warnings: death, body horror, i guess general weeaboo ish ness since I never came up with a language for Krielin's country and just lazily used Japanese
She had the blade in her hand, clean, shimmering, the rain reflecting like diamonds, dripping soundlessly of the edge into the torn grass as she watched and listened to the whistling static. The endermage’s claws closed listlessly against the water, which hit each part of him with a hiss, a blur of static just emanating from his torn mouth.
His eyes were closed, his brown hair plastered to the torn face, while his ebony ribs glimmered underneath the ragged robes. The wraith’s eye was still loped around his neck, covered in festering burns.
Crez stood quietly, stonefaced as she watched the once composed prince shudder weakly in the midst of the rain. She had come across him by accident as she was walking, heading home, heading home.
[私には国など名もない。]
She knelt on the wet grass, watching mutely as his skin turned to ash under the falling sky.
[There were two, 二人, one from a 木, he said, you said, he laughed and tucked away his smile.]
His eyes were closed, clenched in pain, and she knew that they would be tainted with the End but for some reason she remembered the icy blue like the frost on the windows of the tower.
「わしは探しているぬよ、わしの国の話でも they're forgotten. And soon, so will I...]
She picked up the wraith's eye, feeling the dragon's angry roars shake her hand, the End burning into her hand but she only saw [a hand reaching out, his tired eyes like clear quartz set in ivory, he smiled and said something]
[ね、ここまでいてありがとう。]
The sea green shards fell upon the grass, mingling with the drops of scarlet and the prince shuddered and cried out, his voice human compared to the rising sea of static growing in her ears.
[Why? Why! あなたは神力を持つのに、なぜ、なぜつかえん！]
[shattered glass, consuming, plagued dusk, the bloodied bloom spreading against too pale skin]
She rested her hands upon him, the burned one over his forehead and the other over his heart. He did not open his eyes, but only murmured something softly in an unknown tongue.
[he stared at you during the cold nights and told the truth, his eyes clouded quartz set in ink stained bone]
[he cursed you, he despised you, he filled your veins with fire and tore you apart]
[he said i hlaotve you and rloeste you fualpl.]
He took your hand with a claw and said please.
She said, I know. And kissed his amethyst stained face.
And the shadows rose up to meet him, took him gently in its warm embrace, and told him of his end.
And she sat there, in the drizzling rain, looking at where a prince once lay.
I'm gonna use my other MC OCs for this, because it seemed more fitting.
His glasses fogged up every time he sipped the warmed wine, the spices tickling his nose as he gazed over the brim of the mug.
The night was quiet and cold, a stark contrast to what had been happening mere moments ago; Aroon toppling over a stack of research books and Chris unfortunately taking the brunt of the tower. The ender-turned-human had gotten a good clunk in the back of his head, and was out like a fizzled light, while the predatory alien was left to pick up the books, grumbling and directed under the watchful but firm eyes of Miffy.
Desmond had escaped the noise with a mug of spiced wine, kept hot by Contre's experimentation with her crucible, and he took another sip from it, feeling the heat slip down his throat and spread out from his stomach. It was nice, he decided, to take a break from deciphering lore and just sit on the roof, watching the moon bask the lands in a silvery breath.
The wind stirred, picking up the edges of his cloak and brushing his hair away from face. There was a creak as the trapdoor opened, revealing the mug enchanter with her own wine. She carefully crawled over to where he was sitting, gripping the mug with taunt fingers, before sliding herself unceremoniously near the curly haired man.
"Misiczek, Des."
"Good evening to you. What about the trio?"
Contre let out a long sigh, her unbound, red hair fluttering in the night breeze while the crystalized ender on her face sparked softly. "They've all fallen asleep, keeping Chris company."
He took a sip, savoring the burning sweetness on his tongue. "Are the books all picked up?" The alchemist simply took a long drink from her concoction, shaking her head no. "Like I said, they fell asleep."
Desmond turned to look at her curiously, his lenses reflecting the moon's light. "On the floor...?"
"What kind of friend do you take me for! Zievien. Basor." She turns away, muttering foreign words under her breath, clouding in the chilly air. The man just breaks into a smile and turns back to his own mug to study the steam rising off of it.
Suddenly Contre's pressed up against him, wrapping part of his cloak over her shoulders. "Zievien. It is cold," she states, solemnly taking another drink, her ender stained arm brushing his side, making him squirm a little from the light contact.
"Aroon would be jealous, us sitting up here, not working and just drinking." He pauses, and looks up. "The stars are marvelous, no?"
The alchemist barely tilts her head. "I suppose. They are not as good as the ones at home."
