
But then, there was a snap. A snap, and Ulka was clawing his way to freedom, towards the door. He had to find Alex, had to find his friends among the puppets. He was so tired, so worn. A little bear could only do so much...
"Worry not, my friend. I am here, and everything will be alright."
That voice. That voice was so familiar, so intimate- it was himself. Blinking up blearily, Ulka stared into the face of himself. And he was smiling.
"Weren't you supposed to replace me...?" he asked, voice worn and just a bit sad. The puppet nodded, but still he smiled.
"To replace you from this, so you can go live. That is why I am here."
"But why?"
Teddomination, as Ulka would now call his double, smiled fondly.
"Because you are Real. And you always have been."
...oh. The other him knew of his struggles, knew his fears. Blinking, Ulka simply regarded his other, fighting back tears. He had thought- had been so certain- that this Him and Alice were the enemy.
Why was he always so wrong?
"No! Do not cry, my friend. This is a happy day! You are Real. You get to live! What greater victory is there than that?" The double wiped at Ulka's good eye, and grinned brightly.
"I just need you to do one more favor for me," he said, nodding seriously. Ulka found himself nodding in agreement.
"A-and what is that favor?"
"Find Alex for me. For us." The scissors entered his heart smoothly, cleanly. There would be no pain this time, no moment of loss or sorrow.
His ears are filled with Pachua's optimistic hopes of the future, but his eyes are locked on Joy. The petrification spreads before his eyes. His hands clench so tight that he's surprised they don't break. She's dying and there's nothing he can do.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry," Pachua says quietly.
"For what?" Davey asks without turning around. It's not like the kid can apologise for how he was born - there's no reason for him to think there's anything wrong with what he is or how he feeds. Davey doesn't know what the kid could be apologising for.
In just a few moments time, he'll wish he'd turned around. But he doesn't, too caught up in Joy's dire situation.
"At least you won’t be traveling with… a monster any more."
Something clatters to the ground and finally Davey tears his eyes away. Pachua lies in a broken heap on the ground. The air punches from Davey's lungs. Sure, he'd wanted to attack Pachua not that long ago, but seeing him like this, just a broken doll... it's hard to remember why he was so angry. He swears. Useless, once again. There's a Resurrection card burning a hole in an inventory that can't be accessed. Pachua's dead and there's nothing he can do.
'Do you think he woke up?' he asks Azrael.
The fallen angel forgoes the traditional insults about Davey's lack of intelligence - a sure sign that he's also unnerved by this entire situation. ~Without knowing how we got here, I can't guess if there's a way out - or if there is, if it's currently open.~
Davey swallows around a lump in his throat. Does that mean that if Joy is completely petrified and dies, she won't be okay like he's been trying to reassure her? If he dies here, is he completely dead, game over?
But maybe he's worrying for nothing, because Pachua suddenly stirs and stands back up. Every fallen body in the room does.
"What the hell?" Davey says.
When he looks around, the White Queen has reformed herself - not very well, though, as she's breaking apart. With each fragment that hits the floor, white vines spring up around the room. One slithers towards him, growing thorns as it moves. He steps backwards quickly to avoid it. He places himself between it and Joy, as though he could possibly defend her with no weapons available to him.
The vines grow, curling in. Avoiding them means moving closer to the centre of the room, making sure to keep Joy and the newly-resurrected Pachua close. It's only when the vines twine closer together that he realises they're now caught in a cage - and moving ever closer to the White Queen.
"This is the end of your legacy," the White Queen announces.
Davey winces, raising a hand to his head. That feeling is back, the one where she pulled out their memories one by one. This feels more like she's grabbing handfuls, and not even Azrael's assistance can keep her out.
"This is the rebirth of Grief. I will take your essence, your memories and make them mine. You will stay. I will stay."
"Absolutely not," Davey snarls, but in his heart he can feel himself becoming less. He grabs Joy's hand, holding tight even though he knows she can't feel it anymore. What meagre light was in the room starts to dim.
"You will stay in this cage. Your existence, your memories, will contain my Grief."
