"I should have known it'd be you." (I want feels again. QAQ)
Leave me “I should have known it’d be you,” and I’ll generate a number between 1-25 to see how my character would kill yours.
Our characters are forced to fight to the death and mine is the victor.
Again. It was happening all over again. Stop. Please. I don’t want to do this. That sickeningly familiar pressure in her mind, an inexorable force that gave little way even as she strained back against it. No. Not again. She had to fight him. She had to dominate. She couldn’t let it happen again.
Oh, sweet Naga, not her. Please, anyone but her. Flinching at her boon-sister’s voice as if it caused her physical pain, the ravenette retreated, arms wrapped around her emaciated frame as if by doing so she could contain the malicious presence that was poisoning her thoughts. Go away. Run. Leave me alone. I’m not safe. Her silence had only garnered more concern; the pace of the boot heels against stone had quickened slightly in an attempt to overtake her.
“Morgan, are you alright?”
"I’M fIne." An internal cringe at the sound of her own voice. Already the Grimeal taint was seeping in, warping her words. "jUSt GiVE mE SOmE TimE."
The footsteps faltered. “…M-Morgan?”
Uncertainty wavered the princess’s tone. Yes, good. Fear me. Don’t come near. Turn around. Leave. She wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass; as quickly as she could Morgan staggered into her room, threw the lock as tight as she could make it, and tossed the key into her fireplace. Even if Grima won her body, he wouldn’t be so stupid as to put himself at a disadvantage by sticking his host’s hand into fire. Then almost throwing herself into a corner, trying to stay out of sight, away from the window, away from the door, away from her family of animals that had hidden themselves beneath her bed, sensing their “mother’s” unsoundness of mind.
Morgan’s silent prayers went unanswered; even as she renewed her attention towards ascertaining Lucina’s whereabouts the sound of footsteps drawing closer reached her, their pace quickened. No, don’t! You know there’s something wrong, just go away, please! But still the clicking of boots grew ever louder until they stopped before her door.
“Don’t lie to me, Morgan. I can tell just from your voice you’re not fine!” The door jiggled as the princess tested it. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong! You don’t have to fight it alone!”
Yes I do. This isn’t something you can help me battle, Lu. Please, just leave me alone. Save yourself, save the others. You’re the hope of everyone here…!
All she managed, however, was a halting, "…iSn’T… HElp… LeAVe…"
She could feel it, Grima’s cold claws ripping into her mind, invading her functions, tearing away her control. Failure was imminent; such was her weakness, unable to even battle her father and Chrom’s sworn enemy in her only forte. As the last of her will was wrenched from her, all Morgan could do was lament her inability to protect her friends, to put an end to this madness. But one last time, she cried out desperately to her boon-sister.
Horrific deja vu swept over the petite tactician as the Fell Dragon forced her back, a spectator in her own mortal coil. Gerome, too large now to fit where most of the others had cowered, bristled as Grima gained control, hissing in confusion and distress at the unfamiliar scent that now mingled with Morgan’s own. The avatar of destruction ignored the dragonling, his attention focused on the bluenette who was attempting to force the door open. Morgan felt her lips twist into a cruel smirk.
“IS THAT WISE, CHILD OF NAGA? DO YOU REALLY WANT TO SEE WHAT LIES BEYOND THIS DOOR?”
The scrabbling outside abruptly stopped; Morgan smelled the sharp tang of fear. “No… Grima!?”
Grima’s laughter raked fire up her throat, so alien was his influence on a human body. “DID YOU THINK ME LIMITED TO BUT ONE SHELL? YOU ARE INDEED A FOOLISH AND PITIFUL RACE, EVEN AS NAGA’S CHOSEN.”
“…! You…!” Lucina’s voice rang with indignation as she realized what had happened. Her next words, however, were strong, directed not at the creature that had possession of her friend's body, but the oppressed will of Morgan herself. “Morgan! Fight him! I’m coming to help!”
The door shuddered once, twice, before there was a grunt beyond the wood and a metallic clang rang out. Lock rendered useless, the barrier at the entrance flew open and the princess burst in, Falchion poised to strike. Grima already had Morgan's sword drawn, and their blades met with a resounding clang. Azure hard with determination locked with malicious scarlet; the ravenette mentally mustered courage and strength from the Brand of the Exalt that gleamed at her like a jewelled beacon. She had to win, she had to best Grima, if only to save her beloved boon-sister. Kill me if you must; I don't deserve to live anyway.
Lucina, however, seemed to have other plans. Though her blows smashed hard on the younger's defences, Morgan sensed no killing intent behind them. No, she was holding back, unwilling to bring bodily harm on a friend. Don't worry about me, please. I don't care if you hurt me, it's nothing less than I deserve. Grima will overpower you otherwise. Alas, her voiceless cries went unheard, though she struggled against the Fell Dragon's crushing willpower
"DO YOU MEAN TO WIN WITH SUCH LACK OF CONVICTION BEHIND YOUR STRIKES, CHILD OF NAGA?" Grima mocked. "I AM THE WINGS OF DESTRUCTION. YOUR CURRENT STRENGTH WILL NOT REACH ME."
Firelight danced upon their swords as they traded blows, sparks flying at each note of the deadly symphony. Never once did the manic smirk leave Morgan's face, and bit by bit it became apparent that try as she might, Lucina could not bring herself to severely harm the smaller girl. Slowly, steadily, her swings grew sluggish, her breathing laboured. Morgan's body was no better, but the Fell Dragon was a cunning monster, and an underhanded one.
With a grunt of exertion the princess swung again; fatigue botched her strike. Serpent swift Grima took full advantage of the opening, brushing her blade aside. Morgan's internal scream could not drown out the sickening squelch of metal through flesh. Lucina's eyes widened as a choked gasp bubbled from her throat, followed shortly by a streak of crimson that flowed from her lips.
Morgan felt like she was in a nightmare, that same nightmare that had haunted her pillow for the past two years. The cold ball of horror that dragged at the pits of her stomach, the silent pleas of no, this can't be real, this can't be happening, the terrible taunting truth of it's real, you can't run from it.
Grima's cackle rent the air as he wrenched the sword from Lucina's chest and the girl collapsed to her knees, struggling for breath even as her hand pressed against the rapidly growing crimson stain on her chest. Ocean hues glazed with pain and quickly-fading life flickered upward to meet Morgan's.
"Morgan... this isn't... your fault. I'm sorry... I couldn't..."
The tears came with delicious clarity, but that small freedom from Grima's grip was lost in the insurmountable grief that crushed her heart into pieces. Her blood-splattered sword clattered to the floor from nerveless fingers.
She had killed again, and once again it was the one person the world couldn't lose.
