living breathing statistical impossibility (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hamiltonian) wrote2015-01-31 02:41 pm
hamiltonian) wrote2015-01-31 02:41 pm
(no subject)
HAZEL
When you awake, the world is...muffled, somehow. Although you can see and hear quite clearly, there's a feeling that other sense have simply been turned off. It's incredibly uncomfortable, but other pressing matters quickly crowd it out.
The room is dark and unfamiliar, lit only by the flickering glow of eerie candles set in a neat circle around you. It isn't street you remember being accosted on, nor is it the hospital you'd hoped for, and your inability to make sense of you location has you panicking before the woman looming above you curses softly and makes her presence known.
She's as unfamiliar as the room she inhabits, tall and put together with a calculated elegance. There's something about the way the woman holds herself that gives the impression that beneath all that polish lies something quite ugly. The faint look of disdain on her face now doesn't help.
You try to ask something, anything about the situation, but your throat is dry (from disuse? it could only have been a few hours since you blacked out...) and nothing but a rasping noise emerges. Failing that, you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at things - and that's when you really see your own body.
You're completely unclothed, but the nudity manages to take a backseat to the horrifying state it reveals. Runes dance across limbs and joints, some still glowing with whatever latent power they hold. Everywhere you look, from your legs to your collarbones, the flesh is covered in thick black stitches. They cover the place on your abdomen that you recall the knife biting into (the place that no longer aches in the least) but there's no explanation for the rest. Especially alarming is the ugly Y-shaped scar that consumes your entire chest, impossible to miss and gaping as if you'd been cut open to -
A hand flies instinctively to your heart, rests for several tense moments. Nothing beats back in answer, and that is when you find your voice and begin to scream.
"What did you do, what did you do-"
You scramble to your feet, upsetting huge swathes of the candles around you with your panicked movements. The molten wax overflows onto your bare flesh, your hands slam into open flames, and not a single iota of pain reverberates through your body. The utter lack of a reaction only fuels your terror, and your cries become louder and more insistent as continued movement reveals just how foreign your own body feels now. Wherever this is, you need to get out now.
"That is quite enough."
The words cut through the air like a scalpel, but you don't have time to really understand them; they're accompanied by the most excruciating pain you've ever felt in your life, something which twists and claws down deep past your bones. It's as if something is attempting to rip your soul itself from you, pulling your awareness between worlds in a manner that can't possibly continue without destroying you.
The breath flies out and you and you hit the ground once more, eyes screwed shut as you struggle to even think past the pain. It subsides almost as quickly as it came, leaving nothing but the soft click of heels as the woman leisurely makes her way to stand in front of you.
"Do you understand now?" Her voice is soft, but there's no comfort in it. "I may have made a mistake, but there's still a use for you. If you want to avoid far worse than that, you'll listen."
It's as if she's addressing a malfunctioning appliance in a fit of pique rather than bargaining with a person. You look up, finally meeting her gaze, and the sense of foreboding that had been swirling around you since your awakening finally settles heavily on your shoulders as the memory fades to an end.
JONATHAN
Roughly 6:00-14:11 here because YouTube is apparently allergic to non-Caesar Zeppeli deaths, thanks a lot.
Along with the expected sorrow, there's a great deal of guilt associated with the memory - Jonathan feels that he caused Zeppeli's death through his weakness, and is upset at how helpless he was to help him. There's also the feeling that the pain felt from Zeppeli's passing is especially sharp because of how recently it happened after Jonathan had lost his real father, and how similarly helpless he was in that situation.
When you awake, the world is...muffled, somehow. Although you can see and hear quite clearly, there's a feeling that other sense have simply been turned off. It's incredibly uncomfortable, but other pressing matters quickly crowd it out.
The room is dark and unfamiliar, lit only by the flickering glow of eerie candles set in a neat circle around you. It isn't street you remember being accosted on, nor is it the hospital you'd hoped for, and your inability to make sense of you location has you panicking before the woman looming above you curses softly and makes her presence known.
She's as unfamiliar as the room she inhabits, tall and put together with a calculated elegance. There's something about the way the woman holds herself that gives the impression that beneath all that polish lies something quite ugly. The faint look of disdain on her face now doesn't help.
You try to ask something, anything about the situation, but your throat is dry (from disuse? it could only have been a few hours since you blacked out...) and nothing but a rasping noise emerges. Failing that, you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at things - and that's when you really see your own body.
You're completely unclothed, but the nudity manages to take a backseat to the horrifying state it reveals. Runes dance across limbs and joints, some still glowing with whatever latent power they hold. Everywhere you look, from your legs to your collarbones, the flesh is covered in thick black stitches. They cover the place on your abdomen that you recall the knife biting into (the place that no longer aches in the least) but there's no explanation for the rest. Especially alarming is the ugly Y-shaped scar that consumes your entire chest, impossible to miss and gaping as if you'd been cut open to -
A hand flies instinctively to your heart, rests for several tense moments. Nothing beats back in answer, and that is when you find your voice and begin to scream.
"What did you do, what did you do-"
You scramble to your feet, upsetting huge swathes of the candles around you with your panicked movements. The molten wax overflows onto your bare flesh, your hands slam into open flames, and not a single iota of pain reverberates through your body. The utter lack of a reaction only fuels your terror, and your cries become louder and more insistent as continued movement reveals just how foreign your own body feels now. Wherever this is, you need to get out now.
"That is quite enough."
The words cut through the air like a scalpel, but you don't have time to really understand them; they're accompanied by the most excruciating pain you've ever felt in your life, something which twists and claws down deep past your bones. It's as if something is attempting to rip your soul itself from you, pulling your awareness between worlds in a manner that can't possibly continue without destroying you.
The breath flies out and you and you hit the ground once more, eyes screwed shut as you struggle to even think past the pain. It subsides almost as quickly as it came, leaving nothing but the soft click of heels as the woman leisurely makes her way to stand in front of you.
"Do you understand now?" Her voice is soft, but there's no comfort in it. "I may have made a mistake, but there's still a use for you. If you want to avoid far worse than that, you'll listen."
It's as if she's addressing a malfunctioning appliance in a fit of pique rather than bargaining with a person. You look up, finally meeting her gaze, and the sense of foreboding that had been swirling around you since your awakening finally settles heavily on your shoulders as the memory fades to an end.
JONATHAN
Roughly 6:00-14:11 here because YouTube is apparently allergic to non-Caesar Zeppeli deaths, thanks a lot.
Along with the expected sorrow, there's a great deal of guilt associated with the memory - Jonathan feels that he caused Zeppeli's death through his weakness, and is upset at how helpless he was to help him. There's also the feeling that the pain felt from Zeppeli's passing is especially sharp because of how recently it happened after Jonathan had lost his real father, and how similarly helpless he was in that situation.