|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Mar 25, 2012 7:01 pm
When Amrita woke from the Trials, she woke stiff as a board. While she was out rigor had set in, leaving her trapped in a body that refused to move. At first she lay there unable to do much else, her mind reeling. Did it really happen? Was what she saw real? It couldn't have been if she was back in her room now, but...if she was back, was Lizzy back? Calder? What about...what about Christof? Barth? They had died before her eyes; not just dissapited. Died. They crumbled like Red did, and left the feeling of finality after. She remembered feeling empty, and a great part of her did still feel that way, but the welcome and familiar sight of her ceiling, of home, made her hope.
But still; were they alive? Dead? Was she dreaming now? A figure had come to take her home, but...did the world exist outside of this room? Was this just an elaborate underground confinement area, set to destroy what was left of her sanity?!
Before long it was getting unbearable to be in her own head. She wanted to lash out, to cry, to take the nearest figure in a pristine white coat and bury them alive after showing them their own organs. Alas she could do none of these things in the state she was in, and so began with all her might to relieve the rigor in her joints; something she had never attempted to do before, and nobody was there to force and guide her limbs to bend.
She started with the weakest, smallest muscles first - fingers, toes - and worked her way up until she could bend her elbows. From there it was easy enough to ease her shoulders into a decent range of motion, and once she could sit up it was easy to make her knees bend and rotate her ankles. Rigor relieved from her joints, she struggled to her feet and staggered down the frozen hallway of the basement, happy to see that it was as familiar as her room. The stairs posed more of a problem but they were soon conquered and before she knew it she was running down the hallway as fast as her heavy body would allow, coming to a very unstable stop in front of an old, slightly charred door.
Christof's room.
"Christof...?" She called out, doing everything in her power to not try to break down the door right away. There was no answer. "Christof." Her voice was more stern this time, quickly losing patience in this whole being nice approach. Still no answer. Suddenly she was unable to be idle, and she grabbed the door handle, trying to give it a twist---
Nothing happened.
"No." It didn't budge. It wouldn't even turn. His door was locked.
She never remembered his door being locked. Ever. Something in the pit of her stomach twisted painfully, and there was something else weighing heavily on her heart.
"No!" She called in in disbelief, letting go of the handle and grabbing it again as though it would help. It didn't. Hand balled into a fist and beat against the door; there was nothing on the other side, not even the sounds of Scruff. Silence. Silence on the other end of the door.
"No...No...No...No...NO!"" The word repeated over and over, becoming some sort of mantra. Christof had died, and now he wasn't answering. His door was locked, and there was silence. Soon she felt her strength subsiding and her attempts to open his door or to elicit a response was met with nothing but failure; it was time to accept the truth. He had to be dead. No other option existed; he was gone, she didn't imagine it, it wasn't a dream. A Hunter caught him, and a Hunter killed him like they killed Red. Gone forever...her friend - no, he was more than that, but she didn't know the proper term - was gone.
"N-Noooo..." The despair was clear as sank like lead to her knees, one set of nails buried into the somewhat burnt wood, the other set digging so hard into her side that it broke skin. There, for the first time in her life and without the aid of flames, she started to cry.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Mar 25, 2012 7:29 pm
Mort was in a fugue upon waking from the dream, that . . . that nightmare. A true zombie in every sense of the word, he often stayed in one spot in his room, busying himself by either staring at the wall and finding patterns, or watching tv without remembering the shows, or laying flat out on his bed and just blanking out out. It wasn't depression, it was something deeper. More mindless. More feral even.
He wasn't even sure why one hour he decided to leave the room. He couldn't' even remember what he was thinking, or when it was his feet had hit the ground and walked to the door. All he knew was that he had a set destination somewhere out of the dorms.
Two seconds outside, he also added to his vast repertoire of empty knowledge that someone was evidently sobbing in the hall. The noise was strange and familiar in his ears at the same time, much like the figure who clutched at the door was. In either case she was along the way to the exit, so it would be hard to miss.
At the back of his head, though, Mort didn't want to avoid this crying ghoul. As much as the situation made him balk and grow nervous, it wasn't in him to simply walk on by, semi-fugue or not. And so he did, his footsteps echoing loudly in the hall despite her sobs until he stopped, several feet from . . . Aaah, he remembered now.
"What doing?" he asked quietly, his own voice sounding strange after so many hours of silence. "Why cry?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Mar 25, 2012 8:01 pm
The sound of footsteps broke through her misery, making her remember where she was. Her sobbing might have subsided, but she was still a mess both inside and out. Congealing blood leaked from her eyes instead of tears, the same sort of muddy-red substance that was starting to spot along her side where her nails remained embedded in unfeeling flesh.
