[ 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.
[ 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.
[ 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. ]
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Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
where outside? there's the road, the garden and yard, the tall grass... ]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
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? ]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
Continue, or turn back? ]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
[Continue]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
You're pretty sure your nose is broken. ]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
[Takes hold of his own nose]
[Breaks it back into place and keeps going, fuck you especially, root]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
...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. ]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
[Fuck you, then, sword]
[...but he picks it up]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
...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. ]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
[fuck]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
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? ]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
admittedly, it hurts even worse to not have that perfectly sharp barrier holding things in, but. there you go ]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
[Fuck]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
also, there's a rumble of heavy thunder, and the sky is darkening rapidly around that pure black crack that runs across it now. ]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
[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,]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
[okay]
[Time to get back up]
[Can he keep pressing onward?]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
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. ]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
eventually, though, it starts to get a little easier, as passage goes; the stalks thin a little bit.
continue? ]
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
Re: SHRIKE'S BEDROOM
you emerge from the grass in a familiar location and happen upon a deeply weird scene ]