The ground was cold, hard, and unforgiving. Even more so because Titus couldn't remember how or why he was there. It was like he was waking from a deep sleep and his mind was abuzz with chatter, even more so than usual. The nightmares that filled his mind had been pushed to the far recesses of his brain and he could feel something else crawling its way into place to take up residence. It made him uneasy like a persistent itch beneath his skin that he couldn't scratch.
The voice he heard gave him no real comfort either and Titus wasn't sure which made him feel worse, the fact that those words were meant to leave him feeling doubt or the fact that it had come from within his own mind.
The very last word resonated within his skull and he winced from the blunt pain it caused as well as the sudden and intense pain in his leg. When he opened his eyes Titus found that he had been captured by the vines he had seen earlier. They had crawled their way up his leg, thorns piercing flesh and settling in. He winched again, growling as the plant began to drag him toward the center, it was like karma had finally caught up to him.
"Let go you over grown weed." He hissed, trying to break free. The vines themselves were too strong and too bright to even look at. They burned into Titus' vision until he could barely see anything else and had to look away or risk being sick. He continued to fight, struggling to get his leg free but the humming that had started as a dull noise in the background was now an intense roar in his ears.
He fought to hold on but he could feel himself slipping away the closer he was dragged to the center and as the distance grew shorter understanding began to bloom. He knew why he was being pulled in or at least so he thought. He just needed to let go, who he was wasn't that important. Not that he could really remember. What had been his name?
Light faded out again as Titus went under wondering if there had been anything before this.
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 3:18 pm
[ DREAM SCENARIO: WHITE DOOR ]
It had been months since he had seen someone else. It was hard to imagine what another human face looked like, what contact felt like. He had been here so long that loneliness had crept away and left him numb to it. This almost felt normal and yet Cecil knew it was wrong. The madness dancing at the edges of his consciousness told him that much.
That was why when a voiced called out to him from the void of nothingness his heart leaped. He knew that voice. In all his years he would probably never forget it. He had earned for it, dreamed of it, and it had haunted him all the same.
His lover stood there stark against the blinding white of nothing holding out his hand and waiting. There was freedom waiting in that outstretched hand, Cecil knew that and his heart was suddenly pounding away in anticipation. He hadn't realized how lonely he had been. How miserably alone.
There was only a split second of hesitation before Cecil took hold of that hand and was lead out into a completely different world. It was bright, colorful, almost blinding. The noise made his head pound and each brief contact with something new felt like a shock to his system. It was overwhelming and it was wonderful.
With each new thing he experienced he couldn't help but feel joy from it. He wanted to absorb as much as he could but when he would turn back to something for a second look or another taste it was gone. Everything was so fleeting even things that seemed like they would last forever. The pattern continued just like that until he finally came to realize the things that felt so fleeting weren't just fading away. They were being taken. Destroyed.
Suddenly the air was stale and smelt of nothing and he could see his lover smiling. His touch was suddenly numb and food was tasteless in his mouth. Cecil didn't know how but he knew his lover was to blame. They just continued to smile and nod like it was natural. Things that were good had to be taken away. You only appreciated them when they were gone.
Finally his sense of sight began to fade. The light and color that he had enjoyed most of all lapsed into darkness and he was left with nothing again. Just alone.
As Shaun did his final backflip and prepared to land, the dream shattered. He was in the hallway again, himself again, no longer the master of the crowd. He felt regret, but in the end, that crowd had been so unruly, so unhappy, so upset...
What are you capable of, Shaun he asked himself, because it was himself asking. It was the question he had dared not ask when he was younger, had ignored when he was older, and – only now – did he really dare to try to answer.
But when he did try, he found he didn't know.
As he realized this, he noticed that the doors were no longer the same. Red, violet, and gold met his eyes, and he hesitated before opening the door that called to him, the door he knew he should open... the gold door....
