לִילִית (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
idharlotry) wrote2019-01-05 10:01 pm
idharlotry) wrote2019-01-05 10:01 pm
(no subject)
[ You wake up in a hallway.
There's an ambient buzz in the background—the world around you hums, it's warm in the hallway and the ground feels as though there's something constantly thudding in rhythm, lubdub, lubdub. It's a little different from what you expected, isn't it…?
The walls look twisted and grotesque, circuitry lining a ribbed texture of walling, the floor itself sloped with notches as if a skeleton - as if this entire hallway were a ribcage with too many bones. There's the smell of rotting flesh, but there's nothing here but you.
There's the sense of someone watching you, but there's no one here but you.
There's a light at the end of the hallway, an open door that yields the sound of ambient chatter. ]
There's an ambient buzz in the background—the world around you hums, it's warm in the hallway and the ground feels as though there's something constantly thudding in rhythm, lubdub, lubdub. It's a little different from what you expected, isn't it…?
The walls look twisted and grotesque, circuitry lining a ribbed texture of walling, the floor itself sloped with notches as if a skeleton - as if this entire hallway were a ribcage with too many bones. There's the smell of rotting flesh, but there's nothing here but you.
There's the sense of someone watching you, but there's no one here but you.
There's a light at the end of the hallway, an open door that yields the sound of ambient chatter. ]
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[He was expecting the lobby of the game tower, but maybe there's another part to the game? This one had that survey thing first, right?]
...hello?
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then, it returns. are you going to start moving? ]
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[If it's a game, he'd better get moving.]
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The walls seem to pulse, lubdub, lubdub, veins of light racing through them; from the ceiling are hanging wire boxes that look like hundreds of alien beasts twisted together, biting tails to form the chains in order to hold the glass - the same can be found on the walls themselves too, bottles lining up against the biowiring; the bar counter itself looks like a square jaw with two rows of teeth pressed together, made of not-quite-flesh not-quite-metal material that shapes like creatures forced to kneel, curl up and become pressed furniture. Impressions of horrified faces jut out on the tables, but they're not quite human faces either - they're too wiry and long or otherwise with too many teeth that are entirely too sharp, looking entirely too alive to be as still as they are. The people here, too - the bartender, too - are twisted wiring and bare skeletons, flesh raised unevenly like there are creatures just below the skin that twist and move as the people move.
The ambient chatter here is like computer noise, the uncanny valley of something robotic that sounds too close to human - or maybe something human that's been run through so many filters that it sounds robotic now.
There is one woman who defies the nature of this place: she is dressed to match the decor, spine nodes jutting from the back to highlight her posture - of course she doesn't slouch but she is relaxed, like a lioness resting before the hunt - but besides that, she looks normal. Well, not normal - she's beautiful, regal and elegant, but there's nothing besides fashion choices that makes her match the environment at all. She's already nursing a drink at the counter, seated on a skeleton block, and when she sees Hurricane, the woman lifts her half-empty glass of chocolate-colored cocktail. ]
Took you long enough.
[ She speaks pleasantly, looking amused. ]
Come here, boy.
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[He freezes in the doorway - glances back the way he came, then back at Lilith. He has definitely seen the selfie with her in it.]
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[ with a smile that's all teeth ]
I won't repeat myself, boy.
[1/2]
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[Wait.]
[When it clicks, he sticks there in the doorway for a beat or two too long.]
[Then at last, with the slow limp of his wounds leftover from the game, he approaches.]
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[ she gestures to the bartender, who starts fixing a drink for him. ]
Sit. Make yourself comfortable.
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[He looks at the furniture - at the faces just under the surface.]
It, uh. It okay if I stand?
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[ :) ]
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[...sits. Down.]
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[ the bartender sets what looks like a mug of hot chocolate in front of hurricane, now ]
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I mean, I know in general, but like. What's with the decor?
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[He eyes the hot chocolate, a little suspicious, but doesn't make to try it yet.]
1/3
[ jutting a perfectly manicured nail out to touch his chin, pleasant ]
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But nothing worked.
You're still here.
And you're still walking. ]
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the woman continues on, as if she had been in mid-sentence; she's readjusting herself now on her seat, as if she'd been leaning forward and now she's straightening up. ]
- but it's starting to overstay its welcome. So, it's about time for me to go.
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[As though to prove through touch that he's actually sitting here, in this room, and not somewhere else.]
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I don't have much hope for you . . . but that last round was quite the performance.
Now, it's time for you to go too.
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Go - go where?
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But, like. You charge, right?
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[But he lifts his chin slightly, and squares his shoulders.]
I wanna go back.
1/3
[ She stands then, pushing the empty glass to the barkeep before, with the same momentum, the woman reaches to touch hurricane's face - the last thing he'll see are her perfectly manicured sinew-and-muscle patterned nails - ]
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falling
You land, somewhere familiar. The light from the hole you fell through disappears, leaving you in ambient darkness. There's no way to climb back up - but you think there must be. Surely, there must be. You just need to find the wall, because there was definitely one because that was the hole you fell through - and if not that, then there must be a wall that leads you somewhere else, something that gives you purchase. Surely there's one somewhere, so you start walking - you call out for someone, anyone. Anyone at all.
There's no one here. You've walked and walked and walked but there's no one here, and you're not any farther out than you were before. The scenery hasn't changed - only you have, from your attempts to leave - you screamed, you cried, you banged against the glass, you tried everything, you killed yourself, you killed yourself, you killed yourself, you killed yourself -
But nothing worked.
You're still here.
And you're still walking. ]
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He is in his room, in Heart Soldier Senshi. It is Day 79, morning.
The price to pay was this: his heart will never beat again.
Temperature difference et al are cosmetic differences - he will still die if he bleeds out - and are player choice in the degree, though he's probably still going to be like. . . at least a LITTLE cold to the touch regardless. ]
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[Oh Jesus Christ, finally.]
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