idolpro | Shrike's Heart (#4)

Entry tags:

!heart games

Shrike's Heart (#4)

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ listen, dream logic spilled the blood, not you, so you're going to have to work a little harder and find some more people to stab for your underworld masters.

but you give the dead their peace. a woman with ash-grey hair walking a circle around the nearest pile of bodies mutters darkly as you jostle her. ]

Watch it!

Oh, sorry. Who are you?

[ the woman snorts. ]

It's fine, it's fine, just the backbone of the army here. Call me Testament. I have six more hours of this, though, so I don't have time for chit-chat.

[ she's been reading from a book while she walks, and chanting. ]

What are you doing? Maybe I can help.

"Serve as you were meant to serve," right—the Walker's keen on that, isn't he? And you've no sorcerous training, so perhaps you'd best stick to what you were recruited for.

[ she looks pointedly at the bloodied knife in your hand. ]

[They wrinkle their nose in irritation.]

I don't serve anyone. I like having a variety of skills to choose from.

[ the woman waves her hand dismissively. ]

A weapon always has a wielder. And, besides, it'd take at least six months to do even a crash course in necromancy. If it was so simple as, say, gardening, any soldier here could do it.

That thing can't wield me.

[Matter of factly.]

You can't be bringing them back from the dead?

[They seem kind of screwed up.]

[ the woman looks at you, flatly. ]

What sort of business do you think we're in, here?

You're right I don't have any sourcerous training, what else do you do with necromancy besides bring dead people back to life?

You sounded surprised. Of course that's what we're doing.

And technically there are quite a number of applications, all of which would be tiresome to explain, and, as I mentioned, I have hours of work to do.

I just thought they'd be too damaged... I can't see them being good for much beyond canon fodder.

If you have hours to go, why not take a break and have a drink with me?

These are the good ones. I swear, it wouldn't be bad if the Walker gave everyone basic training so I didn't have to answer all these entry-level questions.

[ she looks back at her work, though. ]

...on the other hand, who's going to report me.

I can't imagine this is fun to do sober.

[Cardigan pulls out their bottle of sake. They smile at her - a warm, inviting smile.]

I don't have any cups, so we'll have to share the bottle.

[ She shrugs. She doesn't seem so old as her grey hair implies. ]

I'm at least used to traveling with the army; I'm sure I'll manage.

[They pass her the bottle, letting their fingers brush against hers.]

What's your name?

[ her skin feels dry, papery—like you could cut yourself on it, if you tried—and she takes the bottle, efficient-like. ]

Testament to the Final Sunset. Or, my title, but close enough.

Very poetic. Why did you want to become a necromancer?

"Want to"—does anything really work that way, in this world?

There's always a choice, even if you don't like it the options.

Maybe for you.

[ she takes a swig from the bottle. ]

Servitude or death. Love or duty. Those aren't real choices. People who say there are just liked where they ended up landing.

[While she's doing this, Cardigan's going execute a maneuver to whack her cleanly unconscious.]

[ you fuckin karate chop her in the back of the neck or something and she goes out like a light because she's a nerd.

score. ]

How can you say choices aren't really when you just made the wrong one?

[Honestly, that whole ruse may not have even been necessary but Cardigan does NOT know anything about necromancers.

They are going to

1. grab their sake before it hits the ground
2. steal her tome of majjicks
3. loot her pockets
4. poke her just a little with their sword for that sweet sweet willpower.]

Edited 2020-02-22 06:33 (UTC)

[ you acquire
one (1) very evil necromancy book, which does not actually contain the secrets of necromancy as shrike does not know necromancy
one (1) now shaken bottle of sake
one (1) stick of chalk
one (1) willpower and more voices of the Neverborn in your head.

honestly the stabbing is starting to feel pretty good. what if you just bled her more? just a little bit more? blood begets blood begets blood begets—

you are now temporarily BLOODTHIRSTY. ]

Shrike's Heart (#4)

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