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 Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:30 am
[ DEATH SOLO - REPLICA ]He has all the same memories. He has the mannerisms, the personality, the accent and speech patterns. Walks, or rather, strides just like the other. Spends who knows how long staring at his left arm after waking up, opening and closing his fingers, flexing his elbow, rotating his arm. He knows tactics and strategy, can tell within seconds of glancing around that someone's gathering an army (and if he doesn't like what for, knows the best ways to incite others to revolt). In every way that counts, he's David Brant. So much so, he can almost believe that he's the original and the 'Dreadpirate' playing the game is the fake, based off his memories. There's only one thing that lets him be okay with the plan when ALICE explains the sacrifice that she expects from them: the silence in his head. He stares down the other Davey, gripping his coat tight so he can't interfere with the two Joy's. "Take good care of him," he tells Azrael. "He needs you more than he'll admit." 'And he won't ever know it, until he doesn't have you.'He can predict what Azrael will say ('of course'), how he'll say it (in slightly-offended tones that anyone would think he would do anything less), and even the movement within Davey's mind that he'll make. But he can't actually hear the voice that he's grown to expect after three years constantly in each others' heads. The other Davey worries, as Davey knew he would: about him (a little flattering, with everything else that's going on), about Joy's multiple deaths (he's worried too - they lost an arm - but there's no alternative other than leaving Joy in here forever), even over Pachua's fate (though the other Davey refuses to admit it even to himself). But he accepts the plan, as Davey knew he would. This is the path that saves the most people. Even if he's not one of them. That's always been an acceptable loss, though, from the moment they enlisted. "Fight the good fight, yeah?" With his eyes closed, the automatic "Ooh rah" response could have been from any member of his squad. There was never really a chance of seeing them again, but it's worse somehow to know he'll be in here where the chance is completely zero. No more checking up on his sister from a distance. He'll never know if Jo's doing okay, if she's alone or moved on (but maybe that's a mercy). The real David Brant disappears and he swallows down his regrets. One of them will be out there, doing those things for both of them. There'll still be a David Brant to hunt the monsters, to go everywhere right and glory lead (even if it's with a different group than it used to be). He turns to check on the two Joy's, the two Pachua's, the progress of all the pairs in general. Only one Pachua remains, but the Joy's are still busy. He won't interrupt. 'The messes we get ourselves into,' he sighs mentally at Azrael out of habit. The silence is deafening. He closes his eyes, squeezing a counterpoint to the pressure building there. When he exhales, it shudders out of him. Alone, at the end. Though he kind of always knew it would end up like that. The other Davey gets Azrael. He gets a future with Joy (if he finds her, if she is in the pods). It's not fair that he doesn't get them, too. But if it wasn't for him, no one would. He can live - and die - with that. The cage rebuilds itself and the White Queen begins drawing them in again. He resists for as long as he can, moving instead to the remaining Joy's side once the original dies and is freed. He wraps his arms around this Joy - not petrified, not that it will save her from what's coming. Maybe part of his happiness is that he has two arms to do it with, can feel her warmth and strength through both of them. Maybe it's that he isn't alone after all - he might not have Azrael, but he has Joy (which is more than the real Davey has right now). Mostly, he thinks about how lucky he is to have met her. Their time was short - theirs as replicas even more so - but that doesn't make it any less important. At least they can face this end together. "He'll find her," he says in Joy's ear. He knows it, deep in his bones. David Brant keeps his promises - and he's got some solid hunting experience, after all. His eyes drift closed as he holds her tightly. The White Queen's pull grows stronger. "I'm glad I met you." "Kiss her, fool," Pachua's voice sounds from close by. Davey turns to look at the dormouse. That's all this Pachua will ever be, he realises. He'll never take serpent form again, never feed on FEAR or threaten a human. All that worry about what would happen when they woke up - he'll never have to face that problem. Kiss Joy? Maybe he should - they're about to die, after all. But first kisses...? That's really more for the living, those with futures ahead of them. He unwraps one arm from Joy and holds it out in the direction the voice came from. "Shut up and get over here, husband." In this, at least, he is more fortunate than the other Davey. He doesn't have to fear battles to come, or fumble through the possibilities of a new romance. He has the people he cares for by his side. That's more than some soldiers get. Even as his vision fades, he can still feel them pressed to his side. He's not alone. His life, brief as it was, was worth something. He had lived, and his life had mattered. And maybe he whispers three words in Joy's ear as he fades completely, or maybe he only imagines it. No one is left to know.
