This blog will certainly be canon divergent! We play in the field of HUGE uncertainty with John, given the rework of his milestones and more! Even if canon changes, unless it's big enough on a rework to make this entirely defunct, I'll be sticking to my guns here.
John is very much still a killer, as such, it might be a bit harder to interact with him! Don't worry. Workarounds exist :)
THIS BLOG WILL CONTAIN HEAVIER TOPICS, AS PER THE NATURE OF FORSAKEN. THIS BLOG WILL CONTAIN GORE, MILD BODY HORROR, POTENTIAL SH IDEALIZATION, OR HEAVIER. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
This blog is run by a fictive! IC actions are EXTREMELY removed from System ones. Do not by any means count this as one in the same, it isn't!
Magic!Anons welcomed! Curiosity as well! Anons will have a MUCH easier time interacting here, though who knows. Maybe that'll change in time. Though that is quite the long shot...
I can't promise you he won't bite, but the ask box is always open! Come in, say hi, strike up a roleplay!
General rules
Nothing nsfw! Flirting is fine, but keep things more friendly-leaning.
Don’t vent in the inbox. It will be deleted without hesitation.
I write my muse! Not you! Do not describe my actions for me!
Please feel free to tag us in things! Starters, art, you name it.
This blog is very loudly OC and crossover friendly. Please feel free to bash into DMs and asks with your characters and ideas. Come say hello. Please please pl-
Divider by @creativeinnovations just for this blog! It is not free for use!
Bonus + useful things under the cut
Tagging system
Pointless words | OOC
Smothering swathes of grey | Anon
Shockingly coherent | Ask reply
They're all yours | Open Starter
A Faded Locket | ??
This... Isn't anything. | Lore Scraps
Go on. Say it. | Self-contained writing
Killer tags
Survivor tags
the bigger they are the harder they fall | Phos
Extra tags
Smothering Names‚ Annoyance Personified | SNAP anon
Extras to note
John is much more coherent outside of rounds. Getting a full conversation out of him in them is VERY difficult, but not impossible.
This man growls. A lot.
John is very tall - 7'8. A solid foot and a half of that is because of his corruption.
He's prone to losing his train of thought easily, thanks to said corruption. Even his own trains of thought. He can find them again, though... It might take a moment. Depending on how this blog goes, this will change! For better, or for worse!
John is liable to kill anons. Feel free to carry on bothering him even if he does take a stab. Anons don't... Necessarily play by our rules.
John is… A mix bag of a man. From hostile to friendly, and all sorts of places in between. His lucidity changes a LOT from moment to moment.
There is now a post that explains how John works from an external point! This post explains how he is handled from a writing and mechanical point, for those that are interested.
You might have noticed that sometimes, John’s text is a different colour. There’s a reason for it:) (does not elaborate on purpose)
The sun is high in the sky, clouds drift lazily in small clusters. Cherry blossoms flutter from nearby trees, falling over neatly arranged chairs, waiting to be filled. He shifts, going through papers with a shorter man.
“Are you sure-“
“Yes, ‘m sure. Promise. ‘S all gonna be fine, John. Relax, enjoy your day.”
He sighs, dragging a hand over his head, running his fingers through short, well-kept fluff. Right. A day to enjoy.
——————
Seats, full of familiar faces. One empty chair at the front with a fancy little sign that simply reads “Dad, in spirit.” in cursive, with a single pink rose on the seat.
He fixes his tie as music begins. Eyes lift towards the door, where ████ stands, walking down the aisle. ██████████ walks with ███, in place of a parent. It does little to diminish the moment. He still tears up in joy seeing ███ walking down the aisle.
—————
Blackened claws wrap around a chain on his neck. John growls quietly to himself. What was he thinking about? He doesn’t… Remember. Pink. Pink and gold. He tugs at the chain, trying to snap it. It doesn’t break. It hasn’t broken any other time he’s tried. It’s such a small thing. Such a tiny, fragile thing. The locket on it even more so. And yet, even still. It remains.
What would it be like if you lost one of your crucial senses? If you were to suddenly go blind or deaf, or be incapable of even a growl the next chance you had to talk to someone?
John regards you for a moment, and laughs.
“I don’t need to speak, or growl. I could go blind or deaf without concern. I know the areas of this accursed place better than anyone ever should.”
He chuckles, looking his claws over casually, shaking… Who knows what off of them, unnervingly confident.
Are milestones a thing for John? Do they mean anything?
//PULLING BACK THE CURTAIN HERE BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN DYING FOR A CHANCE TO TALK ABOUT THIS
// I PHYSICALLY CANNOT EXPLAIN THIS IN CHARACTER!! YES!! YES THEY DO!!
// John’s present state is. Well. Bad. With today/yesterday’s release of the new Mastery skins, they actually line up goddamn perfectly with the personal lore of the blog! Though I’ll be sticking to the look I designed for him overall in clothing, the way they’ve taken him lines up… Eerily well with what I’ve got. I plan to ramble, so to save people’s scrolling, anything more is below this handy little cut
SO YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THE MILESTONES
to do that, first I need to talk a little about his corruption, and the whole internal system I have running with the blog!
John presently exists in a state of corruption somewhere between baseline John Doe, and Mastery 1. This is his “starting point” so to speak.
If you’ve poked through the blog, you may have noticed that at times, John seems to be much more coherent than others. Or he seems to pull a total 180 that feels wholly, uncannily unprompted. This is intentional! John… Isn’t just John. It’s the corruption, too.
John on his own is… Just a man. Thats being toyed with and used by the Spectre. A man that so happened to be hit by a malicious bit of code that warped and changed. Becoming more. And that something more is where we are now, with all forces in play
Every thread reply, every time he speaks or reacts to anons, every time someone strikes a chord on a certain topic, I roll a D20, D&D style. Depending on what prompted the roll, the DC, or difficulty check is higher, and sometimes, done at (dis)advantage, wherein two die are rolled and the lower(dis) or higher(advantage) result is taken.
I’m not about to tell you the scale of what prompts what, that’s my little joy to keep secret. But you’re seen what a critical failure of that one little topic looks like already.
Depending on how many checks John makes and fails, his state may worsen, and in multiple ways.
At the moment, John is holding off the corruption decently well! It hasn’t progressed enough to warrant a change in description, nothing major. If people prod enough, though, and if he does poorly enough… He might start to lose those checks. Not giving in to it, per se, but it may start to spread more. Especially if a certain something decides it’s bored with him in this state, and wants more fun.
If he succeeds enough checks, it… Won’t recede. But he’ll be able to be a little clearer. A little more put-together mentally, to a certain point, at least. People could also help nudge towards that, if they so desire.
Maybe you’d even get a kick out of helping him regain himself some, only to turn and make him so much worse? Who am I to judge your motives, after all?
Now, you may have noticed I made somewhat of a distinction in the corruption progressing and him giving in.
Because, well… There is a difference to be had. One where he goes down kicking and screaming, fighting to hold onto any of his sanity and humanity, against all odds…
And one where he gives up. Where he lets the corruption take him, and use him as its plaything. As a pawn.
