shadow over dreamwidth [open post]

[veratrum]

[This is an open post for Rune/Solomon/Ilhatar/Liam O'Rian/Freckled Garbage Monster. Here are some scenarios for you.

A. Baby It's Awful Down Where it's Wetter
A few seconds ago, you were doing...whatever it was you were doing, in the place you expected to be in. Now you are not. This is...it looks to be a basement or something, marble floors and glass walls (which makes it fucking freezing, by the way, I hope you have a coat). The light is very dim and sickly green; what's worse is that it flickers and dances and leers like a drunken, living thing. Also those glass walls? Aquarium walls. Some of the fish swim in and out of view, and they're all horrible deep-sea monstrosities, of course they are. There are little placards beneath the glass, listing all the awful, awful species.

Also, there's a young man, sitting on a sofa, the only furniture in the room, reading a book. In this light? He'll ruin his eyes.

B. A Little Bit Of Gardening Never Hurt Anyone (We Cared About)

As a contrast, this is a garden. It's a beautiful garden! It's peaceful, and in full bloom, and the sun's shining in through the glass. Ignore things like the skull-shaped pots for some of the smaller plants, and the fact that every single flower in here is poisonous or has thorns or both. Also, there's a freckled...person with a giant floppy sunhat staring at you. All his hair, poking out from under the hat, is also staring at you.

They would like to know why you're in their garden?

C. STOP SUMMONING FOREIGNERS GODDAMMIT

Like. Whatever Holy Grail War this is, however completely fucked the greater grail is this time, a summoning circle probably shouldn't vomit black ooze and your command seals just turned bright green and all the shadows have eyes. Have we learned nothing from the Einsenbergs? Have we learned nothing from Chaldea?

Anyway the shadowy mess coming out of the circle seems to have turned to regard you, what do.

D. Make up your own prompt, live freely, I'm not your Dad

Comments

[yourwholetruth]

[it's not like their goddess foremother has wolf iconography?? they're still confused. but they'll take the basket, not flinching at it being handed to them by his hair. it is a thing, it happens.] ...I will do my best. [and they will go do that. carefully. at least they're good at ignoring supernatural voices telling them things. will it help? maybe???

And going to start gathering the roses. snip. snip.]

[veratrum]

[He's just thinking of the wrong Amaterasu, don't worry about it.

Anyway the roses, uh. Scream. When they're picked. The stems bleed. The roses sob, and cry, and shriek, and their untouched bretheren start murmuring under it all.

Telling him to run.

Telling him to hide.

Flee, flee, flee, from the soul-eater, the destroyer, the Nothing Man.

Run. Or fight.]

[yourwholetruth]

[they are frail. they have always been frail, from the moment they were born and now they are dying, inch by inch, but for all the strength and vigor their body lacks, they have in their will. their hands might tremble and catch on thorns, but they will not run. they will not hide.

instead, they sing, the same songs that they've used for two years to keep lulling the goddesses back into their slumber to sing the untouched roses to sleep as they fill their basket, with all the power of a true sorcerer behind it. it might not work, especially because their body isn't here, but they're still going to sing the roses a lullaby.]

[veratrum]

[If anything, that made it worse? The vines stir and struggle, trying to pull up from the rods and string that keep the bushes growing straight. Trying to pull up out of the shadows in the soil.

Their eyes open, and fix on him.

They see you. They see you. They see you. Sorcerer. Witch. Weakling. Deceiver.

The noise grows louder by the second. These roses--these souls twisted and bound into roses--they're not normal souls.]

[yourwholetruth]

[if they're not normal souls, what are they? and since their singing made it worse, they're going to stop. but they're not going to stop gathering the flowers, even as the eyes open.

(they are all those things. those are all things that they have told themself in the dark of night. truths about themself they have to acknowledge.)

this is a test. they will not fail. maybe they will wake up at any moment, but they have worse trials ahead of them in their future, and they will not give up. they can't. snip. snip. snip.]

[veratrum]

[The screaming is cacophonous now--murderer, murderer, murderer--

and then something claps over their ears. They're not hands. Their touch, their skin, everything feels wrong, horrifyingly wrong, a nightmare with a sweet, seductive scent. A thousand thousand voices suddenly--silent.]

Ah, that's enough of that.

[yourwholetruth]

[...they're just going to stay very, very, very still. and not going to turn around.] ...thank you. [very, very politely.] Ah, I believe that I've...filled the basket.

[veratrum]

So I see.

[He reaches around to take it. The flowers are silent now, in his presence, but there's still some ungodly hum, a crawling sensation and a sweet rotting scene, enough to make someone dizzy.]

I didn't think you'd manage! Well done.

[yourwholetruth]

[they're going to pass him the basket and take a few breaths. very calmly. dizziness is a sensation that they're well-used to. that crawling sensation and hum, though...] Are there any other tasks that you require...assistance with?

[veratrum]

That's a bit of a loaded question to ask a god, isn't it?

[Tipping their head back so they have to look at his face. That horrible, horrible face, with too many eyes, bright shining teeth, among a shadow that cannot be penetrated.]

You're really trusting, aren't you?

[yourwholetruth]

[not looking away, even though it's horror on a scale like looking into the tombs of the triad.] It isn't a matter of trust. [because they aren't.]

[veratrum]

Oh, so just spineless and passive, then. What a pity.

[Letting them go, and shrugging.] But since you asked, there's a few things I could take from you.

[yourwholetruth]

[not especially bothered. they're nowhere near spineless and know it, but they don't bother to correct him. useless might be a better descriptor.] Such as?

[veratrum]

One of your eyes, your teeth, your tongue, your blood...Although I'm not fond of the last, it's hard to measure out properly in the moment, and I certainly don't need all of it.

[yourwholetruth]

Do I have a choice in what I give?