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:31 am
[ Death Solo - Nergui ]
It was all very familiar in a way. The wants and desires of Grief, the sound of her voice as it slipped through the air, through the mind, through the body. It penetrated like a blade, resonating, because Grief had been such a close friend of late. The priestess had worn her grief and despair like a second skin, pulling it tightly around herself, like armor, until numbness took over and there was nothing left. She had thought she was empty. Certainly she had been broken, to the point where cracks should show along ashen skin, but there were no outward signs of the jaggedness that lay just beneath the surface.
That voice breathed through the air, and the oblivion she promised seemed tragically welcome. The thorns like knives twisted, tying, knotting, circling around themselves and shrinking inward, and there was no way out. And maybe.
Just maybe.
It was alright.
A door that had not been their a second ago opened, and bodies filed out. Familiar and not, all unique, all searching for the figure that matched them in every way. She watched them, too hollow for curiosity, too empathetic in that moment for worry. But still she watched, eyes following a tall figure through the crowd as it sought out it's mirror self, until her own stepped within her field of vision. She blinked, startled, as that dark figure smiled at her. A soft, sad little curl of lips devoid of any humor, because it was her, it held her memories and her emotions.
"I know everything," she offers softly, and there is an echo of that sorrow in that familiar voice. "All your memories, everything you've gained in this dream." And a hand came up between them to smooth along dark skin, palm cupped gently against the curve of Nergui's cheek. The copy understands, she has seen, she has heard, and she has felt. All of it. Every ounce of frustration, despair, bitterness.
"I am your container." It is said with a certain finite resolve that is impossible not to understand, and Nergui's brows pinch, a frown pouting full lips, and she raising fingers to touch the back of the hand that rests on her cheek.
"Thank you," she says, leaning forward to rest brow to brow, and the priestess sinks into that soft touch, and that knowing voice. "And goodbye."
She doesn't tense as a ghosting of lips brush her cheeks, or when the blade pierces through her chest and slips between the ribs. There is nothing whole there, she is already broken, and it doesn't hurt. It's just the cool slip of steal through warm flesh, and the almost tingling spread of numbness that starts at the tip of her fingers and spreads up her hands, her arms, her legs, her body, and finally sweeps like a breeze through her mind.
There is no fear, only a sense of sadness. Loss, like rainwater cooling on her tongue, then nothing as she slips to the ground and falls to her side, the glow dimming from her golden eye.
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:31 am
[Second post, Replica Divinity]
He watched himself die and felt nothing. He had set himself free and that was the most he could do. Perhaps he would avoid that moment he had witnessed where he would never see America fall. Perhaps he would never wake. It did not matter.
He was a container and he watched the memories gleaned move and shift, all hollow and empty, all bottomless and somehow sad, because it was a language he could speak even if his other could not. But he was not sad as the queen drew him in, as memories ebbed away like water from a leaky bucket. And he did not mind. This was purpose. And his other had never had purpose and maybe never would.
And as he ceased to be, the last clinging memory slithered through his fingers.
He is comatose.
And then he too was gone.
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:32 am
[ Death Solo - Replica Nergui ]
It is sadness that fills mismatched eyes as the priestess fell to her knees and finally her side. It is sadness, and maybe a little relief, that fills that silver and gold as she watches the shine of Insanity, of life, flicker and die like a candle at the end of it's wick. "It's better this way." She knows this, because she is the priestess, and she has not suffered as long, and she can hold onto hope, because it has not yet shriveled and died. She knows, because she is not yet hollow as the original is so close to being. "Trust me," she tells the motionless figure at her feet. "You will see."