The room grows darker. Joy is a grey smudge in his vision, Pachua the faintest outline of silhouette against a black nothingness. "If we wake up," he begins to say, and it's a change from everything he had said before when he was certain it would happen.
The sound of a thousand shattering mirrors interrupts him. A rectangle of light appears, flooding the room and creating bright starburst patterns on the inside of Davey's eyelids as he looks away. He hears footsteps clomping in. His heartrate kicks up - he knows the sound of an army on the move. The only question is, who's orders are they following?
His blinks his vision clear to see hundreds of player avatars marching through the open door, figures of all job classes and colour combinations. The cage is gone - that was what shattered, not more mirrors. The army splits ranks, spreading out among the players. A Gryphon stops in front of Joy. Before Davey can move to intercept, strong hands grab him and pull him away.
"No, Joy!" he cries as his hand loses its grip on hers. "You bastards-!"
"She'll be fine," a familiar voice tells him. "At ease, Lieutenant Brant."
Davey stares at the avatar that grabbed him, that still has its hands clenched in the fabric of his jacket. His own face stares back - his avatar face, rather, complete with hair extension ponytail and eyepatch. It's a perfect replica, down to knowing the right words to stop Davey in his tracks long enough to take notice.
The replica's eyes drop to the fists holding Davey in place. His voice is soft when he says, "It's sad, isn't it?"
Davey follows his gaze. "What?"
A soft chuckle, and Davey can tell it's forced. "That this is what feels weird now, having them both again."
He exhales sharply. He's been thinking the same thing during the length of the dream-game. "Well, it has been three years," he offers.
The replica's smile is sad when he meets Davey's eyes. "We thought we'd never adjust."
"We didn't want to adjust," Davey admits quietly. Adjusting meant accepting, and he hadn't wanted to, for a very long time.
"How are you...? What are you?" Davey demands of the replica. This isn't just a mimic - he knows things Davey hasn't spoken of to anyone, at any time, let alone during the game.
"I'm your container," the other-Davey says. "She demands a sacrifice, the memories of the players. ALICE made us so you could be freed."
"What? No," Davey snaps, realising the others will be the ones stuck here forever. Others who might be 'copies', but are also much more - perfect copies, an exact second David Brant, all his memories and feelings. All too ready to sacrifice himself, to be the shield that protects everyone else from harm. "There has to be another way-!"
"There isn't." The second Davey is unwavering, expression stern.
"Joy, she... the petrification..."
"She'll wake up just fine. You all will," the replica says with the certainty Davey had possessed up until a few minutes ago. "Don't fight me."
There's a moment where Davey wonders why he would fight, until he looks down and there's a very familiar gauntlet covering the avatar's left arm. His eyes dart to Joy. "Wait, no, dying repeatedly if she's in a pod-!"
"Is dangerous, I know." Other-Davey's face is grave. "But there's only one way out, and this is it."
"Wait, wait, just... one minute," Davey asks, refuses to call it begging. He can't look away from Joy, only sees the replica nod in his peripheral vision.
He reaches out a hand that can't breach the distance Davey's replica put between them. "Joy, don't worry. It'll be okay," he calls, and maybe his voice wavers the tiniest bit. "You'll wake up and you'll be fine. This is just a dream."
Is he going to...? Yes, he is. He all but snarls, "But I'm not. And I will find you. I promise."
"Done?" the replica asks, tolerant but clearly nearing the end of his patience.
"Yes," Davey answers. He closes his eyes briefly, but opens them again. He'll meet his end head-on.
"In that case, I have a last request."
Davey's stomach drops out. Of course his other self would have regrets, and he can hardly deny himself.
The replica stares into Davey's eyes and Davey gets the feeling of being looked straight through. He knows, suddenly, that this request isn't for him. "Take good care of him. He needs you more than he'll admit."
Azrael purrs at the admission, coiling around Davey's thoughts, but there's something almost sad in the noise this time. ~Of course,~ he says, as though the other Davey can hear him.
It occurs to Davey that the replica can't. That he doesn't even have...
The replica smiles a broken smile. "I'm you," he stresses. "Only you."
Before Davey has time to dwell on that, the replica continues, "And as for you..."