They're both silent for a while, Desmond tempted to shift a little in the middle of the uncomfortable silence, pondering what to say in response, but she breaks it before he does. "They were beautiful. Perhaps a difference in the composure of the atmosphere, but they shimmered like tiny pearls. A long time ago, they called them the tears of the goddess, tears shed by the ocean for the sister whom she was separated from."
"What happened to the sisters?"
Contre shrugs, her face hidden by the curtain of hair. "That part of the legend is not well known. The people were persecuted for being foreigners to the land I lived in. And they decided to escape the lands. No one knows what happened to them."
He notes quietly that her fingers were clutched around the mug, shaking slightly, so he pulls her closer and kisses the top of her hair. "I'm sure they'll be okay. They're survivors, after all." The alchemist is silent, and just rests herself against him, finishing the remains of her drink.
They sit there, Des sipping his wine as Contre stares out over the roof, watching perhaps the moon's rays glimmer on the lake's surface, and glint off the waxen leaves of trees. He can hear her breathe with solemn whistles of air, taking in the chilled taste of night while he gulps the last of the spice, the flavor lingering on his tongue.
"It is late," she murmurs, "we should go back."
"Mmm. Can't you just cast something and keep us warm up here? I like the stars."
She turns to glare at him. "Spells do not work like that." The wine's warmth had blossomed in her face, and she staggers a little when she stands up. "Let us rest."
Desmond quickly stands up and takes her by the arm, and the two make their way into the dimly lit house, warm and secure. He clambers down first, then turns to make sure the alchemist won't fall off the ladder.
"Zievien, Desmond, I am fine." She hands him the mugs, and gets down without any incident, then looks up for a moment through the hatch.
"I suppose," she mumbles, "the stars here are rather alright as well."
Truth be told I don't remember writing this but it's a nice piece.
Er, nice in my terms.
tw: death
Risk. A calculated gamble.
She trembled as she felt energy drain out of her as if her life blood was pooling on the floor. But it wasn’t blood, no, it was the essence of life, her life. Watched the glowing eyes through the helm stare at her sternly, felt the hand stroke her cheek, and felt the life leech away from her.
Familiar, she thought to herself, but even then she was scared, scared, because no one had known her like the way the god did, her talks diminished easily by the ridiculously pink haze that was flowing out of her body.
She didn’t know everything, but more than typical was enough.
She was tempted to take out the vial and drink it in front of her, to retrieve what solace it offered, the burning pain that made her feel invigorated, even as she died, because dying wasn’t so bad, or at least she told herself that the many times that occurred before. She didn’t know how much her body believed that as it trembled in fear of her demise.
A strange thought fluttered through her mind then. I want to kiss her. Was it merely because her companion had mentioned his kiss? But it flittered away as she felt burning pain in her chest, right above her heart.
She relented. Vial or no vial, truth or lie, she was going to die anyway, so with a tongue that worked against her, she confessed. And when the vial clattered, mostly empty, she was surprised. Had she really drank that much of the blood?
She told the truth. There wasn’t that much to hide, and it wasn’t something dear to her. She knew it would be just be another factor added to the ways she would be tormented. Even behind the armor she could see the eyes light up with the thought.
It was part of the gamble. Though the ent wasn’t.
Play the struggle. Refuse the drink. Have it be forced down your throat. But her pain and fear was genuine. The world crumbled. The sun rose high in the sky as the ground seemed to waver and shake under her footsteps. A beast crowed, and each touch was a jolt of nerves that screeched down her spin.
Everything hurt. The bridge collapsed and she clung to the rails in desperation, her heart thudding while fiery hell coursed through her veins. She limped up the stairs but they started to spin, and headed down through a long tunnel. Or was it up?
She clung to the floor as the spider appear, grotesque, large, six eyes gleaming, her dagger a puny sliver against the gargantuan. It screeched and clawed at her arm and bit it, before she stabbed it repeatedly.
Blood. Her arm and side were on fire. Was it hers, or the spider’s? She swung, and it struck back, tearing her shirt but it scrabbled away. Cold ice and wire tore into her face as she felt the grainy surface on the stairs. Footsteps clattered softly, a mocking voice piercing her hazy mind.
She didn’t care. Things whispered and pulled. The impact was horrible, molten lava flashed against her body, then wires grafted her body as she sunk into a pool of blood, before realizing it was a sofa. Something on her back fluttered. Wings? Death was better. Death was better than constant fear and pain, everything an enemy.
She laughed. Couldn’t stop laughing. Her throat burned and her body protested but the giggles shook her body. She was going mad, or was she? Tears threatened to stream down her face, as hot blades dug into her leg and throat. But it was so hilarious, to see herself like this, craving death instead of living. Words had been reduced down to crowing shrieks and giggles, the bare bones of hysteria as fire tore apart at her skin.