---
He was a king. They had all said that he was born in poverty, doomed to live in poverty, doomed to die in poverty, the time between birth and death only lengthened by his wits and my his ability to leech off of the hard work of others. But they were wrong, he was noble, born to rule from a golden throne. His respect was earned, hard won, but eventually all respected him in their own way. He was not a god, he was not perfect, but this was why they loved him. He was loved.
All was in balance. Commands were obeyed, life was lived. He was born, he grew old, he died, and all was well, he was proud of his life. Everything was as it should be, no better or worse than it had been. He had done well...
Shaun closed his eyes.
He had done well.
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 3:51 pm
[DREAM SCENARIO: THE GOLD DOOR]
As the dream reaches it's end, it shatters and Ellie finds herself in the black room once more! "M-mmm!" she mumbles as she pulls back and puts a hand to her head before shaking it a bit! That... Dream, wasn't exactly a pleasant one... But, wait? Was that a dream within a dream? Or was it just part of the overall dream she was dreaming now...? Ellie decided to go with the latter as she realizes there were three more doors! A Violet one, a Gold one, and a Red one... These side dreams must be important...
This time, though generally curiously, Ellie looks over the three doors more carefully. However, just like last time, only one door really resonated with her... The Gold Door... Nodding to herself, Ellie walks over and turns the handle on the Gold door. Just as the time before, the door flings itself open at her touch and sucks her inside!
----
She was... A King! Or a Queen rather. A Queen of a beautious and prosperous Kingdom! Arumious, the gilded city of commerce!
Arumious, not being a very large kingdom, was medium in size. It was smaller then the great Black, White, and Red Kingdoms. But, it was bigger then the smaller Purple, Yellow, Brown, Blue, Light Blue, and Green Kingdoms. It was medium sized, it was balanced. It was also centrally located. To get from one kingdom to the next, one ultimately might have to pass through Arumious! This is why it became the Commerce Kingdom it did. Better het, it even boardered the sea! They could even entertain foreign traders!
Arumious, city of prosper, city if gold, literally was gilded in gold! Everywhere one looked there was gold! Gold on the buildings, gold on the lamp posts, gold among the very stones which paved the road! And most of all, gold on every citizen! Nobody was poor in Arumious! Not if you worked hard that is... And if you did not, you were supported. Arumious had the funds, they could support the poor! But the poor were the poor and all knew who was who.
Ellie was the hereditary Queen of this glorious Kingdom of gold! Succession went to the first born, regardless of gender. Her brother, second in line, felt no animosity towards her rule and even pitied her for the restricted life she led. But it was a life she enjoyed! Groomed to take the throne from infanthood, all Ellie knew was her life and duty as Queen. She worked hard as her people did, and kept the promises she made. Arumious prospered like never before under her rule! And yet... It was, a bit lonely... Her Knights respected her, her people glorified her, but... She was never really one of them... She was their Queen, someone higher then them... Too high to reach it seemed...
She had no true friends to speak if, and even ger friendly acquaintances were regarded with the natural caution that any good ruler needed. Even her most trusted advisers weren't people she could truely call friends...
Still, overall it was a pleasant life; one rich, and full of fufillment. One that was balanced. It had it's hardships of course, The War of the Goddesses had certainly been a harrowing time, and the war of the treaty broken had been nerve racking as well. But she and her Kingdom had nade it through. Ellie wasn't a goddess like the rulers of the Black and White Kingdoms, but she was a Queen, one who'd done everything she said she would. One who protected and nourished the Kingdom that was passed down to her, the one she would now pass down to her kin. Her children loved her and had been groomed to take the throne as she had, they loved the Kingdom and vowed that it would continue to proper! The Kingdom was stable it was sure. Even as she passed away, it would still be there... It was her's, no all members of the Arumiousa family's legacy!
As she lay on her death bed with all her loved ones around her, it was this thought that brought her comfort in her last moments... Arumious was balance, it was peace...
