She stared passively at the body on the floor, completely lifeless, but so alike her. No, this was her, the original her, the true her. The replica understood completely what she was, what she was fashioned to be. If she felt she had a choice, perhaps she would have made a different one, to create her own memories, to experience things that she knew the original her had gone through. She felt them, knew those memories intimately. After all, she was designed to be Delphyne's perfect replica, and she was. Still, it would have been nice to have something of her own. She glanced down to her sword and flail as memories flooded back to her.
She had resigned herself to her fate already, and slowly turned away from her original's body to face the White Queen. The White Queen spoke, but she did not listen. She felt herself fading, but did not cry. This was what she was created to do, her one and only purpose - to save her original. A copy was just a copy, and she was at peace with that. The only thing she thought about as the White Queen consumed her was that it would have been nice to have memories of her own...
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 2:27 pm
[POST 1 - McCOWBOY DEATH SOLO]
It had all led up to this.
Every experience, every memory, every encounter was just another trick. His journeys in Wonderland began with his darkest fears as he ventured through his best and worst memories, his greatest hopes and desires, all feeding his memories to the machine so that he may be replaced.
As McCowboy looked at the replica of himself, he found it only fitting that his journey would end in such a parallel way that it began – one that began with an encounter with an alternate self. But this time the outcome wasn’t going to be so positive.
“Do it already,” McCowboy forfeited. He had died once this evening already and was brought back to life – he was brought back for a reason. He thought that he had a great destiny waiting for him at the end of his journey, and perhaps this was it. His destiny was the mercy of death at this moment, slain by his own replica.
This was all a dream, wasn’t it? He had to question. It had been so long – it all felt so real, a transfer of consciousness rather than merely a dream of fiction. Could this death be his escape from this dream? Or was his death the real death of himself?
He wasn’t ready to die in the real world. If he had gained anything from this experience, it was that a greater destiny was just at his fingertips and he just needed to get out of this world. Perhaps this is his chance. Or perhaps that was a false hope. Or perhaps it wasn’t even his destiny to experience. It was the replica’s destiny now. And he – McCowboy, Wyatt McCoy, was just as hopeless as he always was. His destiny was nothing more than a sacrifice.
There was one way to find out.
“I said do it,” he barked to his replica. His replica stared at him blankly, reluctant. “Goddamn it, just do it–”
Two rounds of the pistols ended his sentence as the cowboy slumped to the ground. As he died, his fate was a mystery; simultaneously he was freed, defeated, or fulfilled.
MY STATS
My character's username: McCowboy My character's level: 62 Character's HP: 0/40 Character's Job Class: Gryphon + Current party: N/A Current Guild: N/A Location: Small IC description of character: A tall and muscular lightly freckled human with a brown and gold duster coat, tight red pants, and a slanted feathered cowboy hat. Character journal:[ BATTLE ENTRY LOG ]
Every experience, every memory, every encounter had been replicated into the replica of McCowboy, the killer of his original self. But for what cause? All of these memories and experiences – his original self was desperate to find a meaning. Was it all nothing more than to be a sacrifice? Is that all he was to amount towards?
He looked down to the corpse of his original self just as it faded away. They may look alike, they may have the same experiences and memories – but they were not the same.
The replica did not have something the original had – his desires. Sure, he had the memories of them, but he lacked the emotional connection to them to see to it that they are fulfilled. A desire to achieve any destiny meant nothing to him, and without that meaning he lacked a purpose to fight for survival.
The replica surrendered to his fate, allowing himself to be a sacrifice, just as his predecessor had done – but lacking in all the meaning.
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 2:49 pm
[InvisibleDog - Original]
Mirrors had shattered everywhere, glass shards and weapons and deaths, but somehow the strings had pulled them all up into a semblance of living again, back up to face the White Queen.
You will stay. You will stay in this cage.
Thorns caged and tangled him, and in spite of Laz's furious barking, Noah could only accept the sorrow and defeat as the cage pressed him smaller and thinner. Dying. They were dying. An edge of panic fluttered in his mind, but he felt too heavy and lethargic in the waves of grief to fight the fading.