She can say this with conviction because she holds the whole of the mare inside her. Everything, in equal form. The despair is there, the hurt and the heartbreak, like some fresh wound, but it has not festered, and it is just one more part of the whole. One more drop in the cup of memories and experiences.
A child prodigy in a tower library, reading, teaching herself, playing chess with a dark skinned boy or a pale beauty a few years older. Every instances, every flicker of remembered emotion. It was all there, all crisp and new. Proud parents, a music box smashed at her feet in a jealous fit, the destruction of their home, the lose of everyone she had ever known or loved. The first startling brush of Insanity, like static in her mind. Soren's presences like a calming balm, Lifen's patient influence, Bastions lasting adoration. Bits and pieces, happiness and sadness, peace and sorrow. It was all there.
She was the priestess of Death. A perfect replica. The cold beauty that had finally thawed. More now, with all the emotional wounds, than she ever would have been if tragedy had not struck their home lands.
Every thing together built up to form a whole, and she understood that, better than her real self, because she was brand knew, and though she felt everything, remembered everything, she could take that step back that allowed her to hold onto reason.
As the Queen drew her in she was at peace. She was made for this, after all. This was her purpose, and she had always been a practical creature. Sacrifices were needed, an unavoidable necessity.
The thorns closed in, shrinking around them, and she lifted her gaze from the figure at her feet so she could search the crowd for the one she knew meant more to the mare than anything else. She searched until she spotted the dark hair, the tanned skin, the brush of fur, and lastly those eyes, like candied apples. And she smiled, a knowing smile, as the cage closed in around them.
"This is the end of your legacy." The queen spoke, but the mare barely heard. Panic rose in a small flutter, but she squashed it down, shoved it away. This was the end, but it was okay.
The memories were fading, and with them the bit of emotions and pain, and through it all she watched him, and she smiled, and at the very end she reached for him, because she could do nothing else. Because she was a priestess, and bond or not, he had been her guardian, and she loved him.
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:41 am
Post 1 - Quinn McGonagall
(Snagging posts to fill in~)
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:42 am
Post 2 - Replica - DreamCatcher
(Snagging posts to fill in~)
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:43 am
[ POST 1: Jake Cross ]
He felt himself fall. He thought he had seen her in his final moments, and it was then that regret settled in. Regret that he hadn't apologized, hadn't told her what really mattered. But then he felt himself rise, felt his head lift. This... was...
Why was he coming back? Hadn't he...
He watched silently as the white queen began to break apart, piece by piece. Were they brought back because she had been defeated? But, then, why...
A silent gasp as he was suddenly surrounded as a thorny cage, and he grit his teeth as the queen spoke. Take his essence? Surely she didn't mean...
But then the cage started to shrink, and he understood all too well what she had meant. He knew all were bound to die sooner or later, but to imagine his death would be in such a place...
At least, that was what he had thought, until the cage suddenly shattered, and he felt he could finally breath again. Not wasting any time, he pulled himself away from the remains of the cage, raising his own weapons as he glared at the queen. But then he saw a door, a door that suddenly opened, and in came an army of puppets that looked just like... them? He felt a pair of hands take his, and as he turned to see who it was, his mouth fell open, shock on his face. It was... him?
They spoke, in his voice, and even as they explained everything, he still didn't understand. His... container?
He was even more puzzled when they thanked hum, but when he saw them pull out a weapon, identical to his own, fear flashed across his face.
"Wait. I-"
A sharp gasp escaped his lips as the katar buried itself into his stomach, and with shock, he stared back at himself, his replica, his container as it also stared back at him, no form of emotion on his face. For some reason, it didn't hurt, but he felt as if it cut into his entire being, that with that single stab, he himself was slowly unraveling.
He wanted to say something else, ask why, ask what this all meant, but the weapon plunged deeper, and he felt himself fall. The last he saw was the puppet's emotionless face as everything went dark.
