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sheep_game2023-06-07 10:16 am
crittersheep) wrote in sheep_game2023-06-07 10:16 am
🌑︎ 🌑︎
WHO: all
WHERE: all
WHEN: Day 9, evening into night
[the sun goes down; the two moons rise.
it all looks...quite different. the laundromat lengthens and transforms the silhouette of Woolietown in the distance. the lighthouse beacon comes to life for the first time, throwing strong, brilliant light and stark shadows across the meadow and into the barns. the lazy river encircles the pasture in a glittering band, the bobbing shapes of the pool toys a little bit eerie until they drift into full view.
perhaps some of you are winding down. perhaps some of you are just gearing up for a wild adventure in the shadows. perhaps some of you, regardless of if you sleep or stay up, find your dreams and nightmares crawling out beyond the bounds of your own head tonight, drawing others in...
the night is full of possibilities.]
WHERE: all
WHEN: Day 9, evening into night
[the sun goes down; the two moons rise.
it all looks...quite different. the laundromat lengthens and transforms the silhouette of Woolietown in the distance. the lighthouse beacon comes to life for the first time, throwing strong, brilliant light and stark shadows across the meadow and into the barns. the lazy river encircles the pasture in a glittering band, the bobbing shapes of the pool toys a little bit eerie until they drift into full view.
perhaps some of you are winding down. perhaps some of you are just gearing up for a wild adventure in the shadows. perhaps some of you, regardless of if you sleep or stay up, find your dreams and nightmares crawling out beyond the bounds of your own head tonight, drawing others in...
the night is full of possibilities.]
cw self harm
in spite of his fading strength, his eyes are alight with triumph. for once in his life, he can hurt Traumerei. bring his old master down with him.
so he will.
once again, he paints an image within his mind. this time, it's a lighthouse. not his, but the pasture's. it's easy to imagine; he'd studied the alien building meticulously since its arrival. Charon may have lost his vision, but to his feline eyes, its beams shine so brightly in the dark that they're almost blinding.
at the same time, he begins a new chant. ]
WHO WOULD YOU MOURN?
... One who lived and died solely at the whims of another, unable to see past the misguided loyalty ingrained in their blood.
[ the words come out raspy, jagged; every breath feels like another stab to the chest. he tastes blood. and yet, the words are layered with a steel conviction; one that was absent the first time. this was his truth. a truth he'd watched Charon suffer for.
it's Traumerei's turn.
Cry for me, master. I want to see it. ]
Re: cw self harm
if the lighthouse appears, it's not in the hallway itself. if Traumerei has started to weep, he can't hear it yet. the hallway has fallen shockingly silent in the wake of his words but for his rasping breaths.
however. the squares of grey light around all of the closed curtains have suddenly grown much, much brighter...]
Re: cw self harm
not much he can do except wait.
don't you dare take this away from him, Charon of Lily. ]
Re: cw self harm
shatter.
the curtains blast out, torn from their rods, to be thrown against the opposite wall of the hall. light pours in like a weapon, like a wave.
yes, he does see Lo Po Bia Traumerei, speared through the chest, involuntary tears streaming down his face and off his mask. yes, he does see other figures crowded in the dark around Traumerei, red-haired and otherwise, cowering from the light.
blink. they are Charon's relatives, ruined and broken and dead.
blink. they are whatever family and allies Blood Fiend has loved and lost in his thousands of years of life, in much the same shape.
blink. blink. back and forth. back and forth.
the monster is dead...for now.
he is feeling very faint.]
Re: cw self harm
Blood Fiend is no stranger to corpses. a childhood of survival battles, followed by a lifetime of war make the sight more common than not. all this tells him is that Charon has regrets.
there's only one figure there for him. Wangwang, the foolish puppy that had been unable to overcome his instincts until the very end. "One who lived and died solely at the whims of another, unable to see past the misguided loyalty ingrained in their blood." and he'd died a long time ago, by Blood Fiend's — no, ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇'s — own hand.
a dull ache tugs at his chest at the sight, but nothing more. it's nothing compared to the still-muted agony of the spear, or the pounding in his head. the game had already pulled this stunt on him; it hadn't worked then, either.
Traumerei, on the other hand...
he should feel victorious. his sworn enemy, defeated. broken. it's everything he'd wanted, for as long as he can remember.
it feels empty. this isn't real. it never was.
he shivers. the Enhance slips from his grasp. ]
Re: cw self harm
he dies, and it stops hurting.
the dream does not dissolve into Death's halls. the dream does not dissolve into the ghosts of a thousand screaming sheep. the dream does not dissolve into nothingness and unmaking. it's just not that simple, he can almost hear Charon say.
instead, he sees velvet darkness filled with stars, and a vision of what might look like an impossible set of balancing scales, a cold silver thing that has not two cups to weigh and measure but hundreds of every shape and size. it hangs below him, vast as a world, its component parts gently drifting and spinning around and through themselves, ever-shifting. glittering red sand flows between them, fluid as shinsu and viscous as blood.
this vision doesn't explain itself or its incongruity with the rest of the dream, and maybe he's seen more miraculous things in the Tower, but the beauty of it may hold him for a moment, just the same.
and then he'll wake.]