There was a new door now, just one, and Shaun didn't want to go through it. It made him sick to look at, as if it crawled with some ugly, unseen force. He didn't want to reach for it, but he did. He didn't want to touch it – his skin shrinked from it, but he did.
As the cool doorknob touched the soft skin of his palm, he felt the hallway behind him, with all its strands and thoughts and feelings, collapse into him, tangling and weaving around him. He was assaulted by it all, an onslaught of a life lived. It hurt to know it all, to see it all play out. It felt like the fog, and he knew that was what it was – the fog, the infection, consuming and overwhelming him with his own feelings.
What are you capable of, Shaun
He still didn't know the answer. He still didn't. And he was going to die, not knowing it. He didn't even realize he had clenched the handle in his palm. He didn't realize he had opened the door. Not until, suddenly, it was open, and he was inside, and everything became...
~~~~
Him.
He was no longer him. He was many, empty, devoid of self, yet so much more. A name was irrelevant, he tossed it aside. He was a part of a whole, and it was good. He was one. He was many. He was the infection, the virus, the collective. He harvested, he fed, he gathered all knowledge to himself. Themselves. The collective would expand. The collective. Would. Grow.
This is what we are
But something was amiss.
This was not what I was. I was once something... someone... else.
Not the collective. No. The collective was all there was. It was all there would be. Soon all things would be one, with it. There was no escape. The memories that it absorbed fuelled its legacy of knowledge.
I am not Creation. I am not this. There is so much, so much that... that...
Cannot Be Contained. The memories are not complete.
With a spasm, Shaun – yes, that was his name! Shaun! Burst free from the whole, falling away. He thought, for a moment, that he woke, but he did not. That, he realized, was not possible. He wasn't himself anymore, he just held Shaun, was Shaun. It was too late to find the answer to the question of what he was capable of, he was sure...
But maybe he could just survive. That worked too, didn't it? He felt himself move, come together, become something physical. He was vines, lean and lanky and green and thorny, and he winced. Well, all right then. It wasn't his body, but it worked, he could see, and there were vines everywhere. They obeyed his needs as he staggered forth, stumbling because vines were just not graceful like this, just not muscle and sinew. It was a piece of him he needed a real body for, and he was saddened by this.
He needed to find that, just for the sake of finding it.
He looked around and found something. It wasn't him, but it was related to him in some way and Shaun knew he had to go to it.
It was only when he got closer that he realized it was a face – a face that Shaun knew from his dream. It lay prone, quiet, black and being devoured. Hey, this is the... Yes! This is the one that had rescued him! He'd been rescued by this person, thing, and they'd been here for him! Well, that was nice of them, and now...
Oof.
Now they were trapped too. That was his fault, wasn't it... oops! Well, Shaun wasn't going to let that go, was he? What sort of... whatever he was... would he be if he let this nice guy (?) get consumed. Not a nice one, that was for sure.
He brushed at the vines, sweeping them away – though, in truth, the vines seemed to let him do it, to wash away at his will. Shaun didn't want to think too much about it. Instead, he picked up the man (?) with his arms (?) and carried him away from the corridor and the chambers and the vines. He knew, instinctively, that he was not free, not really. He was just unraveled, like a ball of yarn, but that was fine – he could at least do this favor to this nice fellow, right?
He carried (he was strong, somehow) this person (?) down the stairs, down and down. He knew he was leaving things behind – thoughts, memories, pieces of his silken hallway, pieces of his story, unraveling like guts behind him. He was leaving them behind, and was that so bad? He'd not lived a particularly happy life, after all. Maybe this was a chance to start anew? Maybe he could do something else?
No. No, this was the end for him. He would eventually be drawn back into the vines. Oh well. He'd be ready, then.
In the meantime – he saw shadows outside, allies of his new buddy. He stretched as far as the tendrils of himself could go, handing the black-skinned man (who had elf ears, what?) to them before he had to draw back.
Shaun retreated into the tower, re-spooling what he could of himself. It wasn't all of it, that was a part of Creation now, and he would soon be, but with that favor out of the way, he didn't think it would be so bad... Maybe that was the answer after all – he could be anything. He was capable of being everything.
Not bad for a wall-running second-story gutterbrat.
HP: 50/50
Weapon: Fishing Rod 2d6-2
Quote:
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Character's name: Shaun Sawyer
Character's faction: Prison
Character's Rank: Officer
Character's journal link: Link
Character's survival stats: View
BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER
Pale white skin with freckles, pale blonde hair and blue eyes – Shaun looks like a young, handsome, somewhat washed out young man. His face was rounder in his childhood, and elongated with puberty, but he still looks like the imp that he is and was, and his body is lean but muscular and very flexible. He has a cute teddy bear (or is it a monkey?) backpack that he uses to carry stuff in. Its really cute.
Shaun is mischevious, easygoing, and very friendly but he's also a little reckless by nature, especially when showing off his acrobatics. He needs people and does not do well alone, so he makes a great teammate and will be as helpful as possible, but ultimately he is out for himself.
Vine Shaun is what you would expect – slender and vine-y with very little mass. Even as this, he is a show off, highly social, and more than a little dramatic...
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