That is what the mastery skins are akin to. How far gone he is. How much the corruption has claimed of him. Because eventually, if he gives in, or if it just takes too much of him to stop him in the fight back by force, he’ll be gone.
How long that takes? If it happens at all?
That’s in the writing, your asks, magic!anons, and the rolls of the dice.
You control what kind of tragedy I’ll be writing. :)
John growls, and takes a swipe at you. His claws connect with nothing, which earns a scowl, and another useless swipe that only serves to piss him off more.
𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 : what memory burns the brightest in your muse’s mind, the one they revisit even when it hurts?
𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 : what secret emotion does your muse hide beneath their surface, flowing quietly but powerfully?
𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 : what grounding memory keeps your muse steady when the world feels unstable?
𝐚𝐢𝐫 : what fleeting thought or fleeting secret drifts through your muse’s mind, always just out of reach?
𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : what sudden revelation has shocked your muse into seeing themselves differently?
𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 : what shadowed memory lingers like a haze, blurring lines between truth and imagination?
𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 : what secret strength does your muse keep hidden from everyone, even themselves at times?
𝐢𝐜𝐞 : what cold memory does your muse return to when they need to distance themselves from pain?
𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 : what forgotten dream or secret hope still guides your muse silently in the dark?
𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 : what hidden side of your muse only comes out at night, when no one else can see?
𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 : what loud, undeniable truth does your muse struggle to admit aloud?
𝐬𝐨𝐢𝐥 : what buried memory has shaped your muse without their conscious awareness?
𝐟𝐨𝐠 : what uncertainty or confusion does your muse carry, never fully able to untangle?
𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 : what loss or emptiness echoes quietly inside your muse, even when they smile?
𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝 : what moments slip through your muse’s fingers, leaving them yearning or regretful?
𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 : what secret haven exists in your muse’s mind, a place only they know?
𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨 : what suppressed anger or passion simmers just beneath your muse’s calm exterior?
𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 : what memory flows through your muse’s life like a winding path, shaping who they are?
𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 : what hidden fears come alive in your muse’s quietest, loneliest hours?
𝐬𝐮𝐧 : what warm, cherished memory illuminates your muse’s spirit and gives them hope?
> [ The crunch of leaves underfoot, unbalanced steps, and quiet personal musings fill the otherwise silent air. A walk is good, especially if he wants to get used to this whole one arm thing. At least it had been pretty uneventful, stars know he needs it. ]
@wires-for-veins UM EHEEM HII HI))
A quiet night… A hard thing to come by here. Especially with the hell of rounds. For once, even John was off for a walk of his own, pleased in even a sliver of false freedom. He sees movement, and immediately he drops from ‘fully lost in thought’ to ‘I need to keep a very close eye on what’s going on’. He moves deliberately, watching from afar. His growling breaths are quiet, but still carry some on the wind, if one listens close enough.
After a few minutes of this, he makes himself known, purposefully crushing a few stray twigs beneath his feet as he walks into view, almost unnervingly nonhostile.
“N̷o̷w̶ what d̸o̵ ̴w̴e̵ ̷h̵a̴v̸e̸ ̵h̴e̸r̸e̴…̵?̶”
He asks, voice low. It sounds genuine, but also borders on being a threat.
> [ Oh he startles, and harshly. He didn't hear anything that would suggest another's presence. Was he, getting too relaxed around here? okay not what he should be focusing on. ]
> [ He's quick to take a few steps back, distance is your best friend when running is your only option. ]
> [ . . . But he didn't , strike. He wouldn't have met half the people he knows I'd he turned and ran at every confrontation. Maybe this was like Ettore or the Parasite, maybe he just seems scary. He keeps the distance , but decides to test the waters. ]
uh, . ? hello ? sorry I didn't ,. uh . mean to disturb you, , ooh stars
John’s gaze drifts over the other, sizing him up. He hadn’t faced this one in a round- or maybe he had, and he simply hadn’t noticed? That was entirely plausible, given…
He tilts his head to the side, watching for his reaction to him. The more he stares at Apollo, the more interesting he looks. Was it a parasite? Symbiotic, perhaps? It almost reminded him of his own. That alone is cause for a proper pause, not that it’s obvious that’s the case.
> [ He shrinks under the other's gaze, that awful itching watching feeling. He self-consciously fidgets with the vines that fell naturally by his wrist. ]
> [ He tilts his head a bit as well, sort of unconsciously mimicking the other . Bit of a bad habit. ]
I, . Ah, yeah . but, if I can find something out here that's , helpful ,? then its , worth it , I think ,. uh
> [ Attention wandering, he finds himself wondering about the other's state. It, doesn't look , comfortable ? ]
Oh, this one is skittish. John smirks, taking a half step towards it, just to see what it would do. When he speaks again, his voice is surprisingly clear, though his tone is no warmer.
“What a Self-sacrificial set of beliefs…”
He chuckles quietly, tilting his head to the other side, still studying him.
“If the Spectre wasn’t keeping you all alive, you’d be dead a long time ago, wouldn’t you?”
He falters. Visibly falters. He leans his weight into his arm, much like he had while talking with Chance. And he stares. Not that Apollo would know, but he’s more or less arguing with himself internally. His claws flex a few times, as he settles and refocuses.
Question. Asked a question. He should reply to it. Verbally. He growls quietly, shaking his head.
“… It does. Ḯ̵̺m̷̱̓m̶͎̄ḛ̸̆n̷̥̆s̷̺͠e̷̥̔l̷͚͋y̷̖͐,̷̯͂ ̸͕̅e̶̘̓v̸̪̕e̷̗͌n̵̡͘.̴͓̃ But that is my burden to c̸a̵r̶r̷y̴. Why do y̴o̵u̷ ̶c̸a̶r̸e̶?̸”
> [ wearily, he eyes the other's movements , pretty much immediately regretting the accidental question. He already has apologies bubbling in his throat when the other . . answers . ]
> [ His posture shifts, a change in motive. He takes a step forward this time. ]
, ! Hurts. Okay, okay . Hurts how , I have bandages and , things for external injuries but this doesnt ., , treat is like a burn maybe ,.?
> [ He's , started mumbling to himself now, searching through the bag on his side. ]
I , might have old painkillers ,? but I don't, know how well that'd ,help ,
John stares at him, good eye widening. This is… Odd. He goes to take another step forward, but he’s planted himself into the ground, so he stops. Right, yes. He was smart enough to catch himself. Good.
“… It won’t help.”
What? Flat and simple as that?