A kind of snapping sound broke through. The cage shattered, and Noah landed on his feet, disoriented and suddenly awake again, the panic swelling as he understood how close he'd come to just letting himself drift into death. Puppets came rushing through the strange door, the crowd multiplying as Noah shook himself and turned to look for Peyton. Before he could get to her, his hands were caught by a duplicate of himself, his own avatar facing him with a painfully serious look. "I know everything," it said.
"I don't," Noah started.
"All your memories. Everything you gained in this dream. I'm your container."
Did he really look like that when he was trying to be serious? Noah wasn't sure how he felt about that. Laz made a small wet sound of amusement, and Noah shushed him. "What do you need?" he asked the copy of himself. "What, what do you want?" Uncertainty. The puppet must have sought him out for a reason.
"You don't have to do anything else, it's gonna be okay," his double reassured him, letting go of his hands. The axe materialized. Noah blinked, and found that the axe was embedded in his own chest. It didn't hurt. He looked back up at the replica. Why?
"Thank you," the other said. "Sorry. That didn't hurt, did it? It's gonna be okay," it repeated, and as everything grew dark, "goodbye ... "
"It's gonna be okay," and the person he was created to protect is fading away, still with that confused, betrayed look on his face, and Noah (the puppet, the replica, it's not really his name but it's the only name he has) wishes he knew how to explain better, "goodbye."
He's gone now, back to the world where he belongs. The world the replica remembers, even though he's never been there. We are the sacrifice, says a voice in his memory. It's his only real memory, he knows. The only one that belongs just to him and not to the Noah who he has just sent back. "It's gonna be okay," he repeats softly, even as memories that are and aren't his flow through him. A childhood that nobody can say wasn't good, even if he never found anyone to be close to. Days spent exploring and imagining in the woods, learning about animals and plants, learning to take care of himself and of his responsibilities, the ones he'd taken on and the ones he'd assigned himself. The pleasure of learning and understanding. The shock and terror of learning that there were things that existed only to hurt, and the withdrawal and fear that came afterward.
The discovery that the world was bigger than that, after all. The making of new, real friends, of amazing, confusing feelings. The presence of someone else with him who never went away, even if he was creepy and strange; the slow and astonishing realization that being a Hunter meant that he would never be truly alone again. Learning to fight. Learning to touch.
Lazarus has gone back to the real world with the real Noah, but this Noah still has Peyton, who is a copy also but is just as real as he is, who has all the same memories they shared, and that's enough. He holds her close as the cage of thorns rebuilds itself, their fingers intertwined, her cheek against the fur of his coat, and Grief draws out all the memories that Noah has had so briefly, and he mourns their passing even as he understands that this is all he was made for.
He is dying. He is not dying alone. That's enough.
Beejoux
Corgisaur generated a random number between
1 and 22 ...
15!
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 3:01 pm
They destroyed it. Those awful things in Halloween. They raided us in the middle of the night with their FEAR and took everything that we were working on. They didn't want to be found out. They wanted to be secret.
They wanted to be left as the things that go bump in the night.
So they destroyed it.
OOC
My character's username: harlemshake My character's level: 27 Character's HP: 30/30 Character's Job Class: Cheshire Current party: ALL BY MYSELFFFFF Current Guild: None Currently Location: The Final Battle Small IC description of character: 5'0" girl (or at least, she attempted to make her short), with darker skin. Curly hair, and white accessories.
Corgisaur generated a random number between
1 and 22 ...
19!
Corgisaur
Offline
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 3:03 pm
<Hey Riley?>
"What's up, Harley?"
<Are you afraid of everything that has to do with Halloween?>
"Uhhm. No? I mean.. I guess I hadn't thought about it."
<Well, what about me? Are you afraid of me?>
"No way. I couldn't ever be afraid of you."
<So if you saw me when I was alive with my friends, you would trust me and not be afraid of my friends? You would trust them too?>
She hesitated.
"I'd trust you." She said.
"Your friends too." She lied.