Rikku Takanashi
Friendly Guardian
Offline
Rockbender
Offline
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 3:57 pm
[Rescuer POV]
Herman woke up with his human draped over his back like the heavy, smell cape that some of his relatives preferred. A moment told him she was, once again, unconscious. He got the odd feeling that the attack that she just made on him had been sort of a half conscious effort at best and he would be safe to move...
“Wait...” the vampire thought: “When was the last time I was properly asleep?” Herman looked around and shivered against the impossibly cold atmosphere around him. “More like atmos-fear” he thought grimly as unbidden images and mental commands began to surface in his mind. Finally conscious, he was able to make out words in his mind... words that were getting stronger...
"They did not tell you." Herman's head began to hurt from the 'volume' of the speaker... "I know their secret weapon. I will find it. Even if you do not know, it is a matter of eventuality. My knowledge increases. This is my awakening." And for the second time in quite a while, Herman's brain shut off for a while...
“Secret Weapon???” Herman thought when he woke... “Secret Weapon against who? The pamphlet didn't mention a 'Secret Weapon'.” He rubbed his temple and pondered 'awakening'. It didn't sound good... If it's a big bad and it's still mostly asleep, it should probably remain that way.”
THUMP... THUMP... THUMP...
“Eh?” he thought and felt something sharp grab his left leg. He looked at his legs and his vision stung again at the sight of the vines. Now they were pulsing and twitching and trying to drag him away into a distant brain-shaped conglomeration of vines. Herman tried to pull away from the vines, but they continued to drag him along the highway. He found he could only concentrate at the cold cement and the unabsorbed buildings around him, as looking at anything involving the vines hurt his head.
He felt his mind being emptied as he heard the voice in his head again. It's message was simple: surrender and become part of this new network of understanding... lose your individuality... your experiences are mine now... all your base are belong to us... you are one sheaf of wheat in a harvest... when the avalanche has begun, it is too late for the pebbles to vote...
Herman's mind was assaulted by these feelings as his body was dragged along the highway. He couldn't even spare a moment to glance at his human.
Deep in his mind, Herman fought back: “This is worse than when Grandpa Morgan got involved with those religious nuts.” he thought. “Well, let's start with what beat them, then.” He squared his 'mental' shoulders, mentally tugged on his sash, and began repeating “My name is Herman Thascales deMark and I am a unique being!” he kept repeating it in his mind as he continued to try to escape the thorns.
Soon, it became academic whether he was thinking at all: even if he was resisting, that huge mound of foliage ahead of him was overfull of beings that had given up and were part of the gestalt.
He was shocked he could still pull words like 'gestalt' out of his rapidly-emptying brain.
He again started his internal mantra and... “What was his name again?” With a even more powerful shock, he realized that he had no idea how long he had been in this situation... was he now part of the vine creature?
“My name is...” he thought...
“My name...”
“My...”
OOC
Name: Herman Thascales deMark Faction: Halloween Suspecies/Division: Non-Sparkly Vampire General appearance: Herman is about 6' 6" tall and about 160 lbs... He always wears bone-white shirts and dark blue pants. He also always wears a red sash across his left shoulder that is tied to his belt. He has very faded blonde hair as if he had been in the sun too long, and his eyes are the same color... only changing to a dull red when he gets angry. HP: 30 / 30
OOC
Character's name: Charlotte Dee "Shard" Williams Character's faction: Mall Character's journal link: Shard's Journal Character's survival stats: Charlotte Dee WilliamsView HERE BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER "Shard" is a very physically fit 5' 10" woman who is only three months out of the Army due to a medical discharge. She has blue eyes and dark-ish blonde hair that seems messy and matted no matter how she tries to style it. She tends to dress in baggy pants (with lots of pockets) and light jackets over plain shirts... and this was *before* joining the military! She was given a medical discharge when an accident dealing with a live grenade cost her her left pinkie finger and most of the feeling in that hand.
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 4:01 pm
[ rescuer pov - thezil ]
Something rattled in his skellyvision, or -- just past it, in his core. Waves of exhaustion roil over Thezil's consciousness, a startling revelation.