Davey nods, waits.
The replica's smile changes into something more real. He leans his forehead against Davey's. "Fight the good fight, yeah?"
Davey's throat burns as he thinks on memories of Ben, of the fake-past memory from the Caterpillar's Den, of the notion of himself giving up the fight so another him can continue on.
"Ooh rah," he chokes out, right before a gauntlet rips through his chest. He doesn't feel any pain, not from a physical wound anyway. Everything is going dark again. "Thank you," he whispers to his double.
Because of this plan, this sacrifice, Davey will wake up. He and a lot of other Hunters will continue to protect humanity. Because of this plan, Joy, an innocent civilian, will wake up.
His throat won't work when he tries to speak again. Before everything goes dark, he thinks it as loud as he can, hoping that if it can exist in even data form, she will pick it up.
'Thank you... ALICE.'
endejester
Huni Pi
Syrie generated a random number between
1 and 22 ...
11!
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 6:44 am
[ ROUND 2 (Reply to Fang) - 20 HP / 40 HP ]
Mirrors everywhere, showing horrible futures and causing comrade to attack comrade as they attempted to stop the White Queen's laughing image. He watched a mirror come between him and another person, head tilted and curious as to what that person was seeing, feeling...and then it shattered and though he'd known what would happen if he remained, he'd found it nearly impossible to move.
Fang slashed him and then stood frozen as recognition hit. Mouth stared, eyes wide with shock - emotion mirrored for once by eyes that did not look like his own. And then he bolted, leaving Mouth standing there, in shock.
"H-hey! Wait!" But he was distracted once more, cut off from following his friend - kind of friend? Wonderland friend? whatever Fang was - by his own Mirror, the third and final one.
Prolixity
AWWWW, poor Fangity Fang - but Mouth isn't gonna chase him down and slash him, it's cool. :3
[ ROUND 2 - 20 HP / 40 HP ]
Queen's Card
There, in the mirror, sat an older version of himself, hair like an oil-slick falling over his shoulders; clothing and accents showing that his rank was quite high as far as the DeVarr clan went. To one side of his seat was another, empty, as though there usually was a second -- Nahm, probably, since he (the future he) didn't look absolutely abjectly miserable -- but currently only he sat and gave audience to a creepy-looking being.
He heard - both versions heard, rather - the offer being made: To rule all of the Monster clans and factions - it could be his. And for a moment, it was tempting...but then he realized what was happening: The White Queen was teasing him, showing him something that she thought he would want in order to...
Well, he had no idea what her purpose was, really, but he wanted nothing of it!
Mouth shoved the mirror back and then slashed at it with his blade, shattering the horrid thing to bits until he was face-to-face with another of the creeple playing around in Wonderland, rather than a Queen. "Jack-dammit, you'd think I'd've learned by now." He grumbled and set his weapon to his side, apologizing for having hacked at the other.
"Can't hit the b***h and when ya' try, ya' hit someone else." He shook his head and sighed a bit before straightening up. "If you've a mind to take revenge, I'll stand firm and not stop you."
It was the least he could do, as penance.
[A.V.]
Sorreh, 10 damage to you ;O; Mouth is a derp
My STATS
My character's username: RavenousDelirium My character's level: 33 Character's HP:40 20 Current party: -- Current Guild: -- Location: Red Queen's Castle Small IC description of character:
Tall, lightly muscled with glowing red eyes and dark grey, mottled skin, RavenousDelirium wears the black and white with gold-trim Royal Gryphon-class set though there are many patches and additional "accents" added to the basic set. His dark hair is long and thick, slightly waved from being pinned out of his face and his overly-wide mouth is rarely given to any emotion beyond scorn or smirk.
His other half fell to the floor, slain. The second time, from what he could tell. But this time, it was in peace. Teddomination felt as though he should be sad- somewhere, in another life, perhaps. But not in this one.
Here, he only felt proud.
Sure and determined, he turned to face the white queen.
She had been monumental, once. She had been grand and imposing, and fearful. But now... Now she seemed as scared as they were.
Or maybe, he was just projecting. Because as proud as he was, he was feeling just a blossom of fear.
