[PALACE GAME - LAN WANGJI RUN]

[laughitoff]

Everything is red. You are dying, somewhere far beyond pain, the very essence of yourself going to pieces. You’re shattering so badly you don’t know if you’ll ever find all of yourself again, if you’ll ever put yourself back together. There are teeth on you, ripping, tearing, devouring. There are teeth inside you, carving their way out, and those are worse.

This is a memory, happening at a remove. It is not yours. This is not happening now.

Everything is grey. You wake up in a prison cell, eyes wide, the ceiling flat and blank and unfamiliar above you. For a moment you simply think, no. You think, Please, wasn’t it over? Wasn’t it enough? You consider closing your eyes again and refusing to get up, until oblivion reclaims you. Even if you’re no longer dying, everything hurts.

This is a memory, happening at a remove. It is not yours. This is not happening now.

What is happening, then?

You–

–sit up.

Comments

[strikingchords]

[cool. god his lungs hurt. god everything hurts, phantom pain; he's going to have to stop and acknowledge that at some point soon

goes to that scar on the wall and sees what happens if he uses Heresy to open it up again]

[laughitoff]

[He cuts it open, spraying blood everywhere.

Something misshapen and heavy, a bit shorter than his forearm, falls out of the cut.]

[strikingchords]

[grabs for it before it hits the floor--?]

[laughitoff]

[It's a swordhilt, somewhat corroded from being STUCK IN A MEAT WALL for god knows how long.

His head is filled with screaming. He remembers --

You found this cursed sword in the shell of the Tortoise of Slaughter, as you crept through the corpses of the people it had dragged in to eat later. You don't know the sword's origins, but it must have killed a lot of people while its owner lived, and then absorbed more from the corpses. It nearly overwhelmed you with its energy, when you found it, and then you lost it in the Tortoise's pool, in the battle.

It doesn't overwhelm you now, though your attendant ghosts mutter in response to these new ones. You've had worse. You heft it in your hand. This will make us something to win the war, you think.

You wish you felt more joy about that. You just feel desperately tired.]

[strikingchords]

[VERY COOL, VERY COOL,



he's cognizant of the time limit at this point, heart hammering, ears echoing with the sound of screams still; is there any indication that this scar was another exit at one point?]

[laughitoff]

[It certainly could have been.]

[strikingchords]

[using his last Heresy to try to get it open the rest of the way, then]

[laughitoff]

[More blood flows--but he just carves a path out to stand next to the fox, a second wound in its body.]

[strikingchords]

[stares up at it, covered in blood and muck, dizzied, aching sharply in body and soul. he does not have a lot of resources for mental processing or emotions right now, but in such moments, he can always fall back on a certain kind of exasperated compassion. it is not the same thing as feeling sorry.]




Please consider today's experiences.

[laughitoff]

get lost

[strikingchords]

He bade me, stay.

[laughitoff]

GET LOST GET LOST GET LOST GET LOST

WE HATE YOU

WHY DID YOU HAVE TO COME

[strikingchords]

Do you truly not know?

[laughitoff]

FUCK YOU

[strikingchords]

...

Shameless.

[he's going back inside. bye]

[laughitoff]

[Back to the cave.]