[ The room is BRIGHT YELLOW, as all the rooms you will enter are. Black tiles make up the floor, changing to your unit's color when pressure is placed on them. There is a button in the very center of the room standing on a podium; it's slightly smaller than palm-sized.]
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![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Song vs Wednesday
Re: Song vs Wednesday
[casually walking out, feeling Confident]
Re: Song vs Wednesday
[It's like someone simply flipped on a light switch: just like that, Wednesday's in another room, staring down another girl, and
[she has one advantage
[one
[she runs straight for the button, at four times speed.]
Re: Song vs Wednesday
[she sees a blur, god that's right, powers--AND TRIES TO PULL AN INTENSITY BY TECHNOKINETICALLY PRESSING THE BUTTON]
Re: Song vs Wednesday
[An eyeblink later, Wednesday's slamming her palm against the button as hard as she can. One advantage, but one's enough--
[She meets Symphony's eyes.
[She'll regret this later, too.]
1/2
...are you serious? You can't be serious!
Re: Song vs Wednesday
[CHARGING OVER TO HER]
Re: Song vs Wednesday
[She's well clear of it by the time Symphony makes it to the podium: a second later and she's kicked in Energy Recharge as well. Cloud Nine and she's calm. Quick as a Wink and she's fast. All she has to do now is keep moving, and moving's the one thing she can do.
[But, just in case--
[Her palms tingle. Sparks crackle at the tips of her fingers. Stay back, Symphony. It's over.]
Re: Song vs Wednesday
You're not even going to say anything?! You know I can't even hurt you, right, my powers are fucking useless here! Can't even press a stupid button!
I hate it, everyone always has an advantage over me here!
And know what, I hate you, too!
Re: Song vs Wednesday
[Calm calm calm, unfamiliar, icy, she doesn't like it, it doesn't feel right it isn't her but it has to be because she has to survive, she has to fight, she has to get through this, for the others, for everyone: so they know, they know that pep!pep! don't just give up without trying. They'd all been so angry, with all of them--
[Calm. She has to embrace it, as cold and strange as it is.]
I didn't.
[She sighs.]
I'm sorry.
[And she's all coiled tension. Motion, stilled.
[She'll move again, if she must.]
1/2
Re: Song vs Wednesday
Ha! "Sorry?" Didn't think peps valued their own lives, I'm shocked!
Re: Song vs Wednesday
[She's calm enough to ask that, now.]
Doesn't everyone do that?
Re: Song vs Wednesday
Re: Song vs Wednesday
Re: Song vs Wednesday
Good on you!
Re: Song vs Wednesday
[And she feels something else there, beneath the flat, level calm, something that isn't sorrow or guilt or fear--]
Well? What else should I have done?
[--and she's startled enough to let her grasp slip on her anger.]
Re: Song vs Wednesday
[she chuckles, but she sniffs shortly afterwards, crying sucks]
Know what? I'm not going to answer that for you! Dwell on it, wallow in it, I want you to struggle!
Re: Song vs Wednesday
[Nobody wins these games. She's known that for a very, very long time.]
Re: Song vs Wednesday
I won't forget this!
Hallucinations - Song, cw impalement, burning, bone breaking
You don't deserve the body that is rightfully yours.
It's clear from the way you're treated, the assumptions they all make. That Silence was the one in control, that she always is. As you cower in an alleyway, you look up at the brick wall plastered with posters of the murderer they're looking for. It's your face, yes. The one that belongs to you, yes. But the expression? That's not yours. It belongs to Silence.
The murderer was Silence, not you! It isn't your fault! No, it's absolutely hers, entirely hers!! You tell yourself that, over and over. Not your fault. Not your fault. Her fault. Her fault. Hers hers hers hers and you cry because you feel like even you want this body to be hers. You're the one who let her do it. You're the one who wants her to face the things you don't want to. Every scary awful bloody thing that happens should be her problem, not yours! And if she commits a murder while dealing with that - that's not your fault! So why - why doesn't she deal with this?! It's her problem, she made it for you, and if she wants to take up all the time she spends in control of this body and not leave any for you she can deal with this, too! Why do you have to be the one who's singled out and ostracized and treated like a leper! Just because she stole your face...!
So you tell her. You tell her to get out there and fix the mess she made. And she protests: she didn't do it, she says. But you look at the posters again. That twisted, wicked grin. The gleeful smile, reveling in violence. No, that couldn't be you. Sure, maybe you've had to defend yourself violently a few times, but you never enjoyed it! It had to be her. She's always the one stealing time from you, anyway. She's always the one who deals with the bad things. You don't, you can't, and you wouldn't do something like this!
The bloody knife in your hand, it's hers. The blood you lick from your lips - it's her tongue and her lips, obviously, so why should it matter that you like how it tastes!
You mumble something angrily - and then she yells at you. Says she's tired of being treated like this, demands to know what's gotten into you, says she's scared because you just said you'd kill her…
…?
That's ridiculous. You'd never kill anyone, even if she is your annoying sister! And - and why is she yelling at you! You don't deserve this! You get up in a huff, run out into the streets, and punt her into the front seat.
She can clean up her mess, you think, your body wracked with your sobs as the crowd approaches. It's her fault. She killed all those people. She's the one they loved and now she's the one they hate! If she wants this body so badly, she can deal with feeling it impaled by the crowd's pitchforks, burned by their torches. She can feel their boots smash in her ribs and throat and break her limbs. It's fine! You're not hurt. It's her. She's the one who's dying.
And maybe you'll kill every single one of them for doing this to you, once the body heals. But she'll be the murderer, not you.
The world goes black as the boot comes down on your face, and all you can think as it does is what kind of cake you'll have for dessert tonight.
Re: Hallucinations - Song, cw impalement, burning, bone breaking
Physical:
> Broken ribs
> Burned all over
> Broken arm or leg or both
Non-Physical:
> Fear of replacement
> Increase anger
> Desire to reject Silence