“Corruption of one’s code is not cut and dry. Y̶̦̐ở̸̬̻̪̠̾͑u̸̗̬͍̎ ̴̪̈̈̈c̴̭̲̲͒̂͋a̸̺̲̜͑̎̈́n̸͕̘͂̅̏̈́’̵̹̤̿͊t̷̻̹͛̄̑ ̸̩̲̑h̴͑͜e̶͔͂͆͘̕͜l̵̝̹̲̒̌̕͘p̴̨̺̟̌̄̕ ̴̘͈̱̎m̵̤͔̽̽͗ẽ̸͎̲̓̀.̵̨̇̓̈͂”
His tone is flat, tired even. But also faintly hostile. Whatever Apollo’s trying, it seems it’s either unwelcomed, or unwanted. Or wanted, but desperately, desperately being shoved away. For his sake.
> [ He, doesn't approach further. He overstepped, clearly. That's on him. He holds his only hand up in a surrender, but . it doesn't feel right , to not do anything at all. It feels like he's failing in some way. ]
sorry !, sorry I didn't , .
> [ Even, with the vines though, there are ways to make it a little easier. It's, not ideal, but it's something. ]
What is wrong with him? He should be leaving. Running away. Fearful. One of these seems true, at least. Does he need to attack Apollo for him to get the message?
He’s baffled. Truly surprised. John has never shown any of these people kindness. The concept of it was strange, difficult to offer, and even harder to give continuously. This alone is taking a fair amount of effort to maintain.
Still, he leans forward, mindful of the fact his arm is still in the ground. His voice lowers some.
“A̶l̴l̶ ̵I̷’̶v̷e̵ ̶d̵o̸n̴e̵ ̶i̸s̸ ̶k̸i̴l̶l̴ ̶a̸l̸l̵ ̸o̴f̶ ̴y̵o̷u̶,̷ ̶y̸o̶u̶ ̶k̴n̶o̴w̷.̸ What about that says that’s a good idea?”
While somewhat a threat, it’s also a genuine question.
John clenches his fist, letting the tips of his claws press into his palm, just barely shy of drawing blood. He tilts his head the other way, trying, perhaps impossibly, to follow Apollo's train of thought.
"... You're quite lucky I'm not. It's taking a very, v̷e̶r̸y̵ large amount of restraint to simply talk to you."
... Why is he explaining himself to him? He doesn't have to. There's no reason whatsoever for him to be explaining himself. He SHOULD just attack Apollo.
So why hasn't he? What little sliver of a hold on himself is demanding he stop?
"I'm a lost cause, to the lot of you. It's not safe, to be around me. I could hurt you at the drop of a hat."
Again, he falters. Something soft in him tugs backwards, and that fuzzy, all consuming sensation tugs him forward at the same time. He growls quietly- though clearly not at Apollo.
“Do you hold no value in yourself?”
He asks, tone almost taking a cruel inflection to it, but the expression that tugs at his face for the briefest of moments says it’s not intended.
“Self-sacrificial fool you are. It really makes one Ẅ̴̮́o̷̼̾n̴̤͝d̵̬̄ĕ̶̳r̷̙̄.”
He chuckles softly, it’s a surprisingly harsh noise from the man, considering he’s been so pointedly trying to keep himself in check. Seems he’s losing that hold on himself, at least to an extent.
(Every day I explode a little more. I’ll be slowly handing off some tiny tidbits of lore through the week, in an attempt to remind myself to check things more as my notifs for this blog seem broken. Please, feel free to toss out some asks!)
Just another round... Shaking out their hands and feet, they braced themselves for another round of this. The words of two people fresh in their mind, it's time to try something new. Well, that's not quite right. They've already jumped through all the necessary hoops to justify this to themselves, this is an investigative round. The only goal is to find out if this will even work, much more if it's even worth it. If they can handle it.
Once she knows that countdown is running, she's off and looking around. Find out who they're up against, any means necessary. The familiar growling is a good sign, followed by spikes erupting from the ground. Maybe the latter is less of a good sign. But she knows John, or hopefully enough to make some educated guesses.
He is, luckily, easy enough for them to predict. At least until he learns better- It's not difficult for them to pull his attention off some other poor survivor. Then it's just a game of keeping up with the chase...
Namely, stamina. They're fantastic at pacing themselves, but he's typically rather relentless unless an easier target presents itself. Trying to keep his attention on purpose on top of that? A perfect recipe for disaster, as they slam their shoulder into a corner, the momentum turning them to face him head on!-
???
A gunshot from nowhere. The unmistakable sound of a sword connecting with it's target. Maybe it was right, these people would protect her when needed. For now they've got bigger problems to deal with, hurrying off to look for a method to get themselves patched up. He won't give up on coming after her for long, and she knows it.
@phos-saken (hope you wanted to FUCKING READ.)
A fun round, this one was. Plenty of resistance to push through. The familiar hum and ding of his abilities, the reveal of where people were… That new face. No one else was that tall. Had such a distinct look. And no one else on this particular team was quite so fresh. Easy pickings?
The hunt was on.
John roars as he’s stunned, and hit once more, seemingly for good measure. But it doesn’t matter. There’s someone that is far more interesting to take after. With a burst of speed, he’s off after her without faltering. Those pesky sentinels couldn’t get in the way on the other side of the arena.
Well, she has what she wants. John’s undivided attention, as he charges after her, rather consistently barely missing his swings. He growls at her as he misses another swing, mad enough to drop the chase to slam his arm into the ground, aiming to hit her with a wall of familiar spikes.
Whatever they’re planning, this better be worth it.
(cut from here)
Now that's a bad sign! They were just talking, he seemed fine enough. What the hell just happened? Maybe if she'd been able to speak with him before now, she'd have a better read on what's going through his head.
As if. That was never going to be an opportunity, and they've been improvising this entire time.
Shifting how they're sitting with a matching scowl, his rather violent reaction is a good reminder of their roles here. If he's threatening to snap, they need to be ready for that to happen. But they're nothing if not patient. His words seem to physically hurt their ears, and they can barely make out anything he's saying. They're listening nonetheless.
"Are you done?"
Patient in practice, maybe. With a dramatic huff, she pops her neck again. Ever ready... "Because I think I get the gist." Keeping careful watch of both of his arms, she needs to figure out some way to keep this civil. Not that she's ever been good at calming others down. "What I do with my own time is my goddamn business, whether you think It's pointless or not. I didn't ask your opinion on it."
"Loud and clear, I mean exactly what I say. You are not the worst I've seen." Slowly but surely, each fin begins to glow. Starting close to the skin, spreading outwards... She doesn't seem to notice. "You don't need to do anything. Fall into that influence entirely for all I care. But if, and I mean fucking if there is a way out for everyone?"
"You're coming with us. Willingly or otherwise."
He growls his response, clearly struggling to compose himself. Of course. Now. He only begged to have the chain snap. Of course it would actually do so now, when he wanted instead to explain. To talk and understand and be understood.
Like someone turned off a light, the intelligence behind his eyes almost vanishes entirely. Almost. With a sharp growl, he lunges at Phos, permanent grin practically snapping back into place as he does, claws aimed for their chest.
He did try to hold himself back. Truly, he did. But he was bound to lose eventually.
He can’t pull himself away. Can’t back down from the lunge. The man that they were just talking to is gone. For now, at least. Looks like that window of opportunity closed.
