So fast, everything was now happening so fast - and he was drowning in it, in Grief, in the White Queen's silken embrace, drawing him (and everyone around him) down with her. She would keep him, she would keep Fang and that leafy fellow - TheBoughman - and everyone else! He wanted to scream, to cry out in anger and to prove that he could, that he would not be taken so easily.
But Mouth couldn't speak, no matter how hard he might try.
Until that door opened and the multitude came forth, easing the feelings of drowning and grief.
And he came face-to-face with his mirror.
....And it wasn't Nahm.
RavenousDelirium head-tilted at the other him and reached out to touch that face, so familiar with every angle and concave plane. The second Mouth smiled and allowed him to touch, but soon took his hands in his own and squeezed them reassuringly.
"Don't worry, I will stay so you may go. Back to the waking world, to the Clan...to Nahm. This is what I was made for, to stay when you go." Mouth frowned as the other him spoke further, explaining that he was a container for his memories, that he knew everything Mouth himself knew. He could not but frown further as he realized what would become of this other him, but understood that it had to happen - he lifted his doppleganger's hands to his mouth and kissed each one, dead center in the palm.
"One from me and one from Nahm...thank you."
"I will not forget you, even when you are with Grief. I will remember you, celebrate you as a glorious warrior...as is fitting." Mouth smiled at his mirror, who smiled back, and then stepped back to allow what needed to happen, to happen. He saw several of the duplicates slashing at their originals and knew this must happen - for him to wake he had to die in the dream first.
And that was okay.
Mouth-from-the-mirror cocked his head slightly and then smiled; he brought his blade to bear swiftly, cleanly and with as much mercy as he could give. As RavenousDelirium - the original - felt his flesh parting under the sharp blade, heard one last thing before he disappeared:
"Thank you, Mouth....good bye."
My STATS
My character's username: RavenousDelirium My character's level: 33 Character's HP: 20 /40 Current party: -- Current Guild: -- Location: Finale, baby~! Small IC description of character:
Tall, lightly muscled with glowing red eyes and dark grey, mottled skin, RavenousDelirium wears the black and white with gold-trim Royal Gryphon-class set though there are many patches and additional "accents" added to the basic set. His dark hair is long and thick, slightly waved from being pinned out of his face and his overly-wide mouth is rarely given to any emotion beyond scorn or smirk.
Sadness clouded his features as he watched the replica of himself seem to appear, shoulders slumping only slightly before he caught himself and attempted to hide his emotions. Hadn't this happened once before? Hadn't they already done this dance? He remembered memories of another him elsewhere, and the memory had always nagged him, for some strange reason.
"You." The hatter stated, tilting his head. There was no hate in his eyes, just slight confusion as well as curiosity. "You look just like me."
"Aye," Marosa answered, not daring to close his eyes or even turn his head away; there was no telling what the other would do in these circumstances, and he wasn't going to let his guard down for even a moment.
"Was it fun?" This question took the fey by surprise, and he literally took a step back as if it would help him regain a hold on the confusion that threatened to overtake him.
"Was... what fun?" The faerie was baffled by this question as he answered, wondering what in Jack's name was the point of this particular series of questions. If there even was a point...
"Whatever you do. Is it fun?" The past tense and present tense threw Marosa completely off guard, and he was unsure as to how to answer the question. Perhaps... it was true, then, that all hatters went crazy.
He had no more moments to answer questions, as he felt like he was dying. Pain enveloped him as he glanced down, seeing cards sticking out from his torso, blood slowly leaking out. Cascading. Pouring like a river. Or was that just him, losing his mind? Maybe it was contagious.
"Sorry, lad. There can be only one of us. And that one... had tae be me." Marosa closed his eyes for a final time, his breath escaping him as he fell into darkness.
Staring at his original's dead form, Feytouched found himself saddened by the loss. Was it necessary, however?
Yes. It was absolutely necessary.
He had all of his memories. Memories of his father, memories of Muirin, Sharra, Yaya...
