Cutting through code takes some being careful. They’re not bad at it, but they’re still not an expert at working out exactly what does what and why and how.
Unfortunately, with experience comes complacency.
Bendy is a popular guy, after all. Lots of his games around. Lots that they’ve managed to take a moment and drop in to see. They’ve done it enough that, worse than thinking they know exactly what they’re doing, they don’t think at all.
Frisk just lets their body go through the motions, creeping through the numbers and swinging their blade once they find a part their eyes vaguely recognize.
They step through the hole they made, feeling it seal behind their back, but that’s not what they’re paying attention to.
There’s something on the floorboards. A shape made of something like cardboard, though they’re not exactly sure if that’s what it is. A familiar shape–Bendy’s shape. Or at least a third of one, in front of their feet. The back of one of the cutouts’ heads.
Frisk glances over their shoulder.
The rest of it’s balanced precariously against one of those star drawings (they’ve never heard of pentacles) which has its own absurdly deep scar though the wood. It’s holding a sign in its hands. While most of the sign’s corner’s been sliced away by their careless blade, same as the wall, they can still read what it says:
WANDERING
IS A TERRIBLE
SIN.
The face is on the floor. It can’t really see them…
And yet there’s a tight feeling in their SOUL that right now, they just messed up bad.
𝄡 ― Oh how time seemed to slow to a crawl for you . The hours and days merged with the weeks and the years . The time from your creation to now was all but a blur , memories bleeding together like ink dropped on paper . You were tired , you were broken . The well of voices screamed your name , begged for you to solve their problem . An eternal damnation for those around you and yourself .
And those who wandered made it w o r s e .
It was your job , your duty . You were the savior and the one to make things right . You wanted perfection , in yourself and others . You strived for far too long , fighting that Angel and fixing what she has made worse . Your studio , this hell that was made for you , was falling apart , and you were going to fix it . But as people destroy your image you know that chaos is unfolding . It ’ s how she annoys you , it ’ s how they deface you . And so you ’ ve learned to fight back . To fight the imperfections , the ink . The monsters that lurk within the halls of this studio .
And so you do as you must , and walk the halls to save and redeem those destroyed by a single man ’ s hubris . So much pain echoes through the walls . The Creator lied to us . They lied to us all . You have no hesitations to see what disturbance now threatens your home , your sole purpose . Ink spreads out from you , covering the walls in your living presence . Slow steps , the sound of ink flowing follows you like a curse . The room grows dark as you enter , and look down at the child .
A child , and nothing more , a knife in their hand . How had they gotten here , and more importantly had they been spared by the true demon of this hell ? You glare down at them , your eyes hidden with the ink that now runs down your deformed body . You tilt your head to the side , and quickly move to them , leaning down uncomfortably close as you just look at them . They are not one with the Ink . They had not learned to fear the Ink Machine . They were a pure soul , one who had not been touched . One that you had no purpose saving .
❝ LOST , lost , lost in this world . Wandering is a grievous sin , and you should fear every corner . Who are you ? Why have you come into Hell ? You ’ ll stain your soul , and soon the ink will consume that which breathes . Do you need to be saved ? To be shown the dream and save us from this lie we are forced to live ? Trapped in an illusion of living . . . ❞
Your instincts do nothing but scream at you , beg you to grab them by the throat and throw them into the Ink . Let it swallow them , consume them . Let them be reborn as the savior that you needed . But this was not who you were looking for , and this was not the Creator . This was an innocent , caught in the crossfire . Despite what every drop of you tells you to do , you want nothing more than to do what you have done seeing anyone else in this forsaken place . Alice, the Projectionist , and the searchers all alike . No one was safe from your wrath .
But this was different , and an instinct you had thought so long ago lost was resurfacing . You were sure , nearly positive , that this was just a child . No tricks . And so , perhaps since you are in fact Bendy , you didn ’ t want to harm them . So instead you just lean over them , ink dripping from your form . Your face far too close to theirs , and your grin far too wide to be comforting to anyone ’ s psyche .
kianamaiart
romaincrisis
jacobvanloon
vaporwave
germansingergirl
areudirty
blakekathryn