Then tiredness, a darkness that slipped in through her overzealous mind, told her to sleep, told her to close the tear stained eyes. It sat calmly on top of her thudding heart and told the highways of anxious roads to slow down, the gleaming eyes watching her, as her gasps involuntarily became sighs. She slipped, spiraled down into empty skies, the pain only a hazy smog, invisible against the darkened skies.
Characters: MC Crezentials, Skylar the Sheep, mentions of Clovis, Mei and 42nights.
I enjoy very much watching (or acting) Crez as a self-entitled guy who kind of loses it. Not sorry.
"No one ever believes me..." he muttered to the brown sheep, who baa'd and nibbled his hair. The rogue was sitting propped up against the wall, his tone bitter, his left hand clenched in a fist.
His right held a bottle that reeked strongly of alcohol. He occasionally took sips from it, disregarding the pounding headache.
"Skylar, why? Why doesn't even Clovis trust me?" Crez slammed his fist into the grass, sinking it into the soft dirt. He laughed harshly.
"Then again, I did almost kill her, and the damned scientist did help her... Am I being too judgemental? Selfish?" He took another swig of the berry colored liquid, and coughed.
"How do I know what's real?" 42nights' words rolled through his mind, about Cameo, about himself. He wasn't hating her without reason. And yet everyone told him that he was being childish, and followed his foe into the depths of the night...
"Damnit!" He swore, his eyes flashing black for an instant as his energy jumped at his anger. Then frustration. And then more laughter.
"You're just as bad, you fool. And yet you hark on her-"
"But I'm not. I'm doing something for the greater good-"
He cut himself off. He felt the presence, clear as day, on his shoulders.
"I know!" he screamed, as Skylar looked up in surprise. "I know, I know, I don't need you to keep reminding me! If I bloody force them though, then my words will become nothing!"
"I didn't ask for this." Tears streamed down his eyes as he hiccuped. "I'm too weak to do anything but then I'll be too strong if I do something... didn't you see when I brought the coyote back?"
No response, except Skylar shuffled back over, nuzzling the denizen's face and licking his tears. He wrapped his arms around the sheep, ignoring the prickly edges of its wool and sobbed. The presence left as quietly as it had appeared.
He didn't move from his position. He continued to cry, until his breathing slowed and he drifted off to sleep, the sheep curled up next to him.
I seriously am stuck in the realm of "writing about yourself but not about yourself but rather a character based off yourself but not you"
well. I'm not gonna label this I'll do it later
Characters: Crezentials (MC)
He walked slowly. He was tired. There was a limit on how much he could take, and he had already broken it thrice.
Blood dripped steadily from his side. It was red, bright red, the color of bruised cherries, but in the shadows of the trees it gleamed an empty black.
It hurt. The crisscrosses on his arms wept streams, but he didn't have anything for it. Or so he told himself, as he unsteadily approached the edge of the pool.
It was the endless void, the starry nothingness. He had found it years ago, a tribute or a shrine to some unknown being. Already he could feel it tugging, calling. The grass next to is gleamed with an offset glow, lush yet empty. He knelt, teetering dangerously.
It burned. He always hated the pain. It drove knives into his mind like the insistent droning of bees, and his body would refuse to cooperate, refusing his advances to survive.
He closed his emerald green eyes and decided to cheat just once. Just once.
Silvery tendrils reached out softly, coiling around the polished bangles on his wrists. The fingers responded in turn, jumping in half twitches as the Void crept silently towards his wounds.
It was cold, but not uncomfortably so. And yet, something in his mind flashed and he pulled away from the soothing chill. He couldn't do this. Not yet. Not now.
His side screamed as he staggered up, almost falling over. To start now would be the start of the return, and he was far too curious for that. Some part of him might have laughed if he wasn't so wounded.
"Come on," he muttered through gritted teeth. "You've survived worse, far worse..." An involuntary shudder went through his shoulders. He could hear it calling, a worrying mother, promising, singing.
Warnings: Scientific experiments and someone gets eaten.
Characters: Crezentials (MC) (Basically me damnit)
Basically I decided that if I ever become famous (I'm joking by the way) I want to be associated with a carnivore sheep because, well, sheep (I'm not joking for that part).
"And you'll be working with subject GL-14. Its characteristics and traits are listed here. Good day."
Crezentials mumbled a thank you as the iron door slammed shut ominously. The room was furnished sparingly; a simple table with a clipboard and chair sat in the middle, food and dish dispensers were installed into the metal walls, and two other doors stood closed.