But it doesn't last, as nothing seems to.
A wall has always been, and will always be, just a wall.
Shard's dreams were always of a boring nature. Before Day Zero, she could count on the days of one hand (even her left one) the number of nightmares she had had and could remember.
Since Day Zero, nightmares had been more frequent, but at least she still didn't remember them.
Until this one.
A sequence or montage of images assaulted Shard... some images were from the far past, some more recent. Some made her laugh, cry, all of the ranges of emotions were experienced. She felt her 'feeling' muscles stretched to their limit. Even putting her hands in front of her 'eyes' couldn't stop the painful display of her internal psyche...
...more...
...more...
...more...
Then the mental 'whirring' stopped and Shard looked... Before her were three 'doors' one Black, one Blue, and one White.
It was the Black of Terror and the Blue of Sorrow, so she leaped at the white...
It opened and she was swept in and her memories of herself all began to merge. It was as if all her memories of places, things, movies, all were mixed up and presented as if to say: “Shard: This is Your Life!”
She dimly remembered a white box... all alone by herself... no hunger... no thirst... no infected... no undying... no vines... no fog... no contact at all... Shard dimly began to wish for the dubious 'friendships' with her fellow Mall denizens over this void...
“A voice? From behind this wall?... or This one?” Shard's mind swam. “Whose voice was that? … Cousin Cynthia?”
The door to the room opened and, indeed, it was her Cousin Cynthia who beckoned from beyond the room. Shard's mind could barely take in the concept of 'color' again after her long isolation, but she stepped through and took Cynthia's hand.
“We must look at all of your memories, dearie, and decide which to keep!” she instructed. Shard nodded and the parade of images began. She was more than happy to see old memories of sad or embarrassing events get shattered to pieces, but when her Cousin began shattering good ones, Shard reacted in horror and turned to her.
“Only memories of me are good ones, dearie!” she said with a look of madness in her eyes. Shard jumped away, repelled at the madness she had just witnessed. She turned and ran out of the room. She had to hide from her favorite relative or she was lost...
OOC
Character's name: Charlotte Dee "Shard" Williams Character's faction: Mall Character's journal link: Shard's Journal Character's survival stats: Charlotte Dee WilliamsView HERE BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER "Shard" is a very physically fit 5' 10" woman who is only three months out of the Army due to a medical discharge. She has blue eyes and dark-ish blonde hair that seems messy and matted no matter how she tries to style it. She tends to dress in baggy pants (with lots of pockets) and light jackets over plain shirts... and this was *before* joining the military! She was given a medical discharge when an accident dealing with a live grenade cost her her left pinkie finger and most of the feeling in that hand.
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 4:32 pm
[ DREAM SCENARIO: BLUE DOOR ]
They had tried to ruin her, then, by pulling off the thorns of her stem, until she lacked teeth. But Genevieve had not gone quietly into that good night. She'd curled her lips over her fangs and waited, banked her embers for a colder night, waiting for a chance to flare them into the forest fire she'd always known she could become.
And now, as a god, fingers outstretched, it didn't matter.
Everything she'd ever touched had burnt to ashes, had seen its zenith come and go, the event horizon come to pass and faded into dull grey.
She was a god, now, eternal and unyielding. The world was aging, fading, and all she'd known was disappearing into dust, blowing away on the wind. Every choice was hers to make, but was there a point, when the life of a human was inconsequential?
Genevieve breathed and there came a storm, roaring across the Pacific. She wept, and the Earth's crust cracked, splitting into two, her fingers pooling molten lava at its seam, magma spilling from her eyes, forming mountains and islands as they hit the sea.
The cycle would continue. She would become the mist, consumed.
OOC
Character's name: Red 7, Red Jenny, Lucky 7 -- She answers to them all, really. Character's faction: mall - assistant Character's journal link:here Character's survival stats: JeffView BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Lucky 7 is an older lady, in her early sixties, with graying red-orange hair, pale skin, and a spattering of freckles. She's dressed like poison ivy, but fully covere, and usually has a bit of a faraway look in her eyes.