And he remembered. His older sister's indifference, his father's betrayal... It all felt fresh and new and yet so very familiar. The dichotomy was almost what hurt the worst. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, stepping forward as the white queen took him.
He was Ulka, but Ulka was not him.
Maybe, he hoped, maybe Ulka would make the two of them friends. He would discuss his feelings with Alex, and something would happen. He would find Frost Paw, and Maybe Allan, and M00n again on the other side. The shamble of a family they had once had would give way to a real one. A family, a home.
Amity.
Teddomination found himself crying, though he was happy. He himself, the clone, would cease to exist. But Ulka Ursa would live for the both of them.
He only wished he could be around to see it.
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 7:01 am
Post 2 - SugarPuss/Yvette (Replica)
"I know everything." She saw the confusion reflected in her original form's eyes. You really were oblivious the entire time, weren't you? "All your memories, everything you've gained in this dream. I am your container." Powerless to go against the orders that defined her very existence, she recited the script she was given without stopping to provide any explanation. She couldn't do that even if she wanted to. Time was of the essence here and they only had a couple of seconds to take the place of their originals before the White Queen's cage resealed the breach that was created in order to make this possible.
Failure was not an option.
Pulling out her weapon, she smiled at her original. There were so many things she had learnt from her memories alone. Memories that empowered her and gave her the very same weapon that she now grasped in her hands. Memories of things that she understood nothing of, people whom she knew only by name but would never have the chance of meeting in person. Memories that gave her the ability to stand before the White Queen in her stead as her sacrifice. With her last words spoken, she lifted the hammer then struck down the other without mercy. It was time to fulfil what she and the other replicas around her were created for.
Casting her gaze around her, she searched for the replica of WalkingMeatShield whom her original had been rather fond of since that particular encounter at the Tavern. There was nothing more for them to do now other than simply exist while the White Queen slowly consumed them. After locating the Caterpillar boil, she crossed the landscape to join him, the feelings that the original SugarPuss had towards him surging from within her to displace the emotional turmoil of fear, anger and resentment that she currently felt towards what was about to come.
There wasn't anything that she could do about the fact that she was no more than a tool that merely existed for this purpose alone and would die as such. They were already prepared for this day. It was the very first thing they were told the moment they came into existence and subsequently developed a sense of self awareness. Yet somewhere within her, she couldn't help but feel somewhat regretful that this was all there was to her very existence. Although there wasn't much time left, she still wanted to do something for herself at least. To be remembered by another other than her original that she once existed even if it was only for a few minutes.
Wrapping her arms around him, she attempted to tug him into an embrace then simply waited for the end. With him beside her, she found herself no longer afraid...
He knew even before his attack completed the swing and fully hit; it had all been a fleeting hope that he could take the White Queen down, or at least deal some damage to her, however minuscule. The return attack came just as expected and Hades could only bow his head in acceptance.
hanging gallow
NO DAMAGE THO
OOC
My character's username: HadesKnight My character's level: 46 Character's HP: 40 Current party: Current Guild:The White Rose Garrison Location: Small IC description of character:RABBIT (now with a cloak!)
This mirror did not have her in it, she realized. All it had was a petty argument between friends about mere crushes, and despite the fact that it was something she did not want to ever be a part of, it rang a bell in her mind. For some reason, she found herself thinking of her sister, Sabina. Gossipy and vain, she had never really gotten along with her.
It was while mulling over this that she was struck by the blow, and she merely raised an eyebrow at the other. "I've done the same." She replied, walking away.
Natsuko-neko
NO DAMAGE
Well, s**t.
She hadn't quite expected to see the other player dissipate before her very eyes. There was a slight twinge of regret, but she knew very well that if the White Queen hadn't messed with them, it wouldn't have happened.
...If they died in this dream, would they wake up?
rapidashtrainer
OOC
My character's username: sealed My character's level: 90 Character's HP: 40 Current party: Current Guild: Location: Small IC description of character: sealed is a surly looking cheshire cat wraith all decked out in blue, her tail ringed with black stripes. Her hair is a light blond color and is of medium length, just past her shoulders. She possess a sharp set of claws and constantly fades in and out of invisibility.