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:43 am
Post 1 - Remi
(Snagging posts to fill in~)
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:44 am
Post 2 - Replica - AblooFox
(Snagging posts to fill in~)
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:53 am
[Death Solo]
He had died, a mirror had shattered as a figured crashed through hitting him for one last time as he collapsed to the floor. His mirror clattering to the floor as it slipped through his fingers, his breath growing ragged until his lungs emptied out the last breath of air. A smile lingered on his lips, he was not surprised by it, he was never surprised that he would be ended so easily in such an event. He had always been a healer but never, never a fighter. However, he was a live, he could feel his body struggling to regain his breath as it twitched for him to get off the floor. Looking up he watched, he watched as the queen began fade her mirrors shattering as the glass scatters across the ground. He could feel his body lifted up by strings as the queen flickered, her long vines stretching across the black ground from where she laid. She was melting, into the floor as the light started to grow fainter and fainter, but she still remained. Pulling him closer he watched as the vines continued to wrap around him, twisting and bending as they moved with a missions to build something. A cage, a white crude cage made of grief as the queen’s voice ranged out.
“This is your legacy….” He voice continued to rang, sinking deep with his body as he felt his heart shake in terror of it. There was something wrong, something really wrong as she spoke resonating deep within him. He could feel his fingers first, his fingers shaking as they started to fade away. One by one they faded away before his feet started to fade as well. The cage was started to grow tighter, twisting around, wrapping as it closed in on him.
“You will stay…” The cage continued to grow smaller, even himself as the thorns started to threaten to pierce him. He was slowly disappearing, slow disappearing away as he tried hitting the side of his cage with his spiked mirror. It did nothing, as the tendrils threatened to rip him apart as they dragged the cage closer, and closer to the queen. There was little he could do, as the fear of death started to creep into his mind. Why, why was he brought back to life only to have to deal with dying all over again.
“I’m sorry…” He whispered as he held the mirror out in front of him, he could feel it all started to fade away as death drew nearer.
The cage shattered as he fell to the floor gasping for breath as the white fragments scattered across the ground. He was so close, he had been so close to dying as he wrapped his fingers around the mirror as started to wiggle each one. Still alive, still alive, he had been so close to dying and yet he was alive.
He had to continue to exist.
A door opened as the ground began to shake, footsteps he could hear them marching across the ground. There was so many, so many others walking across the floor each one a replica. A replica of someone else already in the room, his eyes grew wide as he was confused. Looking around he watched each of them greeting their other half, like twins meeting for the first time after such a long separation due to some sort of parent trap story. A hand wrapped around his pulling him towards the door, it was him a complete perfect replica of himself. Matt’s mouth dropped a little, there was no way such a thing existed. But this was a game, this was the white queen’s world full of mirrors anything could be nothing more than a reflection.
But his hand it felt real as he smiled at him. It was strange to see him, it was strange to see himself smile in an encouraging manner in return.
“I know everything,” he said, his voice matching his exactly.
“Then… then do you remember? Remember her?” Matt replied his voice stressed with worry was the replica grew him closer.
Drawing him in he whispered into his ear, “Sarah.” A smile spread on his lips as he pushed him away and rose the spiked mirror above Matt’s head and brought it down in a swift movement.
The sensation stretched across his chest as Matt collapse to his knees looking up at himself still smiling, the same smile he gave to everyone to tell them it would all be ok. Matt returned the smile as his body collided into the ground.
It was over.
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:55 am
[ REPLICA VERSION: ]
The replica, no the now Matt looked at himself on the floor as he watched the smile faded away from his lips. He stepped forward, walking towards the queen as a voices started to flow through is mind. Memories, memories of Matt everything including the one he had chosen to forget, the birth of his little sister, all the hospital trips, the memories looking up to him, words of encouragement, everything Sarah had done he remembered them all.