OOC
My character's username: harlemshake My character's level: 27 Character's HP: 30/30 Character's Job Class: Cheshire Current party: ALL BY MYSELFFFFF Current Guild: None Currently Location: The Final Battle Small IC description of character: 5'0" girl (or at least, she attempted to make her short), with darker skin. Curly hair, and white accessories.
Mea was unsure if it was the exhaustion, but she felt like she was quickly slipping away. She had managed to get off of the ground but even standing was taking its toll. Blurry vision looked around her as a pale whiteness had branched out between them like fissures in the ground, but surrounding all of them. Those she had met and others she never had the chance to, a small scream was silenced in her throat as she felt it moving over her like a soft wave of sleep. It's warm. Mea liked the warmth, she felt she could fall and curl up into its embrace. It could be nice...
"No, it isn't." A voice rang out and she felt her hand grabbed, pulled back into standing. Somehow she'd ended up back on the ground, neatly curled into her body. Now she had been forcibly moved her eyes focused slowly as her hand was released.
Pink eyes.
Mea fluttered her eyes and shook her head back and forth, looking forward into her own eyes. "B-but you're..."
In front of her, swaying to a song all her own was another her, exact in every way including the same, sweet smile she usually found on herself (when there was something to smile about). Mea was confused as she regarded another her. It hadn't been the first time but this one was different. This one was real down to the minute changes in her expression as bright eyes looked back at her, nodding.
"Don't worry okay? You can't nap now though." The other her said warmly, bouncing between her feet.
Mea blinked and her hand held tightly to her star staff as she leaned on it for support. For some unexplained reason she felt heavier, like something was trying to draw her back to the ground again... back into a wonderful sleep. With a squeak she shook her head again and opened her mouth to speak, though it felt like it was filled with ash and she was unable to create words.
"Please." The other her said again, her eyes turning gentle as her body stopped swaying. "Don't be afraid anymore, you don't have to be." Her voice was softer now, lacking the usual excitement but rather somber and knowing.
"Afraid?" Alamea questioned. It was true that there had been a fear deep inside of her since she had started this adventure, but it was something she had told no one. Something she hid behind with a smile and filled with anything she could put into her mouth. She felt the ears on her head fold down as she looked away from her other. "I don't want to be." The words felt like lead pouring out of her mouth.
The other her showed no sign of hatred or disgust, only a caring look as she reached out to her, gently lifting her chin with a hand and looking her in the eye. "You don't have to be. I know you already know your strength, even if it's not always there, you do know." The touch was gentle as the two locked eyes to each other. Mea could feel the hot swell of tears underneath her eyes starting to rush forward.
"What do I know? Can't you tell me?" Another shake of her head as the grasp of the other was broken.
"Shhh." A hand moved out again and placed a finger to her lips and caught another stare. It was affectionate and caring as she closed the gap between them. "Don't think any less of yourself, you know who you are, what you feel and what you are capable of... Please don't give up."
She was silent as the other moved back slowly.
"Please." The other her said again, raising the star staff in her hands. "Don't be afraid... you need to trust yourself... and me." A pause. "Please let me save you."
Mea didn't move but looked back to her other. That pleading... it was something real and she could feel it in her gut as she saw a soft smile back on the other face. She couldn't understand what she meant, but that smile... it was a smile she only gave to people she cared for... people like him.
She nodded.
Alamea didn't flinch or even move as the star staff struck her through the chest in one blow.
"Thank you."
kuumeii
Snarky Hunter
Offline
kuumeii
Snarky Hunter
Offline
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 3:10 pm
[REPLICA VERSION - n0mn0ms]
"Thank you." She had said to the nothingness. "Thank you for letting me save you." She repeated, putting away the weapon and closing her eyes. Why had she always assumed such weakness in herself would probably never be understood, but there was hope for her yet. Hope that she could find that in herself and continue on as she always had.
Laughter filled her head.
She's sitting at the table, talking to him. Her expression is genuinely happy as she kicks her feet under the table. In those eyes she can see a hopefulness, a warmth that fills her as she continues to giggle, reaching over to steal his food again though he doesn't seem to mind.