He walked over to the table, picked up the clipboard, and sat down. Attached to it was a manilla folder, whose contents included sheets of paper, a pencil, and several files on the subject. Crez shrugged, and started reading; after all, it took him a long time to get here, and it was better knowing what he was going to deal with beforehand.
--
The doorhandle clicked as he turned it, opening it into another room, this time wider than the one he was supposed to stay in. Half of it held grass, with a single brown being wandering aimlessly in it.
"Hello there, GL... 15? 14? I forget. I suppose you're hungry? Maybe?" Crez carefully withdrew a paper wrapped package, and watched the sheep freeze, then suddenly hurtle itself over.
Even though he had read up on the sheep's speed, Crezentials still flinched a bit when it flung itself into the fence, the links rattling. It started baaing when the labcoat decked man didn't move.
"All...right. Uhm, here." He quickly unwrapped the paper and tossed the meat to the sheep, who bounced and went after it.
"If you took out the meat eating part it's kind of adorable..." Crez muttered to himself, running a hand through his messy hair, and then gagged. "I...shouldn't have done that." He watched the sheep eating, then leaned over the fence. A hand reached out, only to have it dart back as the snick of teeth replaced where his hand was.
"Whoa, you're a feisty one." The sheep baa'd, seemingly giving him a death glare, then returned to its meal.
Over the course of the next few weeks, the reaction would generally be the same. The sheep would baa, headbutt the fence, and attempt to snap his fingers off. He would write down observations of the elixir's effects, noting that the sheep's wool was seemingly becoming brittle. But there was no way to test it, since the sheep would always try to bite him.
At one point he decided to start calling it Skylar, even though its wool was more of a earthly color than one of a high, arching sky.
"Hello Skylar," he would cheerfully say, "you hungry?"
"Skylar, I really need you to let me take a look at your... hair." Snick. "Er, alright then..."
He noted down that Skylar preferred pork, then erased the name and replaced it with GL-14.
Still hostile. The wool's taken on a metallic tint though.
Still hostile. From the way the grass is shredded, Skylar GL-14 has been rolling around in the grass.
Days passed. Then one day, he decided to do something completely out of safety procedures.
"Hello there, Skylar. Hungry?" The sheep looked up to Crez carefully balancing a slab of pork on his hand. It trotted over quickly, and started sniffing it. He braced himself. What am I doing?, he thought, I could lose my hand to a dang sheep. Just as he was about to back out, the sheep tugged off the meat from his hand and set it on the ground.
Crez was speechless. "Uhm, does that mean I can touch you?" The sheep gave no indication of understanding and simply continued eating. He tentatively reached out a hand, then patted the wool. "Oh, it has become copper..." he noted.
Suddenly the sheep whirled around and nipped his fingers hard. Crez swore and quickly jumped back. Fortunately, the sheep hadn't bit hard enough to break any skin, and all his fingers were still intact. "That, was bloody close."
The sheep merely headbutted the fence and huffed.
Still hostile, but allows contact. The wool has turned into an odd alloy of copper and some other metal. Sent results to the S department.
Still aggressive, but responds to calls even without meals. Allows contact, with some nipping.
Three and a half months had passed. Crez stared at the iron door, and mumbled something under his breath. He took out a simple flint and steel rig, one that would spark when thrown against the ground. Then he sauntered towards department N, taking note of the scientists scuttling around in the bright, iron clad hallway. At the department, he carefully navigated around stacks of burning netherrack, simmering pots of dust, and glowing fragments of glowstone. The room was filled with the clacking of pens and whirrs of machines, while the dully gleaming floor was covered with a thin sheen of nether dust. It was lit brightly by lamps hung from thick, iron pillars, of which Crez knew contained redstone wiring connected to one system. He casually followed another scientist through a iron door, pretending to study the rows of netherwart housed in the room, while slowly making his way to the back of the room.
A row of obsidian gleamed brightly in the eerie purple light emitted from several lit portals. Some of them were extinguished, covered with iron bars, but there was one where the bars were not properly installed. If hit with enough force, they would break, but the facility assumed that no one would be able to use the portal anyway, without being spotted, and the portal had been taken down from the other side. However, Crez wasn't planning to use the portal; he was simply going to light it. And by pretending to brush the hair out of his eyes, the fire device flew through the bars, then clicked.
The portal flickered on, and people stopped, some rushing to turn it off. but they weren't prepared for a sudden onslaught of pigmen exploding from the portal, their force crushing open the bars. People started screaming, lasers were fired, and footsteps echoed throughout the hall. In the midst of all the chaos, a group of darkly clothed figures stepped out from the portal. One ran off, as pigmen continued to stream out of the portal, charging their aggressors. Soon, the lights started flickering and went out, as alarms rang out throughout the hall.