Squinting at his face as though that's going to make her hear his words better, the clown of a fish does catch the word 'warn' somewhere in there. Perhaps thankfully for them both, that's enough to set off all kinds of alarm bells. Can't blame her, really- It isn't as though she's used to a heads up over blatant threats or mocking.
Already lifting themselves off the ground when it all finally processes, they practically leap out of his way. Nearly slamming their back into the building beside them, but that would obviously never happen to them. "Alright." They pant, backing away from him. Back towards the cliff edge is a bad idea if he's got any memory of this whole encounter...
There's nowhere else to go.
With this ample warning time, they could absolutely outrun him. But not forever. Never forever. Still no timer, no other survivors, no obvious way out. Unless this counts as the circumstances changing? Of course they had to go and jinx it, so much as thinking their conversation couldn't last forever. They should've known better than to even dare to broach the topic of time. Running for their life still seems like a good choice, for the time being.
Phos considers herself to be a very logical person. She isn't. Yet in her mind, if them conversing was their only reason for being here... Well, it would line up that this little aside should be over, she just needs a way out. Scientific method, if something changes, so do the results!
Her stomach bubbles in visceral discomfort with each footfall. And there's this unnatural, pounding headache. It isn't exactly like John is known for being merciful or quick about these kinds of things.
... Unless he's particularly pissed off. They had several rounds and a bonus death that taught them exactly how to do just that. "Alright!" Calling out behind them, knowing he couldn't be far. "Not personal, swear it." Taking the corner into the abandoned building tightly, he's a fair bit shorter than them. They're no sentinel, but if they can catch him off guard and punch down... Learn from example, eh?
It’s them moving out of the way that gets him going. He lets out an outraged roar as they take off. The time it takes him to stand buys them a few moments of freedom to move. He watches them go, and veers sharply away from their tail.
He’s not falling for it twice. Once he’s content, he slams his corrupted arm into the ground. If the resulting wall doesn’t clip her, it’ll block off one of her exits. Aiming directly for the corner next to the door she entered, the spikes charge forth.
While they might have learned something last time, so did he. And he’s not letting them do it again. So he’s not going to get so much as close to them, opting to choke them out one way or the other.
The lights weren’t off up there. Just dimmed, but still bright enough to be brutally sharp.
Time well spent! While attempting to catch their breath, the telltale sound of "Jesus fucking Christ that's twenty-something spikes shooting out of the ground" keeps them on their feet. Ears flicking as they bounce in place, their only way of telling where it's coming from is by sound. Not trying to repeat the very start of this foolish endeavor and get slashed again!
With the position she put herself in, she winds up having to full-body dive out of the way as the wall slices upwards and destroys her only plan. Rolling back onto her feet, she practically climbs the side of the stairs to get up them faster. Any time she's not moving is time he's getting closer to her, and now those steps are her only way out.
Okay!!! Okay. Adaptability is the name of the game! Luckily that's a skill they're exceptionally practiced in, unluckily they're as out of options as when they started. All they have to do is hit him once or twice, just die and get this over with... Jumping down from the shoddy 'balcony' would only extend the chase, though.
...
Carefully positioning themselves at the top of the stairs, they carefully half-coil their tail and brace it against the wall. One heel where the same wall meets the floor, the other foot keeping them balanced... He has no other option but to follow them up, right? Good a choke point as any.
John slows as she nears the building, making sure to count things out, it seems. He growls quietly, and keeps watch for a few moments. When he can, he wastes no time in positioning himself at the open door. He drops a footprint, then steps back, shoving his arm into the ground as he rather meticulously ensures the resulting wall of spikes would catch Phos entirely in a corral, if she jumped down.
There's a tinge of regret in his mind, one that is very swiftly shaken off as he growls again, reason overcome by... Whatever one might call this. Instinct, perhaps, but that's still not right, according to something still lingering in the back of his mind. With another beat of hesitation, of pushing back against himself, he's off up the stairs after them.
Claws forward, he lunges. He’s half expecting to be slammed into, or swung at, or punched, or shot. So he braces for the worst, still trying to swing for her as he goes, hoping maybe, just maybe, his claws will connect before whatever she has planned.
Listening to his footsteps as he moves about, they readjust their position. Balancing on one foot above a full staircase would make anyone nervous! Though, perhaps the unrest comes from what they're planning. Spikes tear through the ground nearby and they shuffle a little more. It's not like they plan on running much longer, but helpful to take note of.
And finally, the star of the hour! Growing swiftly closer to them as he ascends the stairs, then ever closer...
Even as he lunges for her, she doesn't move. Those claws connect, and she grabs for his wrist, or forearm, or whatever she can dig her own claws into. Her other arm floundering for what's left of his shoulder around that spike, rapidly attaching herself to whatever parts of him she can grab as she lifts her foot off the ground, planting both against the wall.
With both legs and tail, she springboards off the wall, still attempting to dig into and cling on whatever she can get at. With any luck she slams into his chest, and both of them go flying down the stairs at top speed. She's no sentinel, but a good fall... It might be enough to kill them both. There's no frame of reference for how much of a hit John can take before dying though, so she's finding out the worst way.
There’s a moment of pure, unfiltered panic in him as he process what she’s doing. She’s taking him down with her. A sane man might try to break apart from her. At the moment, John is not a sane man. But everything in him wants to live. He struggles, trying to do something- anything to ensure he doesn’t hit something vital on the way down.
With any other survivor, this wouldn’t have happened. No one else is big enough to overpower him. But they are, apparently. And it lights some sort of fire in him. He shoves his claws into her more as they tumble, trying to use the fact they’re heavier than him to his advantage, growling directly into their face.
There’s a moment where something in his mind shrieks bite them! But he refrains. It’s not going to help. He struggles, but luck isn’t on his side. Pointedly not, in fact.
Slamming into the stairs again, his vision blurs. The weight of a whole person enough to really, truly hurt his exposed spine on the way down. He howls in pain, and tries to stop things, but it’s no use.
Pain shoots through them- From where he's stabbing into them, them clutching at his corrupted arm, of course launching two people off of a single wall, and most predictably, however many impacts there really were. It was a blur of sharp pain and overwhelming sound, above it all the dread that this really isn't the best way to go.
As if their momentum had carried post mortem, Phosphate is thrown onto her stomach. Sharp grass and gravel dig into her arms as she skids, only stopping when her frantic hands find wood. Everything still hurt; Her now scratched to hell hands and arms, the feeling of being stabbed by something frantic, the almost indescribable sensation in one palm and that raging headache.
But lifting their head, they see forest. Dark skies, gravel paths, and cabins. Their chuckle comes out more as a strained cough as they rest their forehead on the ground.
"How's that for interesting..."
The sudden motion of another person catches ████ off guard, ███ practically jumps to ███ feet, spinning on ███ heel to look at what had happened. ███ walks over, and crouches down next to them.
“You… Alright? Need or want a hand up?”
███ voice is gentle, if measured. Almost as if worried ███ might upset her by even asking.
