Lennard had felt a strange sickness rising in him the second he'd approached the final door. His head pounded, and his heart clenched with an aching he hadn't known was possible. Everything was a mess. He was living in a dream, and life wasn't what it seemed. He was aware that he was dreaming, which lead him to wonder if he had died or not.
It was hard to say, he felt like he was at some kind of cross road. There was no sense in trying to wake up anymore because he simply couldn't. He'd accepted that fact the further along he'd traveled with each door and its choices.
Like glimpses into a ever changing television he watched as the events unfolded one by one. The month at Clearview after Day Zero came to him. He saw flashes of his friends, and the faces of his leaders. Next came the incident with the bandits. He remembered hitting his head and having to depend on those around him to survive. Then there had been the casino, how naïve he had been to the true intentions of the death trap, forced to endure a raving pack of mad cannibals. The fog had brought the infection with it he now understood. Lennard should have known his time was limited, how foolish he’d been in believing he could somehow change his fate.
It had only been a matter of when it would take hold.
He just wanted to sink back into the consuming feeling, and forget. The fact he would never see anyone who mattered again made him tired. He felt free then, something gave was as he sunk deeper. It was disturbing really, he didn't feel whole, and had no form. Where was his body? It made him uneasy, this was not what he wanted.
Memories of who he used to be swirled around him. The web he had weaved lay before him. The pages fluttered and scattered, images tumbling like stones he could not grasp. He had to find a sense of self. Frantically he reached out. Thousands of the vines came at his beckoning, coiling and wrapping around his body. They hungrily sought to give him shape, commanded by his will, and vast imagination.
He was legacy, a virus to be unleashed upon the world. A gift to man kind. He had become the very thing he had feared all those days in Clearview. Yet somehow they seemed forgein and alien as if they were a movie scene rather than his own life. Lennard was It, he was a part of the virus now.
That was why he realized.
His subconscious roared to life, anger filling him. No! This wasn't who he was meant to be.
Once he was able to see, he made out the fact he was in a long corridor. It was covered entirely in green. Stumbling forward, he shambled along holding the vines close to him so he could search. He was desperate to find some semblance of himself. Fate, however, seemed to have another design for him.
There was a face in the vines. For a brief moment in time, he held out hope it belonged to his own form. He was wrong. It was the One he had seen only in dreams. He had also briefly fought with this One during the Nightmare. At first, he’d only appeared as a demonic shadowy cat figure that spoke angrily as he kicked at him. It had been mad he had to drag him along.
Yet this creature had still cared for him, despite ruining both their chances at escaping.
He watched it all through his dream, and now he could remember everything. He knew this one had come here to save him. He had carried him dutifully despite his protests and obvious distrust. This thing with its feline ears and humanoid appearance had protected his mortal vessel despite it's better judgment. Guilt clenched at his being. Lennard remembered being someone who helped others, so their burden would not be so great.
Now it was his turn at last to lessen the others suffering. Waving his hand, the vines began to recede from the smaller form of the sleeping male. Blood still seeped from his wounds as the thorns removed their hold. Gently, Lennard reached for the demon, careful of his own thorns as he lifted him into his arms with ease. It will be alright kid...I got you this time. His mind whispered to the other, the troubled expression on the younger creatures face lessened resting peacefully as could be expected.
A favor for a favor.
He had to get him away from the center before it was too late. His corporal vine entangled form moved shambling along until he came upon a set of stairs. Lennard did not break his stride; memories of running up and down the stairs at the Clearview apartments filled him. Down he went until he came at last to shadowy figures that felt like the one he held.
They were untainted and did not belong in Creation. He handed them Kamakura. With that, his debt was repaid in giving him to those shadows out in the fog. Upon giving away his charge, he was trusting him back to his people. They would keep him safe, just as the boy had done for him. Lennard had done him this finally acts of service. However. Lennard's body had begun to break down along the way. Bit by bit, pieces of himself began falling upon the stairs, forever lost. He hoped he could retrieve some of them when he retreated back inside.
Lennard knew he was Infected. He could not leave this place. The gamer felt numb as he traveled back towards the core. His steps were slower as he ascended the spiraling stair case one final time. He had used so much energy to free his savior.
He was content to stay until what he once was vanished entirely.
It was only a matter of time.
OOC
Character's name: Lennard Manchester
Character's faction: Apartments
Character's journal link: Journal
Character's survival stats: ..: biggrin ata::..
BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Lennard has thick, bright reddish auburn hair that is fluffy, and cut in a messy shaggy style. His eyes are a blue-green mixture. He stands roughly at 5'9", he is relatively fit and has developed shoulder muscles. He has a fairly well rounded athletic build.