It was a soft memory, a happy memory. Is that what happiness was? It felt warm inside as a breeze moved over her, she could feel small pieces of her floating away.
There's a storm outside and she's staring into the rain. She doesn't move from the spot as the tears and water of the rain mix on her face, her hand holding onto the door frame for support. He's long gone now, that brotherly love stolen away into the night. She can't bring herself to move now, all she can do is stare at where he had been last. It's a forlorn futility, inside she knows he isn't going to come back, and yet she remains.
Darkness took her, she could feel a hollowness inside at the thought of it. What was that one? She couldn't place it and her eyes moved back to the queen, taking a few steps towards her as she could feel more of her vanishing. As she fell to her knees she could feel that her calves were gone and she sat, smile on her face.
She saw him in the halls with his hand hanging down and wanted to take it. That gently movement of his hair as he walked had her heart flutter but she hid back behind a corner. It was a mess, a confused mess and she didn't even know what it was. Instead she gave up again, wandering back to somewhere safe.
"You'll get it someday." She spoke gently, looking up at nothing in particular with the smile on her face. "You have a chance now and I know you can." She continued. What a wonderful few feelings she had now as it was becoming a blanket of darkness surrounding her. It didn't hurt as she anticipated it would which was gone, but there was some remorse in having so very little experience with emotions.
That remorse was fleeing as she closed her eyes, the warmth taking her as her body split into fragments. "Good luck, Alamea." A final, echoing voice said before she was gone.
Finally it was done.
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 3:16 pm
[ POST 1 - Uttam Death Solo ] He'd turned sheepish at Shun without quite realizing why. By far, he was older than the Reaper, probably by at least a few decades. Taller than him too, but a lot less intimidating. The boil certainly gave off an aura that demanded he be paid close mind, and that his words be heeded.
"Yeah, yeah. Calming down." He muttered, scratching the back of his neck. He turned around to find MaybeAllan and offer the man a proper apology, but was cut short by the White Queen's final move.
He struggled for a while, lashing out at the fragments that formed the cage, repeatedly striking out and yelling and swearing. He wasn't some insect that you put in a cage! The continued bashing and failure to make so much as a crack in her was tiring, and he ended up squatting, completely exhausted. There was nothing left to give, everything left to lose. Had they been fighting for naught? Everything was coming to an end, grief creeping through his brain and shutting down his synapses. Only grief, only loss and pain. None of it mattered in the end, and their heroics would go unsung.
The puppet him placed a hand on his shoulder, then hefted him up from the floor with a snarling smirk. "Get up." He chided, shaking his head. "Your actions haven't been for naught."
And then a sickle went right through the original Uttam's neck.
Carhop Cavalier
Familiar Teenager
Offline
Carhop Cavalier
Familiar Teenager
Offline
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 3:21 pm
[ REPLICA - SANDSHARK ]
The ease of the kill would have been very satisfactory, SANDSHARK thought to himself, as he watched the true him trickle and fade away into a nothingness around the sickle he carried, if it had not been him. The fact that he was safe now helped, but watching the face of oneself contort with the throes of death was not a pleasant thing.
There were a multitude of unpleasant things he'd bore witness to by proxy. Whippings, older men shouting at him, being beaten by weapons and being thoroughly trounced by a pink haired Hunter girl. There were pleasant things too, however. A nephew, a mother, battle, harvesting. The harvesting memory, though, was bitter at the end like tea steeped for too long. The replica wondered if something were going to change in Uttam, perhaps he'd begin to note the bitterness of the act.
With a smile that accepted finality, he shrugged and squatted on the ground with closed eyes. He tried to focus on the good memories that the real self had accrued. His guild mates, MaybeAllan, Salbei, and the endearing animal Alice that had been following him around. He focused on these 'til Grief took her place at the throne of his mind, silencing his existence.
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 3:33 pm
(( Sorry my net is doing weird s**t right now ;; ))
A needle plunged into his heart, claws sliced his body, and he was dead. Gone. It had been a nothingness, no more than a moment of shock before the blank empty void. And then the strings pulled him back up to his feet, reassembled him, brought him back to confused life to stand before the White Queen, brittle and slow, petrifying as he stood.
