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Box.

[Strong torture references here, another monologue. Ark. No. And if you do, I take no responsibility.]

The last thing I remember is screaming. My throat and mind are raw, my lips are burned and coated in coppery flakes of dried human blood, and my own thicker, stickier sap. I’m not sure how long I’ve been out, how long my tongue has been uselessly flicking against the stubborn strip of skin stuck between my teeth, but it feels as though it could be days. The human is probably dead by now.

I failed.

Again.

Darkness is almost a comfort. At least until I wake enough to try and move. I’m not in the chair anymore. My legs are laid out flat, my arms by my sides. My head barely moves an inch when I try to sit, stopped immediately by what feels like rough wood against my peeled forehead. Shoulders and elbows report the same to either side, only tiny pinpricks of light allow air to flow through.

I am unbound, but I cannot move.

Instinctively, I reach out for it. I know this game. And if I escape the box before hunger renders me too weak to do so, perhaps I will be rewarded. Extra bread with clean water. Yes. If I prove to him I am strong and worthy, perhaps I won’t go hungry. I can be good. I’ve promised it so many times, but whenever I try to demonstrate it falls apart. I end up punished. This time will be different.

Steady your breathing, sylvari.

You are only trapped if you choose to be.

Only trapped if you are too weak to save yourself.

Only trapped if you are too wicked to deserve life.

Focus.

I ignore the darkness closing in, the fact that my body calls out in pain and I cannot shift a muscle to relieve it. The dimensions of the box are too tight, I don’t dare tilt my head to the side for fear the box will collapsed down further and my movement will be more restricted. But I am more than the physical body—I know that. I am the elements around me, I gather my consciousness, breathing out as I reach for the energies that I know will help me.

But my consciousness goes no further than the inside of my skin.

It stops. It is prisoner inside me. Useless unless it can be set free.

The box closes in further, or so it seems. Focus flies out the window in a rise of panic, the only hope now that this may not be real. That I am sleeping, dreaming that same horrendous nightmare I’ve had since Mavern first locked me in the teaching box. I need exits, I need space, I need the room to move my elbows and kick my toes. I need the air in my lungs, and now I have no air.

I have no air.

They’re taking the air from the box!

They must be, there is no other explanation for the tightness in my chest, the shrinking of my skin with the box around me, the frantic energy that builds within me and wants me to lash out—to kick through the solid boards keeping me here. I try.

By all the gods, do I try.

I thrash against the wood, injured limbs just achieving dull thuds and tiredness, breath panting rugged in and out of me, mouth dry and lips still tinged with the coppery taste of human.

The human.

Is she out there too?

Is she also in a box?

He said I would feast on her again.

She can’t be too far away, and perhaps she’s alive. If I just get free, I can fix all of this. I can sate the screaming need that radiates up from the base of my spine, exploding into my mind in a chorus of hope, desperation, frustration, but most of all the sickening knowledge that if I cannot achieve this task I might literally die from the failure. I have to save her somehow. I have to fix what I could not do when she was on the table, I have to make this right. I have to do what needs to be done and take another step away from wickedness, I have to.

I don’t exist otherwise.

I let it consume me, and I scream. I thrash. I twist and I tear wounds open, I throw myself against the box, panicked and desperate to escape, driven by a need that controls me more tightly than any rope or commanding word ever could. The human needs healing. I have to obey, at any cost.

I get nowhere. The box does not yield.

But I scream.

And I kick.

And I scream.

#Yes that is a 4 Non Blondes reference #sylvari #Virtuosity #eating human #captured by Nightmare court #captured #panic attack #scream #gw2rp #gw2tumblrs #gw2

The Dead

One year. One long year of suffering. Fighting against… them.

The dead, walking. Eating. Eating the living, destroying all that we know. But I survived, along with my friend, Anjali. Other guys, though, didn’t live more than three months. I’m the last living in this hell hole of a world.

I load my gun, and look back, towards Anjali. She nods, giving me the okay to go in. I knock, no sound comes…

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#biting to turn human beings into zobies #dead #decaying body #eating human #living #living dead #speading infection #viral #Zombie #zombie invasion