Shrike's Heart (#2)

[idolpro]

The woman before you is beautiful—fair of features, with lovely golden skin and luxurious long black hair, petite. You have the immediate and distinct impression that she's just let go of your hand, and she steps back, and smiles.

It's not quite a happy smile.

"I'm sorry," she says. "There's just nothing I can do, as things are. But the way is there; it just needs to be lit."

You open your mouth—maybe to say something, or to express confusion—but you have to cough, and taste something metallic, spattering black blood onto the ground in front of you. Then you realize—blood seeps from opening wounds in your arms, your chest, your stomach, your face. It rims your eyes and trails from your nose and you feel like you're dissolving—

—and you fall through the ground like it's the surface of a lake, and go down, down, down.

> Wake Up

Comments

> START

[handpuppets]

Once, there was a maiden...
...who lived in a tomb, and the tomb was made in her image.
Because she lived in a tomb, she became like the dead.
She slept, and dreamed.
And sometimes, woke, and walked within the confines of her tomb.
"Why do you move?" her own ghost asked. "Why walk at all?"


[ You hear the voice of the woman from before distantly, and then silence.

At first, it might seem like you have your eyes closed—it's so dark, but no. This world is sunless, lightless, silent; low, dark water covers the ground, although, it's a little hard to tell there's water, because—

—because what also covers the ground are corpses, as far as the eye can see. Some of them still have their eyes open; some have obvious wounds, and some don't. Some hold weapons in hand, and some have weapons driven through them.

This is a place for the dead. What does that make you?

But you can move, and sit up, and stand up, if you have the stomach for it.

Some distance away, you can hear water moving, like there's an uphill or downhill, and there's a vague sussuration at the edge of your consciousness that you instinctively strain to listen to.

You are also aware of the objectives and rules, instinctively. ]

A PATH

[handpuppets]

[ And then, inexplicably, a light appears at your feet, extending out into a single gold line—and there, a path, spiraling up onto a long, long staircase you couldn't see before. Maybe to somewhere other than here.

"I am not trapped while yet I run," says a voice.

Perhaps you'd better.

Proceed. ]

Re: A PATH

[justfuckingtryit]

[Then, he will proceed.]

[He pushes onward.]

Re: A PATH

[constellationprize]

[ that's

this is.

all really a bit much, but there's nothing for her to do but proceed, so on we go. forward. ]

Re: > START

[nihilmancy]

[Well, this is okay. I like this.

But first, if this is a place of the dead, it is not right to simply let them lie here like a charnel house. She kneels down, pulling out weapons, closing their eyes.]

I will not fail you.

Re: > START

[handpuppets]

[ Nice here, isn't it?

A little nicer, now that you've made the dead a little more restful. You gain +1 WILLPOWER for your consideration.

The corpses stretch for some distance—all real-seeming, distinct faces, still and ashen in complexion. Some seem like total strangers, or perhaps vaguely familiar at best. Mixed in with all of them are the bodies of your fellow idols—you might see your own face mirrored there, though for whatever reason, it seems wholly unfamiliar, if unsettling. ]

Re: > START

[nihilmancy]

[Bending down to examine "herself" closer!]

Re: > START

[handpuppets]

[ Well, she certainly looks like you, down to the haircut and clothes, but it's a little like looking at a photograph that is clearly of you but that you don't remember being taken.

And you're standing right here, aren't you?

She seems to have been killed with a sword, though.

Meanwhile, water might be soaking into your shoes, but it doesn't feel cold, here.

It doesn't feel like anything.

The whispering just at the edge of your hearing grows a little more distinct. It's like they're coming from somewhere, a little ways away. It feels like you should follow, eventually, but it's not urgent. ]

Re: > START

[nihilmancy]

[Investigating the idols' bodies, to determine if there is any sort of there is any sort of pattern to who is here, and who is not- and if they have all been killed in the same way.]

[romanticlove]

[Ren normally had barely an issue seeing at night, even though this place limited many of her natural abilities as a vampire. This place was different. It was dark and she could barely see her own hand in front of her face. The smell - the smell - was awful. The smell of the dead, just like her memory with her father teaching her to be a Hunter, was absolutely nauseating.]

Hello? How many of us are here?

[She tries to get to her feet, narrowly avoiding slipping on what was probably a corpse with the squishing sound it made. She sucks in a breath, trying to find a wall, a tree, something to hold her up.]