Depending on the mood you catch her in, she's either indulgent and fond, or kind of flighty and a bit of a mad jackal.
Finn woke up, disoriented and cold, wondering just when he had fallen asleep to begin with. The last thing he remembered was...no, it was too hazy, his memories a blur, and there was a constant buzzing, a relentless droning in his head, a presence, an entity, the entity, one that was invasive, one that would take and take and take.
He struggled against it, at first, mentally pushing it away, trying to close it off, but there was no way to stop it as it skimmed through his every personal thought, his every feeling, his entire life laid out like a story for it to read.
And then it spoke, and each word was like an ice pick to Finn's brain, filling him with hopeless amounts of pain, his mind writhing in an agony it had never wanted to experience again. He was on the brink of passing out again, and he felt that it would be a relief to do so, if it would just make it all stop.
Blessedly, that moment came, but all too soon, it ended as Finn awoke a second time, this time to the sound of a heavy thump, one that came again and again, but which origins he could not discern. He couldn't move, could barely think, could barely focus and had no idea just what was going on. When the pain struck, this time piercing flesh instead of mind, he cried out, before gritting his teeth against it, head straining forward, eye straining to see.
And then he did see. He saw the vines, covered in thorns, twisting tightly around his leg, digging in, unrelenting in their grasp. It began to pull him, and again, he tried to fight it, but found that he couldn't. He had no strength, he had no means of defending himself. As he was dragged across the ground, he saw the other masses of vines, pulsating as if alive, as if breathing, as if each had it's own heartbeat. But gazing upon them made him feel nauseated, made bile rise in his throat and made his head throb all the more. He was forced to avert his eye, and focus on something else. The floor. The floor seemed safe. Eventually, the nausea ebbed away.
The further he was pulled along, the louder the droning in his mind became, not allowing for him to ever forget that it was there, a reminder that the invasion on his thoughts was unyielding and would never cease. The louder that hum became, the more he felt his mind grow heavy again, as his tentative grasp on his consciousnesses was slowly pried away. The words came again, but this time it was different. This time it was like the words did not actually need to be spoken in his mind, they just were. He just simply understood. He no longer felt like an individual person, but more a part of a greater whole, his thoughts, his memories, just another part. He was not singular. He was not special in his own way. He, most simply put, just no longer was.
No. That wasn't right. He was somebody. He was an individual. These thoughts, these memories, these emotions, they were all his, and they belonged to nobody else! He could not let them be taken, and he definitely was not going to give them up so easily. He clung to each memory, the ones he held most dear, the ones that kept him human even when he felt anything but. He needed to remember. He needed to---
It was too late. His mind was being stripped and no matter how hard he fought, no matter how hard he grasped, he could not stop it. There was nothing of him left to fight for, not that he even wished to fight. He was nothing, a nobody, with no name, no past, and, quite certainly, no future.
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 4:52 pm
[ RESCUER POV ]
Aphrodi woke. Had he drifted off to sleep watching over the human? There was a ringing, a buzzing in his head. Like an insect had crawled into his brain. He shivered. The cold here-
"They did not tell you."
Aphrodi's head swung to the side, the words like a ice-pick to the brain, his head began to spin.
"I know their secret weapon. I will find it. Even if you do not know, it is a matter of eventuality. My knowledge increases. This is my awakening."
Awakening. It struck Aphrodi like a physical blow and his sight dimmed away.
*thump* ... *thump* ... *thump-thump* ... Wrap.Squeeze. "Rarowl!" Aphrodi roared out in pain as something pierced his leg and he was pulled from unconsciousness. Vines, wrapped around his leg, pulling at him. The Byakko digs his claws into whatever is below him, scrambling for a hold. The vines are everywhere and just moments of looking around is enough to make Aphrodi feel sicker, makes his head swim. He focuses downward, where he's dug in, trying to halt the creeping vines from dragging him backwards. He's already left several feet of deep gouges with his claws as he's resisted.
