idolpro | Shrike's Ideal World 🌾 Run #2

[Hmm]

[No, actually, he doesn't need to poke through the letters, after all. He thinks he knows plenty about this place, now]

[With one final glance around, he lets himself back out the door to explore outside]

[ hm!

where outside? there's the road, the garden and yard, the tall grass... ]

[To the tall grass!]

[ The grasses sway quietly in the wind, a sea of green and brown and greenish brown... a soft, dull color under the greenish-grey sky. It's peaceful, to be surrounded by this, even though rain's on the horizon. A little lonely, but in the way of a dull, barely-obvious ache instead of a stabbing pain.

There's sort of a slight whispery quality to the way the grasses rustle that makes you... feel uneasy, maybe. Like someone's whispering in your ear but you can't quite tell what they're saying.

Continue? ]

[Continues onward]

[ Continuing out into the fields, the grasses grow thick—almost impassable. The stalks leave scratches on your arms and face—any exposed skin.

Continue, or turn back? ]

[It's going to take a fuck of a lot more than some grass to turn him around]

[Continue]

[ You're still trying to move on when a stick or a root or something in your path sends you sprawling face-first into the ground, nose slamming into solid earth with a crack.

You're pretty sure your nose is broken. ]

[Stands up]

[Takes hold of his own nose]

[Breaks it back into place and keeps going, fuck you especially, root]

[ it's worth noting that what you have tripped over is...

...a sword.

This is a huge sword, forged of dark metal that shines like an oilslick. It almost feels like the air around it is... colder, somehow. ]

[Well.]

[Fuck you, then, sword]

[...but he picks it up]

[ The sword seems to have a singular, wicked mind of its own, and when you reach to pick it up—somehow it's turned in your hand, somehow you approach it wrong, and...

...it buries itself in your gut, lancing all the way through. It hurts—it hurts so terribly, so badly, and you can feel blood soaking into your clothing, and the shifting of your guts. You cough, and there's blood that spatters there, too.

And yet, the life doesn't feel like it's leaving you. You're just also beset by the sharp, burning pain of a stomach wound. ]

[well]

[fuck]

[ yeah, what the fuck!

it bleeds, and bleeds, the blood soaking into the ground, but—curiously, you still don't feel like you're dying. shouldn't this kill you? ]

[Takes hold of the hilt, and tries to pull it out, teeth gritted agaisnt the pain]

[ you can pull it out! it's not terribly hard apart from how large the sword is.

admittedly, it hurts even worse to not have that perfectly sharp barrier holding things in, but. there you go ]

[THERE WE GO]

[Fuck]

[ anyway i guess you could keep it as a souvenir if you wanted

also, there's a rumble of heavy thunder, and the sky is darkening rapidly around that pure black crack that runs across it now. ]

[cool]

[cool]

[Give him a sec to get it together, a sword wound in the gut is not as easy to shake off as a broken nose,]

[ ganba, thorn ]

[whew]

[okay]

[Time to get back up]

[Can he keep pressing onward?]

[ sure can, dude

the grasses are thick, and rough as he pushes through... and well above his head. it could be easy to get lost out here.

the farther he goes, the scratches turn to scrapes turn to tiny stinging cuts. ]

[he is literally bleeding from a gut wound, he can handle some scratches]

[ still sucks, though

eventually, though, it starts to get a little easier, as passage goes; the stalks thin a little bit.

continue? ]

[he's gone too far to turn back now]

Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM

softlyfalling - 2020-08-07 03:44 (UTC) - Expand