[handpuppets]

[ There's nothing vertical nearby to hold onto, though if you squint, a little ways into the distance, you can see... the vague outline of something large, like a wall, or a building's front.

But you manage to stand, and find your footing amongst the dead. Water might soak into your shoes, but it doesn't feel cold, here.

It doesn't feel like anything.

The whispering just at the edge of your hearing grows a little more distinct. It's like they're coming from somewhere, a little ways away. It feels like you should follow, eventually, but it's not urgent. ]

[romanticlove]

[The whispers aren't clear, but she knows to follow them. They would lead her somewhere. To where, she had no idea. She scours the corpses for the nearest weapon-like object she can get her hands on as she moves in the dark.]

[handpuppets]

[ there are so many—you have your pick, honestly. the only kind of weapon you don't see represented here is anything modern, and there are no guns whatsoever.

the whispers mount as you continue walking. like a chorus of chattering voices—some quiet, some occasionally rising to audible phrases, like snippets of conversation you're not a part of that you just happen to catch. you hear—

the place where you stand is the place you were born for

—and then that particular voice gets drowned out by others. ]

[romanticlove]

[She's picked a sword - holding it steady in one hand as she tries to get a sense of her surroundings. The voices becoming more audible as she approaches gives her a little hope she's coming closer to something. There was no way it would be that easy.]

What I was born for...?

[It could have something to do with her or it could have nothing to do with her at all. She didn't know.]

If you mean to protect people as a Hunter, I'll do it. Though, everyone here is dead...

[And the smell was making her throat feel tight. The smell of the dead and rotting flesh. It was risky if she let it overwhelm her.]

[nihilmancy]

Nova? I am here.

[romanticlove]

Oh! I'm so glad.

[Well, not glad, but it's a familiar face so she can't complain.]

Any ideas where we are?

[nihilmancy]

...This is like a dream that Shrike had once. I was in that dream.

Re: > START

[justfuckingtryit]

[Climbing to his feet and surveying the absolute sea of dead.]

This was one fuck of a battle.

[He glances at the corpses nearest him, looking for one with a spear.]

Re: > START

[handpuppets]

[ you survey the corpses, and find a spear sticking up—

it turns out to be still clutched tightly in the hand of Griffin of avante en garde, who lays with a bloody gash across his stomach, and one across his neck. ]

Re: > START

[justfuckingtryit]

[Well. Fuck.]

[He bends to ease the spear out of his hand - hesitates, frowning, and closes Griffin's eyes.]

Re: > START

[handpuppets]

[ You close his eyes. He looks very... different, in death, somehow. But perhaps it can bring him some measure of peace, if you pick up his weapon and let him rest; you gain +1 WILLPOWER. ]

Re: > START

[constellationprize]

[ She does, in fact, not have the stomach for it. It takes all the energy she has to suppress the bile rising in her throat, but -

as she gets her bearings, more than a cause for fear or nausea she finds the circumstances heartbreaking; the people here number more than she can easily count, under means she can barely bring herself to understand - that upset weighs heavy enough to quash her worry just enough to bring her to her feet, shutting the eyes of nearby corpses, removing weapons when her strength allows it. ]

... I'm sorry . . .

Re: > START

[handpuppets]

[ It's hard to find your footing, but you do it. Water might soak into your shoes, but it doesn't feel cold, here.

It doesn't feel like anything.

The corpses stretch for some distance—all real-seeming, distinct faces, still and ashen in complexion. Some seem like total strangers, or perhaps vaguely familiar at best; like they might resemble someone you've met, a little bit.

Mixed in with all of them are the bodies of your fellow idols—you might see your own face mirrored there, though for whatever reason, it seems wholly unfamiliar, if unsettling. ]

Re: > START

[constellationprize]

[ Please she is trying so hard not to throw up

It's slow in kind, the way that she goes about it, having to pause routinely to catch her breath even as she grows accustomed to them; even being able to convince herself that they (and herself, a familiar face that she can't quite put her finger on) aren't real, or that they are, at least, a fabrication, it's altogether too chilling for her to easily endure.

But, still. She makes her way onward, slowly, carefully, determined to help as much as she can. ]

Re: > START

[handpuppets]

[ You are kind; you put them to whatever rest you can, even while you try to pick your way across the sea of bodies. The water sounds like it's getting closer, at least. Maybe that means there's an end to this?