Feytouched had all of these memories and more. He loved silly trinkets, he loved to swim in the lake, he loved a lot of things... but gancanagh weren't made to love. Not truly, anyway.
The memories consumed him, and for the first time in his life... he felt a tear slide down his cheek. He loved. He knew he wasn't like his father. He couldn't use people and leave them to die with a broken heart. He couldn't. He was Marosa. He was a gancanagh. But he wasn't like other gancanagh.
It was unfortunate that his father was the only other gancanagh he knew about.
He knew that Marosa would be safe. After all, he'd take his place. He had all of his memories... and more. Enough to cage the white queen. Enough to do what he needed to do.
But yet... it wasn't enough. Already he could feel those memories slipping away.
A pang of regret filled him. He wished, just a bit, that it was him that had been killed, instead of Marosa. Feytouched resented the other, for the other knew what it was like to die. He did not.
He envied the fey, for living... and dying.
The last memories were torn away, leaving him with a fading image of playing in the water, looking at trinkets under the waves that shimmered and shone as the light played on them, and then that, too, was taken away.
One by one the mirrors shattered. He found himself up on his feet, unable to resist or move. Was this the end of the game? The end of the long dream, no nightmare he had been pulled into.
"This is the end of your legacy." As she spoke, her voice rang a little too long, a little too strong. He was vanishing, slowly and not like his class this time. He was unable to resist the fading. "This is the rebirth of Grief. I will take your essence, your memories and make them mine. You will stay. I will stay."
"You will stay," she repeats herself, and now her presence is overwhelming. Tendrils pulled him closer, and he had no resistance left. His lie had not been enough, the fighting was not enough. Soon he couldn’t even thing, he could only feel defeated. "You will stay in this cage. Your existence, your memories, will contain my Grief."
Something snapped. He woke as if from a start and saw the door, that door. It had begun. They were awake. The game after the game. Alice he realized. She, no they had done something. Out marched the puppets, hundreds of them. He looked at them, realizing they were students he knew, Molan Olivia, AJ and many more. And even himself.
He could only stare as he walked up to himself, stare at the prefect and complete version… no almost glorified version. There was no way that was him. But it was, it was so close to the same face he saw in the mirror.
“I know everything. And you were correct.” There was a long pause, long enough that Andrew could almost feel the pain, he knew what was coming next. “I am the copy.” He said.
Andrew could only feel pity. He knew this feeling, wondering if you were the copy or not… he did not like it. Not one bit. He still wondered but stared at the copy, perfect, his real form with fire that burned high and he could almost feel the heat. Andrew wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t the copy.
“I know everything. And I do mean everything.” His copy glanced briefly at Olivia. There were no words need to know his meaning. Andrew shook his head but the copy stared into him silently giving him a look that felt familiar, like one Molan had given him. Except this one said very clearly take care of her.
Suddenly he realized something, this copy intended to stay.
“Then I was right…”
“I will complete the seal. You go… take care of her.”
He frowned. Take care of her, his copy said, as if he even could. He had his doubts. Didn’t his copy know everything? His wings drooped. Andrew was exhausted. This was too much for him. He didn’t want to be confronted with this. Not right now, not ever. Especially not from himself, even if it was not himself. He was good enough at fighting himself as it was.
“Give me your grief. I will defeat her for you. For us. You have to be the one to do other things.” Andrew couldn’t really believe it. He could not just give up his grief like that. But his other copy seemed so sure.
“I will be your replacement. Now go!”
The blade lunged out and caught him off guard. Not that he was really in any condition to run. He looked at his copy and saw it then, the seething jealousy, the hot bitter anger. He knew his copy didn’t want to stay. Was he trying to kill his original and take his place? If he was, he wouldn’t blame him.
Perhaps his copy was even better than himself. Braver certainly.
He… was not alone, the copies were killing the originals, replacing them. He realized. Maybe it was the only way to replace them. Maybe they were truly having vengeance. But “take care of her.” that sounded like perhaps maybe the copy had a plan was sending him away, maybe it was only his copy.