Someone killed Tea. Someone killed Tea.SOMEONE KILLED TEA. And Joy can't do s**t about it, the tears of frustration streaking down her cheek are hardly worth anything to the crumpled body lying so close and yet still out of reach.
"Sorry… at, at least you won’t be traveling with… a monster any more."
The boy's last words strikes her hard, triggering memories previously out of reach and causing a deep ache to throb in her side. She remembers them, the things that went bump in the night, the silhouettes of leathery wings flapping in pitch-black sky, the Shadows that clawed and tore and played her like a rag-doll. She remembers so much blood pooling on the floor, staining clothes, spattering the walls. All of it hers. She remembers the slow creep of cold in her body so reminiscent to the numbness of the present. She remembers the heat of her anger and her hatred and how she vowed never again.
Except here she is. Repeating it. How dare the White Queen make her relive it, how very dare the b***h! She curses, inwardly, in long continuous strings, in two different languages because one isn't enough. It doesn't help, it barely takes the edge off her fury. Not even when everyone who'd died, killed by accident or on purpose, suddenly rises back to life. In fact, it seems worse.
Because she finally understands what ALICE had been saying in the replica room. Because she realizes the fuel for her anger is her own weakness and uselessness. And because she is forced to admit she's wrong and her pride tastes of ashes in her mouth.
Davey is holding her hand, dragging her to safety, and it comforts her even if she can't feel the pressure of his grip. The corner of her lip twitches into a small smile at the strength of his words and conviction. She wants to tell him Aye, aye, Cap'n.
Wants to reassure him that she believes him and in him, and even if she has no plans of being trapped by the real psycho b***h of Wonderland it might not be so bad with him around. She doesn't get the chance to get to know the Tea kid, but she suspects she would have liked the younger boy, maybe tried to be an older sister to him (or mother, she is also okay with that). Her smile falters then freezes in place as the stone finally consumes her.
Joy wakes to disorientation, to vibration beneath her feet, and to the sound of marching. She is dimly aware of a pair of hands pulling her aside, brushing away the stone like it was merely a coating of chalk, and another mirror greets her. Wait, no, not a mirror.
It's her! The puppet-her from the replica room! "You're awake," she says dumbly as the last traces of petrification flakes off, leaving only a scar in her flesh where the axe-card struck her earlier. Flexing her fingers and stretching her limbs, Joy sighs at how wonderful it feels to be able to move again. But the chuckle -her chuckle reminds Joy that she isn't alone.
Her first instinct is to see how Davey is doing, but strong hands force her attention back to the double. "Lax-re lang," her copy smirks. "He's in good hands, I mean, they are his own."
"This is it, isn't it? This is when you take everything that makes me me so you can do your thing?" She can't help the bitterness in her voice, this feels too much like running away with your tail between your legs.
"This doesn't make you a coward, you know," other-her frowns. "It's more like a substitution, sure we all wanna watch the A-players finish the game but when there's an injury or someone commits too many fouls, you do what you gotta do. Besides, I am so an A-player."
"It's just-"
"You like finishing things you started. I know, I feel the same way. But hey, I am you," there's that ear-to-ear grin that come so naturally to Joy. Eager and excited and confident and unafraid of anything, Joy can't decide if she wants to punch herself or hug herself. She decides to mirror the smile instead.
"Fine, fine, just, just make sure you kick her a** good, ******** yeah, you know I will! Any other questions?"
She opens her mouth but stops when she hears Davey call out to her, "Joy, don't worry. It'll be okay. You'll wake up and you'll be fine. This is just a dream." Both Joys turn to look, both cheeks tinged pink, "But I'm not. And I will find you. I promise."
"You're going to die, aren't you?" is all Joy can whisper.
And all other-Joy can do is nod. They don't need to look at each other to tell both their hearts are hammering in their chest. Or maybe it's just Joy's as she asks, "What's it like to be named Joy and not have any?"
"Hey ******** you, the other him's gonna still be here."