"Innaminutemaybe." She wheezes, finally just coughing onto the ground. Something still feels like it's attempting to stab through her ribs. She shifts her weight to the side and digs around with one hand- Rock. Relaxing back down... Nope, still feels like being skewered. Okay.
"I don't think," They cough again, finally lifting their eyes to ███ when it stops. "The panic has set in yet. It's supposed to. We should be terrified. Might've gotten stuck in traffic."
That earns a soft laugh, an almost musical noise that seems out of place in a hellhole like this one. ███ nods, though, and smiles faintly, though ███ gaze is hidden ██ ███ ██████ ██ ███ ███. ████ shifts back a small ways, and sits cross-legged on the pier. ███ fidgets with ███ ███, messing with the ████ of it in an attempt to keep ███ mind from wandering.
"No luck in making it out of that one alive, I take it?"
███ asks, voice still measured. Then it clicks. WE should be terrified. Did they mean the group?
"Or- Wait, terrified over what this time?"
This time. ███ hates that it's this time. Because they can never have a fucking break here, can they?
"Haaaaahhhh no. Rusty silver lining, he didn't either!" Their fingers find gaps in the gravel and dig into the earth. If they don't need help stumbling to their feet, they'll avoid it. "Uh, John, so the usual." Grunting as they pull themselves to their knees, it'll do for the moment.
"I need to talk to Builderman- After that I don't know. It won't be my problem to tell anyone else what happened, he's the only person I figure needs to know." Breathing heavily, she sniffs as she attempts to move off of her knees. The phantom smell of blood moves through her senses. "Being indirect on purpose."
John? ███ gaze snaps over, very clear despite everything. ███ gaze is entirely focused on Phos, and ███ smile drops to a small, deeply pained ghost of a frown. When ███ speaks, ███ voice isn't measured. But it is... Fearful? Worried? Both?
"... What did you learn about him? Builderman.. Should know. But I..."
███ takes a breath, as if trying to steady ███self. What about him could have ███ so worried?
"If you're not willing to share, I'll.. Go find him later, but..."
████ trails off, hands shaky as ███ shifts. ███ voice is barely audible when ███ speaks again
As shocking at it was for ███ to hear, they don't seem to have noticed ███ reaction. They do notice ███ tone, but they're trying to get to their feet first. "Plenty of things I'm sure, it was a long conversation." A low wheeze as they suck in air, they manage to get to one foot. Just sitting there propped up on one knee now, but they quickly boost themselves to their feet.
It is not steady.
Standing there as if precariously balanced, she gives herself a moment for once. Hands buried in her pockets without a second thought. "Had a conversation, for one. Him being conscious is new- I'm hoping as few people as possible will find out."
But she heard ███, and that tone, and ███ slight weirdness from earlier. This place is an ever-interconnected web of external relationships, give or take an exception. She doesn't have to recognize ███ to know there's something going on there. "It's fine, he makes himself easy to find. Real question is where I'm going to find enough time to fill him in."
Just another round... Shaking out their hands and feet, they braced themselves for another round of this. The words of two people fresh in their mind, it's time to try something new. Well, that's not quite right. They've already jumped through all the necessary hoops to justify this to themselves, this is an investigative round. The only goal is to find out if this will even work, much more if it's even worth it. If they can handle it.
Once she knows that countdown is running, she's off and looking around. Find out who they're up against, any means necessary. The familiar growling is a good sign, followed by spikes erupting from the ground. Maybe the latter is less of a good sign. But she knows John, or hopefully enough to make some educated guesses.
He is, luckily, easy enough for them to predict. At least until he learns better- It's not difficult for them to pull his attention off some other poor survivor. Then it's just a game of keeping up with the chase...
Namely, stamina. They're fantastic at pacing themselves, but he's typically rather relentless unless an easier target presents itself. Trying to keep his attention on purpose on top of that? A perfect recipe for disaster, as they slam their shoulder into a corner, the momentum turning them to face him head on!-
???
A gunshot from nowhere. The unmistakable sound of a sword connecting with it's target. Maybe it was right, these people would protect her when needed. For now they've got bigger problems to deal with, hurrying off to look for a method to get themselves patched up. He won't give up on coming after her for long, and she knows it.
@phos-saken (hope you wanted to FUCKING READ.)
A fun round, this one was. Plenty of resistance to push through. The familiar hum and ding of his abilities, the reveal of where people were… That new face. No one else was that tall. Had such a distinct look. And no one else on this particular team was quite so fresh. Easy pickings?
The hunt was on.
John roars as he’s stunned, and hit once more, seemingly for good measure. But it doesn’t matter. There’s someone that is far more interesting to take after. With a burst of speed, he’s off after her without faltering. Those pesky sentinels couldn’t get in the way on the other side of the arena.
Well, she has what she wants. John’s undivided attention, as he charges after her, rather consistently barely missing his swings. He growls at her as he misses another swing, mad enough to drop the chase to slam his arm into the ground, aiming to hit her with a wall of familiar spikes.
Whatever they’re planning, this better be worth it.
(cut from here)
Now that's a bad sign! They were just talking, he seemed fine enough. What the hell just happened? Maybe if she'd been able to speak with him before now, she'd have a better read on what's going through his head.
As if. That was never going to be an opportunity, and they've been improvising this entire time.
Shifting how they're sitting with a matching scowl, his rather violent reaction is a good reminder of their roles here. If he's threatening to snap, they need to be ready for that to happen. But they're nothing if not patient. His words seem to physically hurt their ears, and they can barely make out anything he's saying. They're listening nonetheless.
"Are you done?"
Patient in practice, maybe. With a dramatic huff, she pops her neck again. Ever ready... "Because I think I get the gist." Keeping careful watch of both of his arms, she needs to figure out some way to keep this civil. Not that she's ever been good at calming others down. "What I do with my own time is my goddamn business, whether you think It's pointless or not. I didn't ask your opinion on it."
"Loud and clear, I mean exactly what I say. You are not the worst I've seen." Slowly but surely, each fin begins to glow. Starting close to the skin, spreading outwards... She doesn't seem to notice. "You don't need to do anything. Fall into that influence entirely for all I care. But if, and I mean fucking if there is a way out for everyone?"
"You're coming with us. Willingly or otherwise."
He growls his response, clearly struggling to compose himself. Of course. Now. He only begged to have the chain snap. Of course it would actually do so now, when he wanted instead to explain. To talk and understand and be understood.
Like someone turned off a light, the intelligence behind his eyes almost vanishes entirely. Almost. With a sharp growl, he lunges at Phos, permanent grin practically snapping back into place as he does, claws aimed for their chest.
He did try to hold himself back. Truly, he did. But he was bound to lose eventually.
He can’t pull himself away. Can’t back down from the lunge. The man that they were just talking to is gone. For now, at least. Looks like that window of opportunity closed.