The words are echoing in his head again, threatening to overwhelm his own thoughts. Slowly the struggling grows weaker. He's... part of... it... Not one... but many... many... many... Events begin to flow through his mind. The carnival. The creeple who raised him. The Big Cats, the little cats. His first memory. It was cold and dark. Hello? Is anyone there? Brightness, a light. FEAR. And then... he's older now, he's being taught to read. He can speak, he's given his own place to sleep. Why can't he stay with the other cats? More flashes and time keeps moving. He wants to thank the circus, for everything. So he becomes their cannon act. He isn't a little cat like those, but they view him as one of them, just like all the circus does. The flashes are moving too fast now to catch and hold onto any one. Til it stops on a view looking over buildings and so many youths. This is... this was...
Something struggles to piece together all the fading bits. Laughter at a bubble bath, the faces of creeple unknown, talking with others, the touch of a lover, the feeling of wind through feathered wings, the rush of ice cold sea water all around, spinning... spinning... all around...
Why struggle? He is them. They are him. All are one. Many. Many. The thought strums through his body like a pulse.
OOC
Name: Aphrodi Pyewacket Karneval Faction: Halloween, Y1 Student Subspecies/Division: Demon, Byakko General appearance: A giant White Tiger with longer fur around all four ankles and at the shoulder blades that billow about even when there is no wind. His right eye is blue and his left eye is orange. He's fairly large in natural form, five foot at the shoulder. Journal. HP: 30/30
OOC
Knocked out. large gash over his right eye. Character's name: Calab Character's faction: Mall Character's journal link:HERE Character's survival stats: #63 BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Brown hair, green eyes. He stands at 5'7. HP: 50/50
She did what she had to do to survive, and that meant destroying them, one by one.
It was what they wanted, after all.
OOC
Character's name: Red 7, Red Jenny, Lucky 7 -- She answers to them all, really. Character's faction: mall - assistant Character's journal link:here Character's survival stats: JeffView BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Lucky 7 is an older lady, in her early sixties, with graying red-orange hair, pale skin, and a spattering of freckles. She's dressed like poison ivy, but fully covere, and usually has a bit of a faraway look in her eyes.
Depending on the mood you catch her in, she's either indulgent and fond, or kind of flighty and a bit of a mad jackal.
Kind of the luck of the draw.
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 5:24 pm
[RESCUER POV]
Jordan woke, cold and dizzy, a strange itching under his skin. When had he fallen asleep? What was happening? This was wrong. This was all wrong, Ferros agreed, and there was someone else in their head with them, an invasive and watchful presence. They struggled weakly against it.
"They did not tell you," the voice said. It hurt. It filled their head to overflowing and left no room for them. It pressed against their skull from the inside, intolerable. "I know their secret weapon. I will find it. Even if you do not know, it is a matter of eventuality. My knowledge increases. This is my awakening." The words overwhelmed them, sharp and unbearable, and the world went away again.
When they next became aware, they could hear a thumping, repetitive and monotonous, and something sharp dug into Jordan's leg. He struggled to focus, his vision swimming in and out, and finally saw that the pressure and sharp pain attached to his leg was a tangle of vines, its thorns cutting into him. Everywhere there were vines, nauseating pulsing green, so vivid and wrong that he couldn't look at them. They were a network, a tangled mass of neurons, and with the little part of him that could still think he thought knowledge, of course, it's a mind, a brain.
The presence in his head intensified, the one that wasn't supposed to be there, an infinite heavy weight pressing him and Ferros into nothingness. It was a hum of images and ideas, the same words repeated without words, and as the thorns dragged them toward the center the weight of comprehension showed them that they were tiny drops in the sea, meant to be part of the network, their individuality unimportant. They would be absorbed.
They fought it, even as the immense pressure of presence and information crushed them slowly, smothering all sense of selfness. They had names, and their memories were theirs. Weren't they?