Toys… Yes, this Matt’s only goal was to replace the real one, despite all the feelings he was only created for on purpose and that was to please the white queen. All the dreams were not his to begin with, they belonged to the other, he had merely only borrowed them, filled his mind like reading a book full of information. Matt wondered, he wondered what it would have been like living a real life, a life like the other Matt. But it would never happen, he would have to be satisfied with what he had.
Borrowed memories.
The cage appeared wrapping around as her voice rang out, resonating through his body as she spoke. The cage growing smaller as he watched his fingers fading way, his body growing smaller and smaller as the cage closed in even more. He started to panic, he could feel the worry bubbling it up in his throat as his breath started to grow ragged. There was no doubt, he was going to die there he was going to fade away from all existence in front of the white queen. The thought of maybe it all had been better, better to not have existed at all then face this pain, this death. The thought crossed his mind as her smile only to fade from his mind.
The cage was complete, as everything in Matt's last world turned to grief.
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:55 am
[ POST 2: Replica - sombra_mueca ]
Only when he saw him fall did he finally pull the blade out, lowering his arm, and he turned to face the queen.
"In dreams, new memories are created,"
"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."
He remembered when he first came into this world, his bewilderment, anger, fear, and then relief and joy when he had found a friend. But... these weren't his. It didn't belong to him. His purpose, after all, was just to save the creator. To keep him from perishing and allow him to return to the life he came from. To help him continue his journey and move on, to give him the opportunity to live life freely as he should. All those options were not his own. He existed for one purpose, and it was to save, but this salvation was not for him.
The cage suddenly enveloped him, and he watched as the door from which he came from vanish.
"This is the end of your legacy."
"This is the rebirth of Grief. I will take your essence, your memories and make them mine. You will stay. I will stay."
He shouldn't be afraid. This was his purpose after all. But he couldn't help but feel fear, almost wishing there was another alternative. He gripped the cage as it slowly shrank, a small bittersweet smile on his face. Even as his presence vanished, and all that remained was grief, he felt he had finally completed his role.
Please. Live.
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 9:28 am
POST 1: HadesKnight / Erebus
It is then when he realized that this was all a futile effort.
She was playing them. Whichever Queen they defeated first, they would still have ended up in this exact same scenario where they were trapped with nowhere to go, albeit a few minor changes.
And they could not even die.
He was never terrified of death. What he was terrified of was loss. If they all continued to stay her, their real bodies would never wake up. He had once naively believed that it would be alright in the end; it was just some crazy dream that they would all wake up from eventually.
But not anymore. Not with the knowledge that his brother was here. Thack was here too, trapped by the White Queen, but he could not see his brother anywhere in sight as he wrestled with the bars.
This was it, wasn't it? A sense of dread slowly dawned on him as his grip faltered. He had failed his brother again. He could do nothing in the face of his disaster even if he knew that the person he had sworn to be a better big brother to, was here, witnessing this exact same fiasco as he did.
He couldn't have known from the very beginning, and yet Erebus still blamed himself. "You can take me." He whispered, shoulders sagging as tears formed in his eyes. "Just let my brother go." It was a weak offer, considering that he had no bargaining chip whatsoever, no power in the face of this overwhelming and crushing defeat.
And then the cage around him shattered.
The shock barely registered. His sole thought now was to find his brother, and he tried desperately to elbow through the puppets in an attempt to look for Thack. There wasn't even a next step to his current plan; all he could think of was to make sure that his brother was alright--
Someone grabbed his hand. He turned around and relief almost split his face because that person looked so much like him that he thought it was Thackery for a moment.
Realization slowly dawned upon him as the other held him firm and he got a chance to look properly at the figure before him. It was not Thackery. It was not even Arthur.
It was him.
"I know everything," the other him said. The voice he had sounded so familiar; like Thack's except with less peppiness and energy, like Arthur's except with less gruffness. It was his voice, calm and steady, with a hint of sorrow to it. "All your memories, everything you've gained in this dream. I am your container."
"What about Thack?" He asked, reeling from it all. "What about my brother?"