Squinting at his face as though that's going to make her hear his words better, the clown of a fish does catch the word 'warn' somewhere in there. Perhaps thankfully for them both, that's enough to set off all kinds of alarm bells. Can't blame her, really- It isn't as though she's used to a heads up over blatant threats or mocking.
Already lifting themselves off the ground when it all finally processes, they practically leap out of his way. Nearly slamming their back into the building beside them, but that would obviously never happen to them. "Alright." They pant, backing away from him. Back towards the cliff edge is a bad idea if he's got any memory of this whole encounter...
There's nowhere else to go.
With this ample warning time, they could absolutely outrun him. But not forever. Never forever. Still no timer, no other survivors, no obvious way out. Unless this counts as the circumstances changing? Of course they had to go and jinx it, so much as thinking their conversation couldn't last forever. They should've known better than to even dare to broach the topic of time. Running for their life still seems like a good choice, for the time being.
Phos considers herself to be a very logical person. She isn't. Yet in her mind, if them conversing was their only reason for being here... Well, it would line up that this little aside should be over, she just needs a way out. Scientific method, if something changes, so do the results!
Her stomach bubbles in visceral discomfort with each footfall. And there's this unnatural, pounding headache. It isn't exactly like John is known for being merciful or quick about these kinds of things.
... Unless he's particularly pissed off. They had several rounds and a bonus death that taught them exactly how to do just that. "Alright!" Calling out behind them, knowing he couldn't be far. "Not personal, swear it." Taking the corner into the abandoned building tightly, he's a fair bit shorter than them. They're no sentinel, but if they can catch him off guard and punch down... Learn from example, eh?
It’s them moving out of the way that gets him going. He lets out an outraged roar as they take off. The time it takes him to stand buys them a few moments of freedom to move. He watches them go, and veers sharply away from their tail.
He’s not falling for it twice. Once he’s content, he slams his corrupted arm into the ground. If the resulting wall doesn’t clip her, it’ll block off one of her exits. Aiming directly for the corner next to the door she entered, the spikes charge forth.
While they might have learned something last time, so did he. And he’s not letting them do it again. So he’s not going to get so much as close to them, opting to choke them out one way or the other.
The lights weren’t off up there. Just dimmed, but still bright enough to be brutally sharp.
Time well spent! While attempting to catch their breath, the telltale sound of "Jesus fucking Christ that's twenty-something spikes shooting out of the ground" keeps them on their feet. Ears flicking as they bounce in place, their only way of telling where it's coming from is by sound. Not trying to repeat the very start of this foolish endeavor and get slashed again!
With the position she put herself in, she winds up having to full-body dive out of the way as the wall slices upwards and destroys her only plan. Rolling back onto her feet, she practically climbs the side of the stairs to get up them faster. Any time she's not moving is time he's getting closer to her, and now those steps are her only way out.
Okay!!! Okay. Adaptability is the name of the game! Luckily that's a skill they're exceptionally practiced in, unluckily they're as out of options as when they started. All they have to do is hit him once or twice, just die and get this over with... Jumping down from the shoddy 'balcony' would only extend the chase, though.
...
Carefully positioning themselves at the top of the stairs, they carefully half-coil their tail and brace it against the wall. One heel where the same wall meets the floor, the other foot keeping them balanced... He has no other option but to follow them up, right? Good a choke point as any.
John slows as she nears the building, making sure to count things out, it seems. He growls quietly, and keeps watch for a few moments. When he can, he wastes no time in positioning himself at the open door. He drops a footprint, then steps back, shoving his arm into the ground as he rather meticulously ensures the resulting wall of spikes would catch Phos entirely in a corral, if she jumped down.
There's a tinge of regret in his mind, one that is very swiftly shaken off as he growls again, reason overcome by... Whatever one might call this. Instinct, perhaps, but that's still not right, according to something still lingering in the back of his mind. With another beat of hesitation, of pushing back against himself, he's off up the stairs after them.
Claws forward, he lunges. He’s half expecting to be slammed into, or swung at, or punched, or shot. So he braces for the worst, still trying to swing for her as he goes, hoping maybe, just maybe, his claws will connect before whatever she has planned.
Listening to his footsteps as he moves about, they readjust their position. Balancing on one foot above a full staircase would make anyone nervous! Though, perhaps the unrest comes from what they're planning. Spikes tear through the ground nearby and they shuffle a little more. It's not like they plan on running much longer, but helpful to take note of.
And finally, the star of the hour! Growing swiftly closer to them as he ascends the stairs, then ever closer...
Even as he lunges for her, she doesn't move. Those claws connect, and she grabs for his wrist, or forearm, or whatever she can dig her own claws into. Her other arm floundering for what's left of his shoulder around that spike, rapidly attaching herself to whatever parts of him she can grab as she lifts her foot off the ground, planting both against the wall.
With both legs and tail, she springboards off the wall, still attempting to dig into and cling on whatever she can get at. With any luck she slams into his chest, and both of them go flying down the stairs at top speed. She's no sentinel, but a good fall... It might be enough to kill them both. There's no frame of reference for how much of a hit John can take before dying though, so she's finding out the worst way.
There’s a moment of pure, unfiltered panic in him as he process what she’s doing. She’s taking him down with her. A sane man might try to break apart from her. At the moment, John is not a sane man. But everything in him wants to live. He struggles, trying to do something- anything to ensure he doesn’t hit something vital on the way down.
With any other survivor, this wouldn’t have happened. No one else is big enough to overpower him. But they are, apparently. And it lights some sort of fire in him. He shoves his claws into her more as they tumble, trying to use the fact they’re heavier than him to his advantage, growling directly into their face.
There’s a moment where something in his mind shrieks bite them! But he refrains. It’s not going to help. He struggles, but luck isn’t on his side. Pointedly not, in fact.
Slamming into the stairs again, his vision blurs. The weight of a whole person enough to really, truly hurt his exposed spine on the way down. He howls in pain, and tries to stop things, but it’s no use.
Pain shoots through them- From where he's stabbing into them, them clutching at his corrupted arm, of course launching two people off of a single wall, and most predictably, however many impacts there really were. It was a blur of sharp pain and overwhelming sound, above it all the dread that this really isn't the best way to go.
As if their momentum had carried post mortem, Phosphate is thrown onto her stomach. Sharp grass and gravel dig into her arms as she skids, only stopping when her frantic hands find wood. Everything still hurt; Her now scratched to hell hands and arms, the feeling of being stabbed by something frantic, the almost indescribable sensation in one palm and that raging headache.
But lifting their head, they see forest. Dark skies, gravel paths, and cabins. Their chuckle comes out more as a strained cough as they rest their forehead on the ground.
"How's that for interesting..."
The sudden motion of another person catches ████ off guard, ███ practically jumps to ███ feet, spinning on ███ heel to look at what had happened. ███ walks over, and crouches down next to them.
“You… Alright? Need or want a hand up?”
███ voice is gentle, if measured. Almost as if worried ███ might upset her by even asking.