At first this world had been fun and if Molan had never told him anything, if he had never seen his copy to begin with perhaps he would have been ok. But the end game felt like something so much more, like he was part of something much bigger. He did not like it here but he still did not want to die. Even if everything hurt, he wanted to remain, to keep going, and to get home on his own.
Even as he collapsed, into a heap the fake body the fake fire fading, he did not want to go. His hand came up to his chest, a strange feeling filled him, briefly, happiness, a dream, of finding treasure, of bringing it home and giving a piece to someone else. Wide eyes and a smiling face as she accepted the treasure. And in that moment he forgot his grief, even if just briefly.
My character's username: Haunting Lights My character's level:41 Character's HP: 40 Current party: Current Guild: Secrets Service- The Game Enders (SS:GE) Location: Dead Small IC description of character: A cheshire cat that might be a little on fire.
Awake, he was suddenly awake, alive animated, able to see for the first time, able to move for the first time. Memories ran through him, he knew what he had to do. He started moving following the others, going to see his other self, his true self, the one he must protect. He wanted to have words with him. To assure him, and to see her, this one his other self loved so much. If he was going to be a sacrifice, he wanted to do that small amount before going.
He found him in the crowd of puppets, not realizing how easily he had done so, he just knew, found the other half of himself.
“I know everything. And you were correct.” He paused, stealing himself for what he was going to say next. “I am the copy.”
“I know everything. And I do mean everything.” He looked at Olivia for a long moment. She was scared, he remembered that, and her copy looked some much like his memories. It was one thing to remember, and another to see her for himself. His original self was so unsure. He almost wondered if he could handle the task that his original had set for himself. It was a long difficult road, but he had gone far in this world. He would go further in the other one.
“Then I was right…” His flame burned a little brighter. Yes his original self understood these things. He was smart he would find a way.
“I will complete the seal. You go… take care of her.”
He knew he loved her. That was why he had to make his original go, to save her the pain of losing him. He wasn’t truly alone he knew that he would be here to be with her copy. Here to forever become the seal binding Greif. Maybe if he bound her, his original wouldn’t feel it so badly. Wouldn’t be pledged by the grief he couldn’t seem to escape.
“Give me your grief. I will defeat her for you for us. You have to be the one to do other things.”
For he couldn’t, there was no except for him, not from this world. But a part of him, no his true form would live on. Just as his copies in the game had protected him, he would be another copy protecting his true self.
He was scared, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to vanish into oblivion but if he didn’t do this. They would both parish and then there would be nothing of either of them.
“I will be your replacement. Now go!” he took that blade out, the one of feathers and treasure chests and shoved it deep into the original’s core.
A dream of treasure, a dream of a good life.
A dream of family and companionship. Of fire and lava.
And he cut down his original watching as he fell. Jealous. He was jealous. Terribly jealous. Horribly jealous. But he also knew, that he, his original would never forget him.
He hadn’t forgotten his silver kingdom self after all.
And not Olivia, never her.
This was his sol purpose. He remembered, a voice, talking to him from before he was even aware. "In dreams, new memories are created," the voice speaks, unfamiliar. You cannot see. You do not understand sight. "You are these new memories, the container for the old. You were created just like me. Perfect containers, one day to be used and then discarded. It is okay to be a toy, we are all toys here. We all exist, just pieces of us, just barely enough. We are the sacrifice."
He was the sacrifice. He was just a piece of the greater whole, and he would give up his everything just so he could survive. He would cut off his own foot, and he was just the foot in this case. Just the foot just the piece to be discarded while his true form survived, lived on and perhaps even fulfilled the dreams he had. The dreams of one day having something more, of being independent, of loving Olivia truly and full heartedly, of sharing his fire with her, (even if she would never be on fire). He would fulfil their dreams the ones from beyond this world.
Well Jack damn it, he would come back to haunt him if he didn’t.
He turned and walked to the queen, unsure of how to prepare himself.
Panic set in as he realized he was growing smaller that he was fading, dying disappearing. Taking the place of his original.