The vines, the greenness, the presence extinguished them, and they sank gently into the viscous sea of mingled memory and thought, forgetting the names that they had fought to protect.
OOC
Rescuer Name: Jordan Miller Faction: Hunter Suspecies/Division: Sun General appearance: Lean and tall, with blue eyes and reddish-blond hair worn in a ponytail. There are claw scars across the left side of his jaw and neck. He is wearing a Sun division coat. HP: 60/60
Victim Character's name: Micah Lambert Character's faction: Apartments Character's journal link:Journal Character's survival stats: Micah BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Squarish, short, and irritable. He has short, sandy brown hair in a slightly spiky style, brown eyes, and glasses with a coppery wire frame. Wears practical, tough clothes, jeans or work pants with steel-toed or hiking boots, and a flannel or jacket over a t-shirt. He has a small gold wire earring in his left ear and a star tattooed on the back of his right wrist.
Behind the white door was only loneliness, except that Giuseppe wasn't sure that he even understood the concept, when he could not even recall if he'd ever experienced anything but this never ending solitude. This cage was his home, and he had been placed here so long ago that it no longer bore memory, and so, he no longer remembered what it was like for things to be different. He had grown accustomed, grown comfortable, but had never quite grown complacent. No, there was still a part of him that yearned for some break in this mundane existence. A change, however small, would have been welcome.
And then, his hopes answered. A voice, and one who's familiarity he thought had been long buried. It was a woman's voice, warm yet stern, somehow comforting and heart wrenching all at once. That voice offered him freedom, and he accepted, because he thought that this was what he had wanted. Contact, an end to the solidarity, somebody to love him, to care for him, to guide him away from his cage, saving him from encroaching madness.
Of course it could be nobody else but his mother.
He followed her with that implicit sense of trust that most children held for their parent. He followed her out into the world, and he found that it was beautiful. There were colors and sounds, there was the feel of the wind against his face, the smell of autumn rain in the air, the taste of pumpkin spice lattes, the feelings one got when they interacted with other people. Laughter, joy, love. Freedom, freedom, freedom.
But anytime he held a conversation with someone, he would turn around later to find them dead on the ground. Anytime he stopped to gaze at the flowers that grew from the earth in their wondrous myriad of spectrum, he would soon see them crushed. Anything that gave him happiness was destroyed, and behind it was her, always her, smiling at him, offering him what she professed only she could give.
Every object he cherished was broken. Every person he ever felt anything for was murdered. She wanted him all for herself, and there was no stopping her.
Eventually he ran, and he hid. He understood then why the cage had been necessary, and longed for that solitude once more, for a place to wallow in the grief she offered him.
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 5:29 pm
[DREAM SCENARIO: VIOLET DOOR ]
It had not been a job of choosing and yet Cecil couldn't see himself doing anything else. He looked over the people as much as he could giving what he had and more. He thrived on the ability to help those in need, to ease their suffering and show them the way in the darkness. It was the path he had been set on and left to determine what was right and what was wrong. The only problem was he didn't always understand. There wasn't always a clear cut black and white drawing. The world was painted in grays and there was no visible line in the sand.
Eventually those he had helped came to hate him. To them he was helping all the wrong people, showing kindness to those who didn't deserve it. He let himself be taken in and he held fast to his path even if no one else understood why. Helping one person wasn't enough. Fixing one small problem wouldn't do the trick so he would do it all. He would help them all.
He gave what he could to the world in trying to be a guarding but a hard lesson to learn was that you can't please everyone and sometimes you can't please anyone. Everything ended before he could truly grasp it. What had he done wrong?
Inu-Mitsu
Werewolf
Offline
itspao_
Witty Punching Bag
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Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 5:30 pm
[ RESCUER POV ]
"What the…?"
