It was cold. It was dark. Past the sounds of prayers for safety, and cries for help- there was a soft breathing. A human child with so much magical potential- some of it already realized and coming to fruition.
Thrown into rags that barely kept them warm, and wrists bound in shackles, the child slept in the recesses of the jail. There was shouting audible from buildings over- another trial taking place.
The child was eleven at the most, with dark skin and darker hair with a red tint. Golden eyes flitted past their eyelashes whenever they barely woke, only to drift back off to sleep. There was evidence on their features that they had been crying- likely to the point of this exhaustion.
Honestly his palace would end up going downward, instead of going up to the second floor or the third you’d be travelling underground deeper and deeper into darkness.
The first floor would be a peaceful looking city inhabited by the shadows. The people like shadows won’t attack as they are simply part of the backdrop. Despite everything, how twisted and corrupted his ideals and goals have become… at the very beginning of it all his goal had been to bring peace to his people and find a way for them to have an easier life. The way of infiltrating the town is cracks in the southern part of the wall that surrounds the town that can be climbed
The further down you go though the more his want for peace becomes a need for vengeance and the feelings of hatred permeating him.
The first level down would simply be endless stone hallways filled with traps and false ends. There are paintings decorating the hall depicting his home and the people he knows…. Well more so the people he knew who he couldn’t protect. Who met an untimely demise. There are so many paintings lining the walls.
The next level gets darker, literally not metaphorically, well perhaps both really. There are less lights making it harder to see but that might be a blessing with what is down there.
Rows upon rows of cells. They are splattered with dry blood and rusted chains. Some of them are closed with shadows inside of them that will reach out from the bars towards you begging for you to release them from their unjust imprisonment. This level is filled with screams that don’t sound like they are coming from this floor but from below.
One has to be careful traversing this level as there are puzzles here that will change the floors layout should you get the order of the puzzles switches wrong so you ave to memorize where the switches are all over again.
The next area and final area before the treasure room is a plethora of torture chambers connected by small stone passageways. One can hear the eerie wails of those who suffer down here. the shadows in cages will not attack you, only cry out as you approach for freedom or mercy. Luckily for anyone who infiltrated this far you won’t be harmed by the torture devices here, unless you are an idiot who decides to sit on a spiked chair or something of the like.
This area is better lit for better or worse, than the last one so you can see the dried blood on the torture implements. This floor represents how he longs to make those who caused his people so suffer to feel an even worse pain. To make them regret their negligence and/or their help in harming his home.
The final room is a large dark throne room with a locked door behind it which would be the treasure room.There is an upper path though that leads to a painting that can be moved that has a small secret tunnel into the treasure room. The path is hidden by hanging draperies. The throne has a few splatters of blood on it that match the color of the seat so it’s hard to see especially in the darkness of the room. The shadows (Actual shadows not the creature shadows, like the shadows you cast when there’s a light shadows) Seem to dance along the walls with the flickering flames of the lanterns hanging around. The flames in the lanterns are blue giving the room an eerie feel.
The child simply stared at the creature with a steeled expression, eyes wild with unease as they kept their knife pointed at whatever that was. They automatically wanted to protest that they weren’t frightened of this strange being, they were just caught off guard because no one other than Frisk should have been here in the first place.
They silently watched as the newcomer disappearing behind the base of the building only to come back into view somewhere else. Frisk had lowered their knife as they stared, but it didn’t mean they weren’t still insistent on using it if they had to.
“...No. Was that teleportation magic? What are you? And why are you here in the first place?”
PLAYER sat in a cross legged posture, a near 10 foot column of display screens surrounding them in a circle. Several other of their avatars stood around, sorting through the screens as well. They rapidly processed the information gathered as they held the central avatar’s soul fragment in their hands.
This avatar was their oldest. They’d say if was the closest thing they had to an original body in this state. Honestly they had barely any idea what happened to their physical body.
Their attention was diverted however from the information they were processing for their next stage of their plan by a strange surge in data approaching this space they had created for themselves to reside when not jumping timelines.
Dispelling the screens and dismissing their copies back to the timelines they pulled them from, they made their way into their ‘room’, taking a seat in a chair while they waited for the approaching entity to appear. They were nothing if not a magnanimous host.
Tonight was a pondering night. A thoughtful one, where the stars kept her mind company as she allowed it to wander in every which way, never stopping. Sometimes, she granted herself that pleasure, as it was rare that she could ever be bothered to sit with whatever it was that lurked in the corners of her consciousness.
It was never any good, but after the failures that had been both the League of Evil Exes and Scott Pilgrim himself, one really had to ask what was wrong with them to keep dating such complete losers.
Among... other things. But we don’t talk about those. Actually, let’s not and say we did, yeah? Good plan? Good plan.
She let out a deep sigh, turning her head back up to look at the sky as she sat on the concrete park bench - cold underneath her, clearly rarely used. How fitting for someone like her, who could never beat the clock.
“Man...” She muttered to herself, pausing for another moment before reaching into her purse and pulling out both a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
I can quit whenever I want. It’s fine. No problem.
She put the unlit cigarette between her lips, and ignited the flame. Within seconds, a warmth crept through her nose and cheeks, as a bright orange spark flew from the tip of the cigarette. She took a puff, and leaned forward, focusing on a fountain in the distance - a fountain that occasionally spat water in perfect sync.
Cute Headcanon: Ota will find any excuse to sing. She's happy, she'll sing a happy song. She's sad, she'll sing a sad song. She feels like being a nuisance to someone who slighted her, she sings a repetitive, annoying song. Songs help her work out her feelings.
What is the cutest headcanon you have for my muse?
While I don’t think she sings quite that often. I do imagine she does sing on occasion or when she’s bored. I imagine Ota’s singing voice sounding similar to Jubyphonic.
inkyubeytor replied to your post: (can men please not Do That)
((When a person is an overbearing extrovert. Blech.))
(it’s not that they were being an overbearing extrovert its that he kept interrupting my meal to try and talk to me and get my facebook. anytime i thought the conversation was over and tried going back to my pizza he’d start trying to ask me about something else to keep talking to me and kept pushing to get my facebook after i told him i dont use my account.)