"Innaminutemaybe." She wheezes, finally just coughing onto the ground. Something still feels like it's attempting to stab through her ribs. She shifts her weight to the side and digs around with one hand- Rock. Relaxing back down... Nope, still feels like being skewered. Okay.
"I don't think," They cough again, finally lifting their eyes to ███ when it stops. "The panic has set in yet. It's supposed to. We should be terrified. Might've gotten stuck in traffic."
That earns a soft laugh, an almost musical noise that seems out of place in a hellhole like this one. ███ nods, though, and smiles faintly, though ███ gaze is hidden ██ ███ ██████ ██ ███ ███. ████ shifts back a small ways, and sits cross-legged on the pier. ███ fidgets with ███ ███, messing with the ████ of it in an attempt to keep ███ mind from wandering.
"No luck in making it out of that one alive, I take it?"
███ asks, voice still measured. Then it clicks. WE should be terrified. Did they mean the group?
"Or- Wait, terrified over what this time?"
This time. ███ hates that it's this time. Because they can never have a fucking break here, can they?
"Haaaaahhhh no. Rusty silver lining, he didn't either!" Their fingers find gaps in the gravel and dig into the earth. If they don't need help stumbling to their feet, they'll avoid it. "Uh, John, so the usual." Grunting as they pull themselves to their knees, it'll do for the moment.
"I need to talk to Builderman- After that I don't know. It won't be my problem to tell anyone else what happened, he's the only person I figure needs to know." Breathing heavily, she sniffs as she attempts to move off of her knees. The phantom smell of blood moves through her senses. "Being indirect on purpose."
John? ███ gaze snaps over, very clear despite everything. ███ gaze is entirely focused on Phos, and ███ smile drops to a small, deeply pained ghost of a frown. When ███ speaks, ███ voice isn't measured. But it is... Fearful? Worried? Both?
"... What did you learn about him? Builderman.. Should know. But I..."
███ takes a breath, as if trying to steady ███self. What about him could have ███ so worried?
"If you're not willing to share, I'll.. Go find him later, but..."
████ trails off, hands shaky as ███ shifts. ███ voice is barely audible when ███ speaks again
Just another round... Shaking out their hands and feet, they braced themselves for another round of this. The words of two people fresh in their mind, it's time to try something new. Well, that's not quite right. They've already jumped through all the necessary hoops to justify this to themselves, this is an investigative round. The only goal is to find out if this will even work, much more if it's even worth it. If they can handle it.
Once she knows that countdown is running, she's off and looking around. Find out who they're up against, any means necessary. The familiar growling is a good sign, followed by spikes erupting from the ground. Maybe the latter is less of a good sign. But she knows John, or hopefully enough to make some educated guesses.
He is, luckily, easy enough for them to predict. At least until he learns better- It's not difficult for them to pull his attention off some other poor survivor. Then it's just a game of keeping up with the chase...
Namely, stamina. They're fantastic at pacing themselves, but he's typically rather relentless unless an easier target presents itself. Trying to keep his attention on purpose on top of that? A perfect recipe for disaster, as they slam their shoulder into a corner, the momentum turning them to face him head on!-
???
A gunshot from nowhere. The unmistakable sound of a sword connecting with it's target. Maybe it was right, these people would protect her when needed. For now they've got bigger problems to deal with, hurrying off to look for a method to get themselves patched up. He won't give up on coming after her for long, and she knows it.
@phos-saken (hope you wanted to FUCKING READ.)
A fun round, this one was. Plenty of resistance to push through. The familiar hum and ding of his abilities, the reveal of where people were… That new face. No one else was that tall. Had such a distinct look. And no one else on this particular team was quite so fresh. Easy pickings?
The hunt was on.
John roars as he’s stunned, and hit once more, seemingly for good measure. But it doesn’t matter. There’s someone that is far more interesting to take after. With a burst of speed, he’s off after her without faltering. Those pesky sentinels couldn’t get in the way on the other side of the arena.
Well, she has what she wants. John’s undivided attention, as he charges after her, rather consistently barely missing his swings. He growls at her as he misses another swing, mad enough to drop the chase to slam his arm into the ground, aiming to hit her with a wall of familiar spikes.
Whatever they’re planning, this better be worth it.
(cut from here)
Now that's a bad sign! They were just talking, he seemed fine enough. What the hell just happened? Maybe if she'd been able to speak with him before now, she'd have a better read on what's going through his head.
As if. That was never going to be an opportunity, and they've been improvising this entire time.
Shifting how they're sitting with a matching scowl, his rather violent reaction is a good reminder of their roles here. If he's threatening to snap, they need to be ready for that to happen. But they're nothing if not patient. His words seem to physically hurt their ears, and they can barely make out anything he's saying. They're listening nonetheless.
"Are you done?"
Patient in practice, maybe. With a dramatic huff, she pops her neck again. Ever ready... "Because I think I get the gist." Keeping careful watch of both of his arms, she needs to figure out some way to keep this civil. Not that she's ever been good at calming others down. "What I do with my own time is my goddamn business, whether you think It's pointless or not. I didn't ask your opinion on it."
"Loud and clear, I mean exactly what I say. You are not the worst I've seen." Slowly but surely, each fin begins to glow. Starting close to the skin, spreading outwards... She doesn't seem to notice. "You don't need to do anything. Fall into that influence entirely for all I care. But if, and I mean fucking if there is a way out for everyone?"
"You're coming with us. Willingly or otherwise."
He growls his response, clearly struggling to compose himself. Of course. Now. He only begged to have the chain snap. Of course it would actually do so now, when he wanted instead to explain. To talk and understand and be understood.
Like someone turned off a light, the intelligence behind his eyes almost vanishes entirely. Almost. With a sharp growl, he lunges at Phos, permanent grin practically snapping back into place as he does, claws aimed for their chest.
He did try to hold himself back. Truly, he did. But he was bound to lose eventually.
He can’t pull himself away. Can’t back down from the lunge. The man that they were just talking to is gone. For now, at least. Looks like that window of opportunity closed.
Squinting at his face as though that's going to make her hear his words better, the clown of a fish does catch the word 'warn' somewhere in there. Perhaps thankfully for them both, that's enough to set off all kinds of alarm bells. Can't blame her, really- It isn't as though she's used to a heads up over blatant threats or mocking.
Already lifting themselves off the ground when it all finally processes, they practically leap out of his way. Nearly slamming their back into the building beside them, but that would obviously never happen to them. "Alright." They pant, backing away from him. Back towards the cliff edge is a bad idea if he's got any memory of this whole encounter...
There's nowhere else to go.
With this ample warning time, they could absolutely outrun him. But not forever. Never forever. Still no timer, no other survivors, no obvious way out. Unless this counts as the circumstances changing? Of course they had to go and jinx it, so much as thinking their conversation couldn't last forever. They should've known better than to even dare to broach the topic of time. Running for their life still seems like a good choice, for the time being.
Phos considers herself to be a very logical person. She isn't. Yet in her mind, if them conversing was their only reason for being here... Well, it would line up that this little aside should be over, she just needs a way out. Scientific method, if something changes, so do the results!