Cold was the first thing he noticed. It was way too cold to be indoors, and sleepily he tugged his jacket a bit closer to fend off the cold. Rhys tried to sit up, more confused if anything. He wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep. Last thing he remembered was having a chat with Milo while they wandered through the hospital so it wasn't likely that he'd just decided to lie down and sleep. Maybe something happened that caused him to pass out? That seemed more likely than voluntarily stopping in a creepy hospital for a nap.
Slowly but surely as he stirred further into consciousness there was something…nagging at him. The kind he couldn't explain away because it was only Zephira. The kind that he wasn't so familiar with that he could easily just blame it on something. His pulse quickened and he felt his temper start to flare; the buzzing didn't help at all. It might have been what was causing it but he couldn't say for sure. For a moment he shut his eyes tight, hoping it would be enough to clear his head of whatever it was that was irritating him. He clenched his jaw, struggled against it until…
"They did not tell you."
He sat up, jolted by the sudden intrusion in his mind. It wasn't Zephira…her voice was nagging but brought a source of comfort to him in times like these. No, he didn't know who it was but as the seconds passed it felt like his head was splitting in two, enough to bring him to the brink of his consciousness again, but no. He held on, but only just so.
"I know their secret weapon. I will find it. Even if you do not know, it is a matter of eventuality. My knowledge increases."
The pain is too great at this point and Rhys put his head in his hands, crying out in agony as the voice continued to echo inside his head.
"This is my awakening."
And then everything went black again.
He didn't know how long out but he knew he blacked out again. It was a sound that woke him up this time, a loud thumping that stirred him from his sleep. When he finally managed to blearily open his eyes he felt something piercing his legs. The warmth of his own blood trickled down and he looked, watched as the vines started to wrap around him. His reaction was too late and soon it was dragging him off to who knows where.
"What the…?!"
He tried to summon Zephira, to get these vines off of him but nothing happened. She was asleep…or at least out of his reach. She'd been too silent. He should have known something was off.
Still he struggled against it, sat up and tried to pull the vines off with his bare hands. The pain from the thorns that pricked him didn't register. Nothing but survival filled his thoughts right then, until he looked around and saw. Vines. Everywhere. Pulsating.
He gagged and fell back, eyes shut. The nausea was familiar, similar to what he felt when he got too close to that horse-like creature, but a thousand times worse. He couldn't look. He'd already seen too much…
As he lay there the buzzing came back, only louder this time. Those words from before he blacked out began to resonate in his mind. He groaned quietly as slowly the words became less and he just knew. Understood, as if it should have come naturally in the first place. He couldn't see where he was being taken but something told him it was central, the source, the reason why he was there to begin with.
He was one part of a single whole. He was not alone, had never been alone. He was part of something bigger, and soon he would truly become a part of that singularity. Everything he'd ever known, every memory, both painful and sources of happiness, was given to him for this very purpose. His body was just a shell…and soon he would be gone.
He was fading fast.
But a part of him held fast to those memories. Every happy memory, every painful memory, everything that made him who he is and everything that was happening that was molding him to becoming the person he was meant to be. They were his, and no one else's. They were his and couldn't, shouldn't be taken from him. A part of him fought, but with each passing moment he was slowly forgetting why he fought.
Who was he? What was he doing? What brought him here? Why?
He was close…almost completely gone. Nothing inside him was fighting anymore. Nothing inside told him that there was anything to fight for at all. This was meant to be. This was expected. He should have known…maybe deep down he really knew. He understood.
BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Lean and fit, 6'2" and 162lbs. He sports light tan skin that tans too easily (and occasionally burns if he doesn't use sunblock) and well-defined facial features. His hair is a dark, dirty-blonde and haphazardly styled, and he has dark, sea green eyes. He also has facial hair (a beard/goatee combination), but mostly because he doesn't really like to shave.
BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Petit, 5'5" and 114lbs. She is rather fair skinned with relatively soft facial features (compared to her parents) and curiously blue-green eyes. Her hair is a light shade of caramel brown and is naturally wavy, an asset she's rather proud of. [ ref ]
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