Joy doesn't realize when the spiked yoyo was first brought out, maybe it had always been there, buried in her chest where her heart is.
xkalindara
xendejester
Joy will be your older sister! Or Mommy. Or Wife-in-Law. Or your It's-Complicated-Like-Really-Complicated-You-Don't-Even-Know
He was dying for what seemed like the twelfth time that day and he did not care. Being sapped away to nothing, dragged down into the cage was not the worst thing that could ever happen to him. He was not afraid because he was never afraid. He had not hoped to escape onto desired to, an instinctual reflex to discomfort like moving one's hand off of a hot stove.
If she was taking his memories then she was taking his life, because there was nothing else. Nothing else at all, Lawrence as a man was nothing but those memories floating like scum upon the vast ocean of void that thrummed within him.
He felt his existence begin to fade and he breathed it in.
No explanations, no reason for anything in his life and he did not feel cheated.
Once again he was denied a death. And there was a door.
When the puppets arrived he simply watched, he was not relieved, he was not impressed, he simply was.
When the puppet who was him reached him, it said simply. "I know everything," It said these things and there was no expression at all on its face, a perfect mirror of nothing. "All your memories, everything you've gained in this dream. I am your container."
"Thank you," it said, and he felt if he could have he could have pitied it, no matter how much it could have drawn from him it would never be enough to truly live. "and goodbye."
The spear pierced clean through him in an efficient jab and without comment, without thought, he was able to fade away.
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:21 am
POST 1: sealed / Marzena
What she despised the most in the entire world was being looked down upon.
So being toyed with a higher power only served to fuel the boiling anger within her. So maybe she was nothing in the eyes of the White Queen. What could she do, after all, against an entity that had helped orchestrate all this? Even as the very last of the mirrors she had summoned shattered, taking others with it as they were manipulated into attacking those on their side, the White Queen stood, tall and magnificent.
Slowly, tendrils emanating from the Queen began to form, trapping them all in her grasp. It was all she could do to attempt to fight against it, claws raking at the cage, but a slow sense of defeat began to settle on her shoulders as the very presence of the Queen overwhelmed her senses. "No." She gasped, hands clutching the bars that imprisoned her. "No, no, no." She couldn't go like this. Not when her death would help this creature. Not when she hadn't even said her goodbyes--
The cage shattered around her. She stayed there, kneeling on the floor, wide-eyed and confused. What was...
When the puppet that looked exactly like her marched up to where she was, she was still motionless in shock. Her replica grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet, and it was then when she finally spoke again. "Who are you?
"I know everything," the other her said. "All your memories, everything you've gained in this dream. I am your container."
It was strange, to hear her own voice speaking to her. Her own voice that sounded so familiar and yet so strange; was this how her voice sounded to everyone else? "But why... what?"
"There is no time." Her replica said softly. "Thank you." A weapon began to form in the other's hands and she recognized the very curve of the lotus staff as it fully assembled before her. "And goodbye."
"Wait, no--" The staff shot cleanly through her and she looked up at the girl before her. "Wait please." She is fading fast, but she managed to reach on and grasp on to her replica's hands. "Thank yo--"
She knew enough about her true self to realize that Marzena was never one to give out thanks casually. Those words had undoubtedly held her sincerity, even as there hadn't been enough time to properly explain the full situation. "You're safe now." She murmured softly, pulling back her hands and holding the lotus staff close to her heart-- no.
She did not have a heart. She was merely a replica, a vessel with the sole purpose to contain all those memories the real girl she had been based on, had experienced here. She had been but a shell, an empty husk, created to save her original, and she was nothing more.
But all these memories within her swirled around in her mind. If she closed her eyes, she could remember everything; from when her original self had been a happier and carefree little seal. She could see every one of her family members in her mind, and recite all their names from the oldest to the very youngest. And she saw extremely clearly; the very time that had changed Marzena's life, and had helped shape her into who she was today.
She remembered everything. The anger, the resentment, and it formed a hard lump in her throat she could not swallow and a dark bitter feeling in the pits of her stomach. And as easily as she had remembered, these emotions began to direct themselves to her current situation. Why did she have to be so helpless? Why?
But she had to stay. It was because it was programmed into her very being and she could not defy her orders.