Fang wanted to wake up now. He closed his eyes and tried, and opened them on the same view, the thorns and the cage and the White Queen drawing him into a loving, possessive embrace. It reminded him of the vision he'd had, the vision of himself shackled and despairing, and just like the vision, he gave in and let the heavy dragging horror take him.
You will stay in this cage. Your existence, your memories, will contain my Grief.
He was dying. He hadn't even known he could die.
The door opened, and the cage fell away, and Fang stood wavering and confused. What was happening? He looked into his own smiling face as his puppet avatar took his hands. "I'm here," his double said. "I have your memories. I'll take your place. Go on, it's fine."
Claws sank into his stomach, and, for the second time, he died.
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 3:45 pm
[Dark★Fang - replica]
He is Fang, the same and not the same as Chaya, and he watches the original fade away with a sense of peaceful satisfaction. He has his (her) memories. He is here to perform the sacrifice. This is what he was made for.
The other has been sad, so sad and lonely, uncomfortable and unhappy in herself. Fang watches the memories spin past and out of himself, a spectator rather than a participant, and thinks quietly how glad he is to have been "born" here in the dream, to never have lived in any other body than the one he owns so briefly here and now. She isn't miserable. But she isn't happy either.
He turns to face the White Queen as the cage closes over him, and as his limbs grow heavy and his heart grows dim, he smiles fearlessly at Grief. He has a purpose. This is his purpose, and he is satisfied.
"Nakama." He repeated with a nod and a grin, confirming the word that Chel was looking for. But that's as far as he got. All when he had been beginning to cheer up too.
He wanted to let another apology slip and then go on in an excited babble of the few others he had run across. How he had run across Blue and kind of sort of got married to him; this could have been shared together with a laugh and a running joke when they got out of the game. And how he had run into Caesar, whom he couldn't identify as well but knew he knew. And the few others that just seemed like Hunters. He would have told her about the cute little girl that was so enthralled with Power Rangers when he explained them to her, making her an honorary Blue. But he didn't. He couldn't really. The moment he opened his mouth, the something that seemed like it was going to happen, happened.
The landscape began to change, the last of the mirrors cracked and broke all around them and one last one shattered around him, gaining him a punch in the face and a slew of images. He would have been more than happy to catch the girl into his arms and smile broadly to her - even though that had kind of hurt - and thank her for the smidgin of insight into her mind and dreams, expanding the little he knew of her from a strange dream at New Years and a chat in the mess.
But he never got a chance for that either as the White Queen faded into the ground and speaking of their end. Now his fingers were holding onto bars of a cage, his thoughts filled with troubles and foreboding and his eyes were staring at an open door that only remained empty for so long before figures started to march out. Familiar ones, the ones he had seen briefly in that one room, finally come to life. And now he was standing face to face with his own. Cheeky grin and all.
"I know everything," the copy told him, blunt and to the point. And he could believe it, it was easier than to deny it probably. Not at this point. Better to just go with the flow as always even though, well... he could kind of see where this was going. There wasn't much of a point to asking questions. He'd seen Chel fall so close to him and countless others by now. A container. The end.
"Can we at least do the Sentai hand off?" Milo asked with a small laugh as he pressed his hands to his hips.
This other, perhaps the actual Green now, simply shrugged. At first seeming placid at the notion but Milo could see a bit of amusement behind the, "sure, why not?"
The two versions approached one another, confident to a point yet with their own different feelings on the matter. One having to except their death and the other having to accept the act and sacrifice. Yet, there it was, the passing of the torch high five. Crisp and with no holding back.
"Thank you," the copy stated, shifting his hand to grip Milo's to pull him closer. It was for a cleaner shot, a finishing blow to the gut with the apparent power of a thousand suns or something. It hurt as much, made everything hazy and the blackness creep over as he felt his body hit the ground. "And goodbye." Was the last thing he heard before he was gone.
chimarii
'cause we didn't get to really end their talk ouob
Reply
