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Vergil's heart game (out of time)
You feel weak, your body won't move no matter how you try, and you are falling, away from everything you know and love. Away from everything you need to accomplish. If you could just reach out, maybe you could hold on to it, claw your way back. But it's a useless endeavour, you fall unconscious, and your mind goes blank except for poetry and a familiar voice.
O mother Enitharmon, wilt thou bring forth other sons?
To cause my name to vanish, that my place may not be found,
For I am faint with travail,
Like the dark cloud disburden'd in the day of dismal thunder.
My roots are brandish'd in the heavens, my fruits in earth beneath
Surge, foam and labour into life, first born and first consum'd!
Consumed and consuming!
Then why shouldst thou, accursed mother, bring me into life?
You wake on the ground in a cave, cold, wet, and sticky. It smells of rotting flesh. Your objective is clear, but you can't recall a name or face. Nothing else about your memory of him is changed, but for some reason the name "Vergil" just won't come to you, and you couldn't describe how he looks if your life depended on it. But at least your body starts to respond to your will, slowly regaining enough strength to carry on.
To cause my name to vanish, that my place may not be found,
For I am faint with travail,
Like the dark cloud disburden'd in the day of dismal thunder.
My roots are brandish'd in the heavens, my fruits in earth beneath
Surge, foam and labour into life, first born and first consum'd!
Consumed and consuming!
Then why shouldst thou, accursed mother, bring me into life?
You wake on the ground in a cave, cold, wet, and sticky. It smells of rotting flesh. Your objective is clear, but you can't recall a name or face. Nothing else about your memory of him is changed, but for some reason the name "Vergil" just won't come to you, and you couldn't describe how he looks if your life depended on it. But at least your body starts to respond to your will, slowly regaining enough strength to carry on.
PETRIFIED FIELD
Of paved heaven,
With sorrow fraught
My notes are driven:
They strike the ear of night,
Make weep the eyes of day;
They make mad the roaring winds,
And with tempests play.
Like a fiend in a cloud
With howling woe,
After night I do croud,
And with night will go;
I turn my back to the east,
From whence comforts have increas'd;
For light doth seize my brain
With frantic pain.
It takes some walking, how long have you been wandering through caverns? It becomes more and more difficult to tell them apart. Have you already been this way? Do you know how to make it back? Do you even know where you want to end up?
The area opens up into what looks very much like a field of feather grass and wildflowers. The grass however is a light lavender shade, and the red petals of the flowers seem to glow. It's light here, the sky muddled and grey like night, but still, this is a far cry from the near blackness of the fleshy caves. The rock outcropping that looks like coral reef is almost beautiful. It could be nice to rest here.
You're getting tired. You should rest, it's awfully tempting...
Re: PETRIFIED FIELD
[Oh. This place is different than where she was. She hadn't expected to suddenly be outside, surrounded by flowers. She blinks, feeling tired all of a sudden. Part of her doesn't think that would be exactly smart, but she can't help it. She feels it, like her entire body is begging for rest.]
I shouldn't...
[She still finds herself dropping down to her knees to look at the flowers up close. Would it hurt to pluck one? They don't seem dangerous at first glance.]
Maybe just... for a few minutes?
[The field of flowers looked soft, after all. She decides to touch the flowers, curious, before committing to actually taking a nap. While she examines the flowers and the grass, she looks around - is there another way out of here or perhaps something she can take with her? Can she take any flowers with her?]
Re: PETRIFIED FIELD
The grass might be a strange colour but it's light and fluffy, tall enough just to brush your knees. It makes the patch toward the centre that is either missing or flattened quite distinct... The way the path leads seems to be far too overgrown with the rocks to get past, but from one of the spikes there's a book hanging by its cover.
Re: PETRIFIED FIELD
Hm. A path...?
[She follows it until she gets to the spikes where the book is hanging.]
Ah- who would just treat a book like that?
[You poor book. It's fine. She's taking the book and smoothing out any wrinkles or folded pages or whatever.]
Re: PETRIFIED FIELD
(For anyone who's already been in Raven's heart, you won't remember having been there before, this is just a backdoor entrance. You can tag into it to snoop or just handwave a look around/leaving immediately as you like)
Re: PETRIFIED FIELD
What? Again?
[Vergil why does your heart have a a teleportation book??? Is there another way out of the field, maybe?]
Re: PETRIFIED FIELD
You could wander this place for quite some time before finding anywhere it leads, there's that coral reef rock formation on all sides into the distance, so really, it's a dead end.
But just as you start to look, you begin to feel too drowsy to go on, eyes heavy, relaxed. This really is a peaceful spot, whether you're conscious of the choice or not, you're soon laying down.
The grass tickles your skin, itches slightly. Should it be able to touch your bare shoulder?
Re: PETRIFIED FIELD
It dawns on her after a moment that maybe it's not her imagination. Even though she's tired, even though she just wants to lay here and rest, she tries to sit up and get a look at the grass.]
Re: PETRIFIED FIELD
You would need to spend 1 Perseverance to fight it off, but you don't have any...
Re: PETRIFIED FIELD
Ah- [She struggles, trying to kick her feet or move her arms as the grass winds tighter. She gasps when it pierces her skin.]
No!
[The ground is undoubtedly soaked with her blood as the grass sinks deep inside of her, feeding the flowers most likely. Will she die here? All signs seem to point to yes.]
Re: PETRIFIED FIELD
You wake up in the cave again, cradled in the spindly, steel arms of half a dozen hooded, faceless, wraith-like creatures. Or so they appear. There's no life in them, no more than a statue holding you upon its lap not unlike the Pietà .
It sloughs away into nothing the moment you stand.