She hoped that whoever it was would keep walking, but that was soon not the case. Instead she had been all set to ignore the other, until she recognized the voice. There was no way she could ignore someone she knew, however vaguely. That was...that was rude, and she could never knowingly be rude.
"H-He's...He's g-gone..." Amrita murmured, her voice straining to keep even and failing. "Th-they k-keep dying b-but...now he's...gone!" She couldn't bring herself to say dead, and the possibility that he was just out also never made it's way into her little circle of misery.
"And...and I...I'm tired of this." The overwhelming sadness in her voice was shifting, slowly crawling from despair to resentment. "Th-the struggle, the pain, w-watching my friends die, my home destroyed, over and over AND OVER AGAIN!" Her voice evened out as it raised angrily. "They play with us, they hurt us, they kill us, but we come back and they do it again and again..." The rage in her voice was dying out until despair once more took over, her body beginning to tremble.
"I-I can't...I can't do this anymore..." The tears returned and her body shook as sobs tore through her thin frame once more. "They're gone" She said this time through her tears; if Christof wasn't here, then neither was Barth. It was just the way it was.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Mar 25, 2012 9:30 pm
Mmm . . . he knew that feel, bro. Wait, did he? Maybe he didn't. It was easier not to think or feel. There wasn't any pain or sorrow that simply came from living moment to moment, even if it was the barest of living. Even standing in this moment, looking down at those bloody tears, he was a rock against harsh wind, immovable and yet knowing.
Knowing, in the back of his head, that there was a mountain of pain this rock only wanted to ignore. A mountain that would become a landslide if he was not careful. So he measured slowly his thoughts before reacting, breaking it down into a simple situation: a ghoul was crying, Hunters are mean, and she was a mess; most importantly, a ghoul was crying. That needed fixing right away, even if he wasn't the boil she wanted.
Mort squatted by her and put a hand on her shoulder, far more calmer and coherent than he would ever be normally and not so trance-like. "Are just healing," he explained patiently, like a parent speaking to a frightened scareling. "Halloween cannot die. Healing, sleeping. Come, will fix. Will try to help you. Pretty ghoul not should be crying when Hunters not win."
After all, it was technically not real Hunters they faced. It wasn't right for tears to be spilt on their behalf more than they should, right? He squeezed her shoulder, urging her to stand.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 29, 2012 12:51 pm
Amrita couldn't remember the last time she cried for real; every memory of it she could bring up shown her tears to be sparked by intense flames. She was normally as quiet and numb as Mort was being now...when did that change? When did she become a blubbering mess when being an unfeeling rock was going so well for her? She didn't like this anymore than Mort liked to see it. Life was easier when she didn't understand the world around her, clearly.
She stood quietly on Mort's urging, wiping her bloody eyes on her nice yellow sleeves. "I saw him die!" She insisted unhappily, but at least she didn't start bawling again. When she turned she didn't just turn to face him; instead she leaned in to wrap her arms under his for a hug, nuzzling her (less bloody) face into his shoulder. "Wh-what if they are gone...? Wh-what if it was real?!" Amrita murmured into his shoulder, squeezing him just a little tighter.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 29, 2012 3:18 pm
Ah dear. "Mrrr . . ." It was an involuntary noise, almost like purring. He thought and thought about how to proceed, mindlessly letting a hand stroke her hair down. He tried several times to speak, but the topic was like a lump in its throat that wouldn't ease. Even as undead, death could perturb. Thankfully, as because he was undead, Amrita could squeeze all she wanted and he wouldn't be blue in the face - well, bluer at least.
"Aren't gone," Mort managed to say after a while. "Wasn't real. Was t-turned n'to weapon too, but here stand yes? Iskay, iskay . . ." Right here, right now, Mort was okay with it being a dream: in a day's time or so he would be raging worse than a wrath demon. "What can do f-for calm down? Was going find book for reading story if want to c-come?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Apr 01, 2012 9:41 am
Thankfully, she didn't have the strength to shatter bones. Congrats, Mort, on keeping your skeletal system in one piece!
"Y-you were what?" She had heard of the Weaponizing before, but she hadn't ever seen it. To hear that Mort went though it...really didn't help that shaken feeling. But he was right at least, that he was still here so maybe, just maybe, Christof and Barth were, too. The hair pets were comforting too, more than he would ever know; it had been ages since anyone pat her head like this, and it always made her feel better. "I...I'm very sorry." Dying didn't seem as remotely terrifying as weaponizing...poor Mort! Yet he managed to stay strong so far, what was his secret?
"Yes, p-please, I would...really like that." She loosened her hold on him and slowly peeled her arms away with a sniffle, resorting to holding her elbows instead. "The, um, Library or...Maul?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