It was just like that time, years and years ago. When she could do nothing.
She is in the sea. Choppy waves surround her, as dark and black as the clouds that loom above, adding to the churning water with heavy raindrops that splattered on her, plastering her light blond hair to her skin. There is a crack and a flash of lightning lights up the sky, and her breathing is ragged, gasping as her vision swirls.
"Papa!" She yells, heart beating fast and sobs engulfing her. She is terrified, she is small, she is helpless, and she is lost. She cannot see anyone in these conditions, and she wonders if she is ever going to make it home in this state.
But she soon remembers what is important. Mama is gone. Mama is gone and all she could do was to hide behind a rock and watch. She had wanted so desperately, to leave her hiding position and swim towards the beach and help beg, but--
Mama had looked up from where she knelt, piercing blue eyes staring right at her, and shook her head ever so gently. And she had frozen in position. She could do nothing. Nothing except watch Mama get taken away and she was a failure and she couldn't do anything, not at all...
After they had left, she had immediately turned and swam as fast as she could. She had to find Papa. She had to find him and then maybe he could remedy this. Papa could, right? Papa would go and get Mama back and everything would be--
There is the rumble of thunder again in the distance and she looks around her. The water is black, the water is cold, and she sees no one at all.
"PAPA!" She yells. "PAPA!"
Her voice is growing hoarse, and her whole body feels heavy, as though there is a weight tied to her tail. She wonders if she will die here, if she will sink into these dark empty waters, all alone, and no one will know--
All that fear only reminded her of her inevitable fate. To be taken by the White Queen as a sacrifice. To be all alone as she was taken because it had always been that way. To distant herself because she, or at least, her real self, had never dealt well with proximity with others, whether it was a physical or emotional attachment. And she had every right to be.
She slips out amidst the crying, the happy babbling, the hugs.
She doesn’t quite know how to face her now, like this, after all these years. She is no longer the little girl that had hid behind that rock, and could do nothing but to watch her mother being taken away... hands grasp her fur collar and pulls it closer, as if it were a security blanket. She breathes, cold air misting her breath, and there is the crunch of snow behind her.
She had figured that her absence would be discovered, even in a family of thirteen. She doesn’t want to look behind and simply waits till whoever it is addresses her.
“Marzena.” Her heart stops, an ice cold fist clenching around it. It is her mother’s voice. “It’s not your fault.” Ilona Adriatico whispers and she feels a soft hand upon her shoulder.
She finds herself biting back tears as the memory floods back, and shakes her head with a shuddering sob. Does her mother think that she can erase the pain, the guilt, with just one sentence? Does she really think that with that, she will forget that helplessness, that anger...
She doesn’t answer, and instead runs forward, transforming as she dives into the water.
At least none of Marzena's family members were here. None of them would have to suffer like this, because they were the ones she cared for the most in the entire world.
But she wondered that if she had allowed anyone else in, that she would have someone accompanying her as she faded away into oblivion and nothingness. Maybe it would have been a comfort at the very end, even if this was her purpose all along.
A bitter smile crossed her lips as she shut her eyes and let herself be taken.
It was her fate to always be alone, anyway. And who was she to fight that?
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:22 am
[Post 1: Original (Rei)]
They didn't hear. They don't even TRY to hear his voice.
He continued to scream: "Stop it! Don't smash anymore mirror-You'll hurt someone-"
CRASH.
"Stop!"
CRASH. CRASH CRASH CRASH
Still not listening him, the sounds of many more mirrors being smashed apart drowned his plea.
There's only one mirror remaining--- CRASH!
With a trinkle of glass shards, the last mirror is broken. With that, also, one more player downed.
He wanted to yell- Was any of this even did anything to her?
But sadly, yes. The White Queen of Grief is falling apart. Like a broken mirror, or a peeling old paint, the body of the Queen is slowly eroding.
But this is not the end of this Dream. Not quite. Not even close.
For from the fragments of her destroyed body--- -something was created.
Thorns. Tendrils. Vines. It completely encircled the room, making a cage... -that trapped all of you.
