[ 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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Hallucinations - Nemesis, cw self harm, decapitation/dismemberment/making humans into tiny pieces
When you try to escape, force you back into your room. When you have no other choice but to tell them—he's in danger, you know he's in danger, you have to go—they look at you with pitying eyes, and you're ushered back into bed, it's alright, it's alright, nothing's happening.
They don't understand. Why aren't they listening to you? How can you make them listen? If only you could better sneak away, but although you've managed to memorize the layout of your room, your tactile memory can only go so far—and otherwise, the world is completely dark. Hands that you don't know are familiar—larger hands, smaller hands—will pull you away when you try to walk one way, and if they were tugging you every which way without a care then maybe it would be more bearable but their touches are gentle and caring and gently, gently, pushing you aside—gently, gently, rejecting you.
Because you're a liability, of course—you already know. You can hear it in their voices, and in the silence—you don't even know if Cardigan is around anymore, or if they just got too tired of dealing with you. They probably did; you aren't worth their energy. You can't even stab yourself to get your eyes back—you were too much of a coward at the time that you lost your eyes and now it's too late, no one will let you do it.
Finally, finally, you manage to convince them to just check. Just check on Hurricane—just let you check on Hurricane is what you want but they won't acquiesce that much so you take what you can get, but.
Has it been an hour? Has it been three? Five? You can't tell—the passage of time is so much worse now that you can't see, now that the world is blind, and soon enough you're bumping over chairs and into walls trying to get out. You have to go, you have to go—they're not here and hey, maybe they forgot about you, and that thought evokes a bitterness in the back of your mouth but right now, you can be thankful about that, right? You can do things yourself—you can find him yourself, and you can save him yourself. It's better that way.
You make it all the way to the elevator, and by the elevator, I mean you end up walking down the stairs after mistaking the stairwell's door for the elevator, and by walking down the stairs I mean you trip and roll and hit the landing and then roll down and hit the landing again, and so on and so forth, and you can't tell what floor you're on anymore and you can't tell which direction you have to go and eventually, after maybe suffering what's probably going to end up being a concussion, you fumble to stand up.
On the ground, somewhere, there's a cold blade; your stomach sinks when you remember what you could do; -this time, you can make up for being a coward—so you breathe in and out, one, two—
The pain in your gut and the inconvenience of your clothes being ruined is more than a fair price for your eyesight returning, and at last, you run to find him.
But, when you make it there—it's far too late. Worse, you see—her.
Requiem stands over Hurricane's body—no, to say that it's a body would be inaccurate, human bodies don't come in that many pieces—with her bass axe, brandishing it as though she'd just finished chopping up the firewood. She turns just then, though, abruptly—probably because you're screaming while you summon as many swords as you can—and her eyes grow wide for a moment before her pupils shrink, and you feel your wounds unraveling, pulling apart like a loose thread pulling until the clothing is completely ruined. Everywhere—hurts—
Even so, you take the knife in your hand and you stab yourself over and over as you stab yourself over and over and heal yourself and as you manage to work closer and closer to her, you plant the knife into her chest.
Suddenly, as her eyes widen again and tears bead at the corners of her eyes, as her body grows limp, as she joins Hurricane's pile of bodyparts on the floor, you feel a sense of peace. More than that—maybe it's just the adrenaline, maybe it's just the high of fighting for your life—or maybe it's the taste of vengeance, the grim satisfaction of avenging him even if you failed to protect him yet again—
For whatever reason, you feel pretty good right now.
Re: Hallucinations - Nemesis, cw self harm, decapitation/dismemberment/making humans into tiny piece
Physical:
> Stab wounds
> Unable to stop crying
> Unable to speak
Non-Physical:
> Increase guilt
> Unable to tell directions