Her stomach bubbles in visceral discomfort with each footfall. And there's this unnatural, pounding headache. It isn't exactly like John is known for being merciful or quick about these kinds of things.
... Unless he's particularly pissed off. They had several rounds and a bonus death that taught them exactly how to do just that. "Alright!" Calling out behind them, knowing he couldn't be far. "Not personal, swear it." Taking the corner into the abandoned building tightly, he's a fair bit shorter than them. They're no sentinel, but if they can catch him off guard and punch down... Learn from example, eh?
It’s them moving out of the way that gets him going. He lets out an outraged roar as they take off. The time it takes him to stand buys them a few moments of freedom to move. He watches them go, and veers sharply away from their tail.
He’s not falling for it twice. Once he’s content, he slams his corrupted arm into the ground. If the resulting wall doesn’t clip her, it’ll block off one of her exits. Aiming directly for the corner next to the door she entered, the spikes charge forth.
While they might have learned something last time, so did he. And he’s not letting them do it again. So he’s not going to get so much as close to them, opting to choke them out one way or the other.
The lights weren’t off up there. Just dimmed, but still bright enough to be brutally sharp.
Time well spent! While attempting to catch their breath, the telltale sound of "Jesus fucking Christ that's twenty-something spikes shooting out of the ground" keeps them on their feet. Ears flicking as they bounce in place, their only way of telling where it's coming from is by sound. Not trying to repeat the very start of this foolish endeavor and get slashed again!
With the position she put herself in, she winds up having to full-body dive out of the way as the wall slices upwards and destroys her only plan. Rolling back onto her feet, she practically climbs the side of the stairs to get up them faster. Any time she's not moving is time he's getting closer to her, and now those steps are her only way out.
Okay!!! Okay. Adaptability is the name of the game! Luckily that's a skill they're exceptionally practiced in, unluckily they're as out of options as when they started. All they have to do is hit him once or twice, just die and get this over with... Jumping down from the shoddy 'balcony' would only extend the chase, though.
...
Carefully positioning themselves at the top of the stairs, they carefully half-coil their tail and brace it against the wall. One heel where the same wall meets the floor, the other foot keeping them balanced... He has no other option but to follow them up, right? Good a choke point as any.
John slows as she nears the building, making sure to count things out, it seems. He growls quietly, and keeps watch for a few moments. When he can, he wastes no time in positioning himself at the open door. He drops a footprint, then steps back, shoving his arm into the ground as he rather meticulously ensures the resulting wall of spikes would catch Phos entirely in a corral, if she jumped down.
There's a tinge of regret in his mind, one that is very swiftly shaken off as he growls again, reason overcome by... Whatever one might call this. Instinct, perhaps, but that's still not right, according to something still lingering in the back of his mind. With another beat of hesitation, of pushing back against himself, he's off up the stairs after them.
Claws forward, he lunges. He’s half expecting to be slammed into, or swung at, or punched, or shot. So he braces for the worst, still trying to swing for her as he goes, hoping maybe, just maybe, his claws will connect before whatever she has planned.
Listening to his footsteps as he moves about, they readjust their position. Balancing on one foot above a full staircase would make anyone nervous! Though, perhaps the unrest comes from what they're planning. Spikes tear through the ground nearby and they shuffle a little more. It's not like they plan on running much longer, but helpful to take note of.
And finally, the star of the hour! Growing swiftly closer to them as he ascends the stairs, then ever closer...
Even as he lunges for her, she doesn't move. Those claws connect, and she grabs for his wrist, or forearm, or whatever she can dig her own claws into. Her other arm floundering for what's left of his shoulder around that spike, rapidly attaching herself to whatever parts of him she can grab as she lifts her foot off the ground, planting both against the wall.
With both legs and tail, she springboards off the wall, still attempting to dig into and cling on whatever she can get at. With any luck she slams into his chest, and both of them go flying down the stairs at top speed. She's no sentinel, but a good fall... It might be enough to kill them both. There's no frame of reference for how much of a hit John can take before dying though, so she's finding out the worst way.
There’s a moment of pure, unfiltered panic in him as he process what she’s doing. She’s taking him down with her. A sane man might try to break apart from her. At the moment, John is not a sane man. But everything in him wants to live. He struggles, trying to do something- anything to ensure he doesn’t hit something vital on the way down.
With any other survivor, this wouldn’t have happened. No one else is big enough to overpower him. But they are, apparently. And it lights some sort of fire in him. He shoves his claws into her more as they tumble, trying to use the fact they’re heavier than him to his advantage, growling directly into their face.
There’s a moment where something in his mind shrieks bite them! But he refrains. It’s not going to help. He struggles, but luck isn’t on his side. Pointedly not, in fact.
Slamming into the stairs again, his vision blurs. The weight of a whole person enough to really, truly hurt his exposed spine on the way down. He howls in pain, and tries to stop things, but it’s no use.
Pain shoots through them- From where he's stabbing into them, them clutching at his corrupted arm, of course launching two people off of a single wall, and most predictably, however many impacts there really were. It was a blur of sharp pain and overwhelming sound, above it all the dread that this really isn't the best way to go.
As if their momentum had carried post mortem, Phosphate is thrown onto her stomach. Sharp grass and gravel dig into her arms as she skids, only stopping when her frantic hands find wood. Everything still hurt; Her now scratched to hell hands and arms, the feeling of being stabbed by something frantic, the almost indescribable sensation in one palm and that raging headache.
But lifting their head, they see forest. Dark skies, gravel paths, and cabins. Their chuckle comes out more as a strained cough as they rest their forehead on the ground.
"How's that for interesting..."
The sudden motion of another person catches ████ off guard, ███ practically jumps to ███ feet, spinning on ███ heel to look at what had happened. ███ walks over, and crouches down next to them.
“You… Alright? Need or want a hand up?”
███ voice is gentle, if measured. Almost as if worried ███ might upset her by even asking.
"Innaminutemaybe." She wheezes, finally just coughing onto the ground. Something still feels like it's attempting to stab through her ribs. She shifts her weight to the side and digs around with one hand- Rock. Relaxing back down... Nope, still feels like being skewered. Okay.
"I don't think," They cough again, finally lifting their eyes to ███ when it stops. "The panic has set in yet. It's supposed to. We should be terrified. Might've gotten stuck in traffic."
That earns a soft laugh, an almost musical noise that seems out of place in a hellhole like this one. ███ nods, though, and smiles faintly, though ███ gaze is hidden ██ ███ ██████ ██ ███ ███. ████ shifts back a small ways, and sits cross-legged on the pier. ███ fidgets with ███ ███, messing with the ████ of it in an attempt to keep ███ mind from wandering.
"No luck in making it out of that one alive, I take it?"
███ asks, voice still measured. Then it clicks. WE should be terrified. Did they mean the group?
"Or- Wait, terrified over what this time?"
This time. ███ hates that it's this time. Because they can never have a fucking break here, can they?