"Good job," one figure said to Crez, who nodded and tossed the empty spray bottle to the speaker. "Alright, you four head down head as planned, while you three manage the grid lock. Everyone else, do as instructed."
"Hey," said one of the figures and approached Crez, handing him a pistol.
"Oh, hello Halex. Not on the parkour team?"
"Nah," he said sullenly, "they wanted to give some newbie a try. Oh well. Let's go."
---
The hallways were blaring with the sound of alarms, with an occasional scream echoing as someone got gunned down by random turrets scattered through the facility. Crez and Halex kept close to the wall, watching for upcoming passerby. Finally, they reached what had been Crez's room.
Inside, it was dark as the power had been rerouted to other, more important functions. Crez pointed to a chest full of random sheets of paper, and Halex started stuffing the papers into a bag he had brought.
"I'm going to see if I can get something else..." Crez whispered, and opened the door to Skylar's pen. It was dark in there as well, and Crez waited for his eyes to adjust well enough to pick up on the sheep's silhouette.
"Heya Skylar, want to come with me?" The sheep baa'd as Crez unlocked the door, with a leash in hand. It was the first time he had ever let out the sheep, and he wasn't sure how it would react.
Suddenly, there was a click, and arms grasped around his neck. Crezentials flailed, then managed to jab an elbow into his assailant's stomach, who oofed and let go. Crez rolled, gasping, as he tried to pick out the attacker. It was another scientist, but armed with a knife. As he processed the information, the foe leapt at him, slamming his head into the ground. He tried to get his opponent off of him, but the scientist was quick to stab him right in the arm. Crezentials screamed as ice cold blade drove in. It burned with a freezing fire, and with one arm incapacitated he could not push the scientist off.
The worker laughed. "You fucking little bastard. We gave you all the access to knowledge needed, and yet you repay us like this?"
"Y-your place took too much of p-people's stuff." He never liked unnecessary pain. It demanded too much out of him. His foe laughed again.
"They're dimwits. They should be glad that we're developing products for them. And oh, I guess you didn't know but subject GL-14's trained to obey commands." In the darkness, Crez saw a flash of a grin. "GL-14, consume."
Oh, damnit Skylar, Crez thought, and closed his eyes bracing for the worst. But there was a scream that was not his own, and his eyelids fluttered open as the weight on his chest was quickly brushed off.
"NO, no, no!" The voice kept screaming, yelling, as the sheep tore into them. Crez's insides turned and he staggered up and left the room, the iron door clicking shut as the soundproof room contained the cries. He could still smell blood, his own, and he retched into the chest repeatedly, trying to clear his mind. After a while, he shakily headed over to the other door. When he tugged it open, out jumped a dazed Halex, with a cut across a cheek.
"Crez! You're alright! The damned bastard was waiting for someone to open the door and they locked me inside...where is- oh, injury." Halex quickly started treating the wound, as Crezentials winced.
"Ah, uhm, they're kind of dead now."
Halex was taken aback. "But you're terrible at killing people!"
"Hey, that's not true! I'm not THAT bad at fighting. But, er, it wasn't me. They, kind of got eaten," Crez trailed off, looking at the door.
"Oh," said his partner, "well, we should be...going back soon..." Finishing up the application of first aid, Halex turned to leave, but a hand stopped him. "Wait, I can't just leave Skylar here! Who knows what they'll do..."
"Crezentials. He's. A. Man-eating. Sheep."
"She. Skylar could be a she, I don't know, I don't really know how to identify animals- and yeah, she or he did eat someone but I promise Skylar's pretty chill most of the time. And I'll leash him or her okay?"
"Fine, Crez, but it's not going to be your decision if he or she reacts oddly."
Crezentials beamed at Halex and tiptoed over to the door, slowly pushing it open. The room was still dark, and the smell of blood clogged his nostils. He tried not to recall the fact that the sheep had just...dismantled someone. "Skylar?"
A baa echoed and something wet bumped his hand, making him topple over in panic. Halex whipped out a bow and pointed it past Crez's head as the sheep trotted onto Crez's chest and headbutted him.
"Ow." Crezentials deftly clipped the leash to its collar, noticing that the sheep's muzzle was scarlet. He felt sick and pushed the sheep off, trying to keep the feeling down. Skylar simply walked over to Halex and sniffed him, as his caretaker stood up.
"I feel like the sheep's studying me Crez."
"Well, Skylar's pretty smart. Aren't you, Skylar?" Crezentials chuckled nervously, as the sheep tugged at the leash, ready to go.