Perhaps it was a small mercy to not have felt those things himself to truly know those emotions and feelings, no, he would pull them with him. Bring all the emotion all the grief he could with him and give it back to her, all the pain the emotion.
If his original didn’t fulfill those dreams he would return. He might die now, but he would find a way. “Go.”
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:22 pm
Post 1 - Alaska
She is one of the few still standing when the remaining mirrors break apart to reveal the White Queen’s true visage. There are no futures to observe, no more possibilities because everything ends here. With a blank face, she looks down at one of the puppets strewn across the ground. A shoe lightly kicks an arm, her eyes conveniently ignoring the blank look in their eyes just before they flicker back to life and rise up to join the never ending game once more.
The game cannot end. The queen is fading piece by piece, but there is a determined gleam in her eyes. Tendrils pull each player toward her before surrounding them and extending upwards to form a cage. Her lips part. Oh.
Legacy? She never had much of a legacy to begin with. She was only one human life amongst seven trillion. A single, insignificant life that was expendable, such was the life of a weak hunter like herself. For a brief millisecond she considers accepting her fate. Everyone dies one day, and it seems her time has arrived at last, but as she stares at her hands, the cage, the disintegrating queen, she changes her mind.
“No, I won’t. I refuse.” Hands curl into fists as she tries to turn around and reach for a non-existent exit. The end is here, but like hell she was going to let the White Queen trample all over her will as if she was simple trash. Her heart beats faster as she tries to move. Never. Never. I refuse. I won’t—
Something snaps, and it’s only when she manages to free herself and gain distance between the queen and herself that she notices the cage is gone. When she looks at the legacy, she finds the door she was hoping, wishing for. It swings open.
She cannot understand when an army of puppets march through. Her jaw clenches up when familiar faces enter her vision, but the tension leaves her muscles as she realizes there are two of the same person inside the cage. Are they a cop—
A hand grips her should from behind before roughly spinning her around. “I know everything,” her replica says, brows furrowed and teeth gritted. “I am your container.” She realizes it now. This is her replacement. She wants to feel sympathy. If she is everything that makes her ‘Alaska Burns’ then she too would choose life over death, but here she is, a ready sacrifice. And rather than feel a twinge of sadness, there is only twisted relief. She will live to see another day.
“Thank you.” The replica hides her resentment well as she brandishes her spiked mace. The original takes a reflexive step backward, but the container has already spoken her goodbyes. The weapon plunges neatly into her heart, but there is no pain. She won’t die, this is only a game after all.
She throws the replica a look of pitiful. Humans are cruel.
Syusaki
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Syusaki
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2014 8:22 pm
Post 2 - SunnySideDown
Killing the original only gives her a small fraction of satisfaction because she knows in the end, the original will live and she will die. If the original is a single life amongst seven trillion, she is a single sigh in a single day—brief and invisible, fleeting and unimportant to the grander scheme of things.
Everything is marked for death, but from the start of her creation she was destined to live a fleeting life. There is still so much she has yet to experience for herself. All she has are memories that are not truly hers to begin with. She can remember the feel of a charcoal pencil in her hands and gliding across rough paper. She can remember the cold chill of the night as she snuck out of her house for the final time. The breath of clear air as she steps out of her pod and into an entirely new world, culture, destiny.
They are not hers. They will never be hers, but she desperately wants something to call her own.
“Life is cruel,” she murmurs as she steps toward the queen with anger flaring in her bright green eyes. Hands rest loosely by her side and the heels of her spats echo across the floor. If she could run away now she would, but it’s too late. It’s always too late. Her original is already dead, escaped this hell hole of a game. All that is left is to let herself die.
Can she die if she has never lived a life in the first place?
Tall, lightly muscled with glowing red eyes and dark grey, mottled skin, RavenousDelirium wears the black and white with gold-trim Royal Gryphon-class set though there are many patches and additional "accents" added to the basic set. His dark hair is long and thick, slightly waved from being pinned out of his face and his overly-wide mouth is rarely given to any emotion beyond scorn or smirk. 