"This is the end of your legacy." the Queen spoke. As she spoke, bits and pieces of you begin to fade---
She is consuming him.
"This is the rebirth of Grief. I will take your essence, your memories and make them mine. You will stay. I will stay." The cage grows smaller and so did his body.
"No! This is wrong- this is a kusoge! You don't make a game in which everyone dies! You didn't make a game in which you can't defeat a final boss!"
"You will stay," she repeats herself, and now her presence is overwhelming, as in drowning him. "You will stay in this cage. Your existence, your memories, will contain my Grief."
"No. No! I don't want to die like this---I would like to die for another people but not as sacrifice so you can---"
CRACK.
Suddenly, the cage cracked. Shattered. And they are freed.
He bolted at the very second he regained his consciousness. Suddenly-
A door appears behind the wavering remains of the White Queen. -for she wasn't out of the game yet. Nope. But one thing for sure. Anything that causes that door to appear is the very same one that causes the White Queen to temporarily disabled like thi...s?
Creak.
The door opened. Rather slowly. -but the ones behind it are causing a stir.
How come they are not?
Because an army marches out from that door.
A mix-match band of characters from all job classes- No. That's not right---
He looked at one of the faces marching out from that door. It was the Mad Hatter that helped him face Chesire...and the very same that he attacked from behind the mirror.
But she supposed to be- He looked back and there she was.
How-
"Hey." Someone grabbed his hand. He looked to the side--- -and finds him. Undying=Borg, looking straight to his face.
"I know everything," the other 'him' says to him, with a painfully familiar voice. After all, it was his. Also him. "All your memories, everything you've gained in this dream. I am your container."
"Thank you, for giving your memories to create me." said the other 'him', at last. "-wait, that means-I'm the original!?"
The other 'him' didn't reply, but only gestured a bitter smile. 'He' puts 'his' hand on Borg chest "-and goodbye. For you have to wake from this dream."
"-! You-"
CRUNCH.
A sick squelch sound was made when the huge weapon suddenly appeared in the midst of his body.
This blue glint of steel. This overly familiar shaft. Yes, it's his own weapon. Lost Memories.
"-you---"
"Rest for now, me. Your task here is done."
The other 'him' grabbed the scythe's hilt and yanked it out from his body. At the very moment the weapon left Borg's body, it transforms into a golden greatsword with a glowing eye in the middle.
"-for now on, it's mine."
As he said it, Borg's consciousness dimmed. Dimmed. -and he was gone.
Rathurue
Alien Abductee
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Rathurue
Alien Abductee
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:24 am
[Post 2: Replica (Borg)]
'He' watches as the colors fade from the puppet body of his original.
The weapon in his hand wasn't the murder weapon. At least 'anymore'.
'He' mouthed another quick 'sorry' before leaving the hollowed-out puppet body, now devoid of a 'soul'.
'He' turned and found the White Queen of Grief has recovered. The blow 'he' inflicted is only enough to knock her out a moment.
-but that moment is a very valuable one.
'He' looked at the figure, now reforming the cage. The existence that was equal to 'his' 'mother', in a sense.
For 'him'---no, all of them replicas are creation of the White Queen. -for them are sacrifices. Things. Pawn that exists only to be tossed away.
So the White Queen can repeat this thing all over again.
You see, the funny thing about memories are---if you somehow implanted a person's memories into a person that knows nothing, they will automatically assume that they are the same person as the source of the memories. That makes the implemented being a copy from the original.
But in a sense, the copy is the original of itself. Because the copy only shared the same memories, not the 'self' of the original.
Cynically, he amused himself with this thought. The cage formed again, completely. The door are already long gone.
And his body is gradually shrinking...to nothing. "True that the Original me said." 'he' said, brandishing the greatsword and slices the cage's walls. With a loud clang, the weapon broke into shards of light.
"This is a s**t game. And that's exactly why you should not lose your life playing it."
This is it. This is his part in this play. For this is the only reason 'he' was created.
But what is this feeling rising from his mind?
Is this... Fear?
"-heh." He smiled. If people living in reality fears the dream--- Then wouldn't the ones living in the dream fear the reality?
