a reminiscence - fleshspace au
i don't really post my writings so why not.
cw: blood and gore. its a horror au
Wisps of cigarette smoke snake up into the sky. An unfortunate habit, fed to him by cultists and the ache of stress, a privilege among all the misery. It's hardly a beacon to where he is, he's settled into that fact after a while of survival, but it feels like the outstretch of a desperate hand.
Desperate hands that they see every time their eyes shut.
Without sleep, dreams are almost lost to them, turnt to mere visions under the dark squeeze of their eyelids. Images of tainted bodies and pools of red. A figure of white light among it all. Every life in the universe is turned to face the holy image, silent pleas and hands reaching for the untouchable. Their crown of antlers and unmarred form are such a stark contrast to the horror of everything else. If he could rest, he wonders, what more would he see? The silent wailing of the damned thrums deep in his soul as he takes another breath of smoke.
Who is he to have such privilege? They hardly deserve it at all. Drawing blood in exchange for his talents. Keeping tabs on so many demons that each file only makes them feel more lost. They wonder if one day they will stop seeing everyone else as people, as they presume the gods did. Is that the purpose of the crystal? To bring down all divinity and replace it with it's own? Or perhaps it's simply a curse, as he has muttered to himself again and again, the price for tampering what shouldn't have been tampered with.
The figure of light shines under their eyelids again, and they swear they catch the scent of incense and a holy choir. Just like the inside of a church, but like the cult, it brings such little comfort. He holds onto that thread. Another piece either to mock him or warn him. And if it is a warning, it is one far too late for someone as damned as himself.
They found flesh growing in the caves under Blackrock. He and Subspace, being Biologists moving in the same circles, were unfortunately eager candidates to study the phenomenon. They remember their own caution and Subspace's lack of it. How the gore squelched underfoot, allowing blood to pool up for sampling. Then how it returned to itself as if nothing ever happened. It disturbed Medkit, but Subspace... Either she was accustomed to such a unnerving scene, or she was far too prone to the sway of the cave itself, they might never know the answer. But where he kept wandering deeper into the underground labyrinth, Medkit was convinced to follow.
All for their research. The deeper they go, they more they'll find for the betterment of Blackrock. He repeated as such in his head, again and again and again, trying to comfort themselves as the wetness of the cave sprawled across every ugly formation.
Time was lost to such a place. So long they wandered the darkness, and then... It blessed them with light. A pale crystal wrapped in veins, bright despite the blood caked across it's surface. They felt such an unnatural attraction to it, and while he tried to steel his mind, Subspace gave in to it. Gloves forgone, claws splitting apart it's gory wrappings, Subspace sought to take it in such an animalistic manner.
It horrified him then. It still horrifies him. He watches flesh start to sprawl and warp across the cavern, and all he can do is lunge forward to fight Subspace over it. They don't want to die here, not from this anomalous crystal in a labyrinth where no one will ever find their bodies to bury. They're both screaming. Medkit, Subspace, and the crystal that weeps silently as if it lives... And then shatters.
Whatever life such a jewel had, what it did, what it could do, it's lost forever. A shower of light sprays across the cavern, and he dies for just a moment.
When they open their eyes, they are far closer to the entrance of the caves, shaken up by concerned worker. Subspace isn't there, no, Medkit sees them again a few days later as if nothing ever happened. A shining teal crystal has wrapped itself about him, and a gleaming pink one has made Subspace it's own.
They recognize that now, that moment Subspace took her first step in the cave, was also the moment that she was beyond saving.
As if he ever even tried to.
He crushes what remains of the cigarette underfoot, wordlessly returning to the inner walls of his home. How ironic it is as he glances to the unconscious subject laid in such a shoddy bed, glancing over their file once and then twice. Ironic that he, a miracle healer, gets to partake in such an unhealthy habit.
Damn him again and again too for being immune to it's effects.
They groan, and prepare their tools for drawing blood. Another study for every medicine that hates is his destiny.