Roxy... magical, miraculous, motherly-- mutilÍaÍteÍdÍ ÍmÍanÍgleÍd ÌĄmo̧tionlÍĄessÍ--
You walk towards her, each footstep echoing loudly in your ears, with all the pace and speed of a funeral march. Shivers run up and down your spine like frantic insects. Every thought is a battle, every breath a war, and yet you continue to slowly advance, spurred on by some inexplicable force ĂŃŃÏηàč ŃÏÏ
Ń ÄÏηtŃÏâ.
One foot after the other after the other after the other.
Her body, swinging from her own entrails; her eyes, open and unseeing; her blood pooling at her feet--
She moves, her features contorting as a twisted smile plays at the corner of her mouth. She asks you what's wrong. She asks you why you look so scared. It's her, can't you see? No need to be afraid. Everything will be αââ ŃÎčgĐœâ now--
One foot after the other after the other after the other.
The wordless sound that tears from her throat is raw and ragged, closer to the cry of a wild animal than that of any human utterance, piercing enough to shatter your fragile glass heart and twice as loud. Thin, ink-black spindly arms with fingers like fishhooks pour from her open mouth. They stretch towards you, embedding their razor sharp nails into your exposed flesh and dragging you into the abyss. You can't struggle or scream, you can only be pulled ÂąâÏŃŃŃ and Ïlàč§Ńr--
Aleesa... precious, patient, pure-- pallÍidÌą piteoÌuÍąsÍ p̶oisÍoÌ·nÍedÍĄ--
A music box melody [x] chimes softly in your ears. Your chest tightens; it's hard to breathe as an inexplicable feeling of dread presses upon you, threatening to collapse your lungs and stop your heart. You must find her-- find her, before it's too late. You sprint down the deserted hallway, through open doors that lead to identical hallways, an endless maze without an exit.
Round and around and around and around.
Her body, frozen in a perfect pirouette; her eyes, closed-- no, painted shut; a porcelain doll of good intentions revolving like clockwork--
She rotates, her back towards you, but when she faces you again her eyes are open, as pale blue as the afternoon sky on a cloudless summer day. The music loops. Repeats. Her shoulders don't shake when she giggles, nor does her mouth move when she speaks. She tells you it's all for the best. She says she's happier dead. She's happier you're dead, too; after all, didn't you deserve it? Isn't it better this way? You don't have to wĂ°rr„ Äñ„mĂ°rĂȘ--
Round and around and around and around.
Tick, tock. You've run out of time. The room begins to spin to the tune, faster and faster, until you're nearly dizzy from it. You reach towards her. After all, you remind her, you promised to keep her safe. When she turn again, a single teardrop is sketched as a motionless line down her cheek. As soon as your fingers brush the smooth, unyielding clay surface of her arm, it cracks, flaking away piece by piece until her entire body splinters and breaks apart. Jagged fragments from her remains tear through your skin, and this time you are able to scream, and you keep screaming, trying to drown out the sound of your own heart as it pounds, pounds, pounds to the music, faster and faster until you feel you yourself might BĐŠĐŻÆ§ÆŹ --
Porrim... brave, beautiful, beloved-- blÌ”oÍod̶y bÒrÍoÍkenÍ Ì·bÍlaÍcÌąkÌ·-ÍhÍea̶rtÍeÍdÍ--
Pulling the pin from her own stomach and stabbing it into yours. Her eyes are buttons, her mouth sewn shut--
Dave... loyal, lawful, lively-- lÍĄyÌ·iÌng ÌĄloaÍtÌ·hsoÍmÍe̶ lÍąifȩless--
His hands around your throat, silencing you for good. His face flickers, from healthy to burned and scarred, until the two of you are consumed by fire--
Ash... strong, sarcastic, selfless-- sÍĄordiÍdÌš siÍ nÍ isţeÌr sÌ·h̶aÍmÌ·eÍfÍuÍąlÍ--
Ripping off your wings one by one, feather by feather. She convulses, elongating into a snake large enough to swallow you whole, her fangs hovering inches away from your neck--
Gabriel, Kanaya, Â Rufioh, Blanna, Eridan, Kimura, Jade, Dirk-- dead, all dead because of you--
Kurloz... Kurloz, your best friend, your confidant, your brother--
Larger than life; he towers above you, laughing, and handles you as if you were nothing more than a small lifeless doll. This is your cross to bear, he says, not his. It's your fault he died. It's your fault they all died.
The nails are as thick as tree trunks, the hammer as large and tall as Skaia Academy itself--
Kankri's eyes snapped open, his chest heaving. Every inhalation burned; every exhalation brought a fresh wave of searing pain, and he was having difficulty discerning what was up and what was down. He pulled himself upright on shaky feet and stumbled away into the darkness, one hand clutching at his heart. His mind was too foggy to remember the events of last night, or register the four sleeping companions he was now leaving behind, but all he knew was that he had to get away.
He was shaking uncontrollably and the pain was more intense, now, more acute-- the holes in his wrists and feet stung as if they were filled with acid, and all the horrors of his execution had resurfaced more vividly than ever.
His friends-- they couldn't know. He couldn't bear for them to see him like this, and he knew he would only get worse as the night progressed.
As soon as he had put enough distance between them-- flying, running, stumbling, tripping, crawling-- he collapsed, a shivering bundle of nerves. His claws scrambled to untie his tie, but he gave up after a few unsuccessful attempts, willing away every article of clothing except for a pair of boxers. He was burning up, his body covered in a sheen of sweat as he rocked back and forth, trying to block out the images of his night terrors that plagued him even now, awake.
Tears streamed down his face. He was far, far away from anyone who could hear him, so he wept openly, his high-pitched keening the only sound to break the empty silence that surrounded him. Whether his tears stemmed from his physical pain, his grief, or his fear, he wasn't certain. He didn't care. He curled tightly into himself, his arms wrapped around his knees as if that would stop the quakes that wracked his body, and waited for it to pass...
...as he had done for countless nights since his death.