"The both of you will be safe now." The replica said, as he fingered something in his hands. It was a dagger, and connected to it on either side were two other daggers, all linked together by a chain. It was the very weapon that had manifested from the dream that had brought him into this place.
"Thank you." He said.
"No." The replica replied, a sad smile upon his lips. "Thank you." Something shot through him and he looked down, only to realize that he had been stabbed cleanly in the chest. But there was no pain, no blood, and he felt himself slowly dissipating. "And goodbye."
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 9:29 am
POST 2: HadesKnight / Erebus [REPLICA VERSION]
He watched as the original version of himself disappeared completely, leaving no trace behind on the weapon he held in his hands. Every bit and fiber of Erebus was gone, except for the memories he held inside of him. The cage slowly reformed around him and he found himself facing the White Queen in his original's place.
This was his destiny all along. He had been created as a sacrifice, to be a placeholder to save his original self. The one that had created all these memories that resided within him, who was a real life being outside there beyond this dream world.
He could not move. Could not fight because this was what he had been programmed to do. All he could do was stand here motionless in his cage as the White Queen began to consume him instead. Memories began to swirl around him, and he saw what was a happy and normal childhood.
Three black puppies, the pride of their family, and with the added bonus of triplets being a honor and delight in the eyes of the Cerberus clan. Three brothers, as close as the Cerberus of old legend was, so close that it was mistaken that the Cerberus was one being alone; a ferocious beast with three heads.
He then wondered then and there where the replica of Thackery was. His original had been privy to the knowledge that his younger brother was here, and had been solely concerned with his safety. He was sure that the replica would have carried out his duties as he did, but he also found himself possessing a slight tinge of worry.
It was strange. He was not related to that replica, even if their originals were. They had not known each other while being kept behind the door. And yet, still, memories of the brothers' time together, coupled with the affection and love they had for one another, rose within him.
But they would not suffer because they were not real, he reasoned.
The brothers were now safe. Safe to find each other once again, and build on the time they had spent apart from each other.
He could only wish them well from here as he waited for his inevitable fate; to disappear into nothing.
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 9:52 am
[ Death Solo - Peyton ]
She had died. Attacks had come from all sides, unexpected and unavoidable, and she had died while still clutching Noah's hands. Everything had dimmed, she had felt herself fade, but it had not lasted, and she stood puzzled, revived, frightened, and she clung to the dormouse now as the voice of Grief swept over them and thorns closed in all around, interweaving, tangling. The gnarled bars of a huge cage, and as she watched those bars began to creep closer.
She didn't notice the door, not until a pink haired figure came to stand before her. "I know everything!" The voice is her own, and it's sure and confident, and the complete opposite of what she was feeling in that moment. "All your memories, everything you've gained in this dream." Those glossed lips twist into a knowing smile as the copy rocks back on her heels, hands on her hips. "I am your container."
Whatever doubt the Hunter feels, it's not shared by the doppleganger that stands before her, smiling, at ease. "Why?"
"You know why. You would do the same, if you could."
It's true, Peyton had always been selfless. always tried to put the needs of others above the needs of her own. Tried, and for the most part succeeded. She understands, and it takes some of the doubt from delicate features as she gives a small dip of her chin in a nod.
"Thank you," she says, and the smile grows, lips splitting into a bright grin as the odd spear appears in her hand, thin line wrapped around her wrist, hook dangling. "And goodbye."
She had half expected it, but still she gasped as the sharp tip was thrust forward, sinking into her stomach and out her back, and she staggers, folding over the pole and waited for pain that never came.
Sacrifice she understood, but this didn't make sense. She didn't know what was happening, and the fear rolled back over her as she dropped to her knees and spear pulled free of her body. And still the other her smiled, reassuring and bright. Staring down as darkness crept in around the corners and closed in around her until the world was black and all thought faded.
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![[A.V.]'s avatar](https://a1cdn.gaiaonline.com/dress-up/avatar/ava/8d/f2/221070ca3ff28d_flip.png?t=1546143856_6.00_11&pl=15)
