Chosen
@augustofwhump: Day 1 - brainwashing / heavy / overheating It is still August 1st for me so this is totally not late, and totally not rushed. Yanis (its/it) is one of my more unknown blorbos, but all you really need to know is that it is a cult leader in one of my more fantasy oriented worlds, and this is how it became its cult's herald. I hope you enjoy my addition to August of Whump! (Content Warnings: Cults, bad sensory stuff, toxic religious beliefs, implied abuse, a bit of cosmic horror, sensory deprivation, mindfuck? (just to be safe), and descriptions of vomiting. (Please tell me if I am forgetting anything,)) ---o0o---o0o--- He had been unworthy. His sins were too great. That was all that was said about the previous herald. If they even acknowledged his existence. You will be different. You are chosen. But even as Yanis approached the elevated platform, its heavy ceremonial robes dragging on the floor, Dead man’s clothes. Dead. Oh it could still see the dark spots where Veral coughed up the black bile- Poisonous fear still coiled in its gut. Despite whatever comforting whispers its fellow worshipers told it. On the center of the platform, just below a stalactite with dark roots wrapping around it, rose a pillar. About chest high with an ordinary looking wooden bowl perched on it, worn from the handling of many. So many. Ripples formed on the dark liquid within as another drop from the stalactite fell. It was lower than what Veral had to drink. For him it had nearly been overflowing. Perhaps him spilling the abyss’s essence did some good after all. A hand suddenly grabbed Yanis’s shoulder, ripping its gaze away from the bowl and spinning its view back out to the audience of worshipers. The hand belonged to Marrius, the head priest, who pinned it with a displeased glance even as he continued to make his speech. His fingers digging into its skin through the already weighing fabric. It couldn’t squirm away. Not with this many eyes on it. Looking out at the sea of black and grey robes, each person kneeling with their hands cupped in prayer to the abyss to consume their ailments, their sins, to be cleansed by it. Chanting words that felt like drums against its skull. Swallowing thickly, Yanis attempted to cut through the fuzz forming in its mind. Sweat was sticking to the back of its neck. Aggravating the scratch of the fabric and made worse by the hand still. Fixed. On. Its. Shoulder. It never did well with heat and all these bodies packed together in this cavern did little to assist the fact. Letting its eyes drift up to the cave’s ceiling, it traced the dark vines wrapping around the stalactites. Attempting to give itself something, anything, to distract from the boiling, screaming, under its skin. Pressing down the desire to cry, to run, to scream. To scratch and scratch at its flesh until nothing remained. Even as everything stacked up as far too much. Flinching when Marrius placed his other hand on Yanis’s other shoulder. It was jarred out of its stupor. Meeting his burning gaze, the silence was almost as deafening as the chanting. .. Right, Its part of the speech. Feelings his fingers dig into its shoulders, it could see the thousand eyes on it. Waiting, hawklike. Looking for any reason for if when this should fail, they would know exactly what to point their finger to. Trapped in place, Yanis wet its lips, struggling to think through the haze. Its blood rushing in its ears. The sound of its heart louder than its thoughts, drowning out reason until. Marrius dug his thumbs into the back of Yanis’s shoulders. Jolting, its mind scrambled until, finally. “Y-yes,” It finally struggled out, “I am honored and in awe. I will happily be, s-sacrificed to our ever changing lord. Joining the masses making up their f-form….. o-Or, Be the one to lead you. All of You. As the Abyss’s H-herald.” And then. Silence.
The sound of its fear afflicted breaths the only audible thing within the whole cavern. It had most certainly forgotten a part. A whole section. Misspoke entirely. Until Marrius gave a single displeased nod and almost dragged Yanis over to the bowl. The chanting kicking up even louder as he called, “A sacrifice needed for our god.” Sacrifice. Sacrifice. Not even a single consideration that Yanis could even become a herald. Though. If Veral, the best of the appointed had failed. Was it truly that surprising that it didn’t have a chance? And maybe then it is taken by its deity, its place would be beside Veral in their form. No matter what happened it would be for the benefit of the ever changing lord and their followers after all. They either grew in strength or gained a conduit.
Reaching out sweat slicked palms to pick up the rough wood, Marrius making sure that it had nowhere to run, Yanis slowly brought it up to its lips. Closing its eyes before draining the bowl.
The fluid was freezing. Almost a welcome chance to the heat if not for the fact that Yanis could hear itself falling. The sound of wood hitting stone rang through its head as the bowl slipped through its grasp.
Or was that its skull?
… The next gasp of air was cold. Far too cold. The biting kind that ran needles into your lungs and throat, convincing you that your organs were freezing as you breathed. It was back in its old clothes, short sleeved, light. Something made for running. Play. Work under the sun. But now far too exposed for the chill. Yanis blinked. Trying to open its eyes, but even as it did.Nothing came into sight. All that was there was expanding darkness. This was what its deity’s domain was like? Attempting to get up, it shifted itself upright. Hands almost sinking into a soft, watery substance as it did. Instinctively turning its head even as still nothing came into sight. Then, suddenly, something grabbed its arm. Letting out air but unable to produce a scream, Yanis jerked back. Pain shooting up its shoulder as it pulled, its feet slipping on the smooth ground. Though despite the struggle it couldn’t pull itself out of the freezing hand’s grip as even more appendages moved. The ground shifting, becoming more, Becoming alive. Slithering, sliding, coiling around its body. Watery and yet leaving no residue. Reaching human hands to its face, throat, arms. Legs, waist, ankles And then it was yanked. Pulled up by a mass of hands and limbs, until all sense of direction was lost. When Yanis returned to its senses, it was suspended. Stretched by limbs on all sides as if tied to a rack. Still feebly writhing in its grip. Shaking. Terrified. Each breath still feeling like a dagger to the lungs. So this was how death was? “Hardly.” And. Yanis. Thrashed. Something was splitting its mind, invading it. Twisting coils it never knew existed. Burning its nerves and rubbing the ashes into the leftovers. Like a thorn rampaged from the core of its brain and grew, shredding any matter in its wake. Pressing and Pressing until- Blood was trickling out of its nose. It could feel the warm substance drip down its face, taste the metallic tang it left. .. Perhaps out of its eyes as well. Given the wetness. So, it hung there. Still held. Its skull now throbbing like someone had run a hot iron through it. Left in the silence. Left to wait. Until the voice returned. “... You will do.” And for the second time that day Yanis woke up. Sucking in a lung full of air and opening their eyes to, the cavern. As a series of gasps rang out all around it. A pool of the abyss’s essence had formed around their fallen form, staining the grey robes black. And Yanis barely had time to orient itself before Marrius had jerked it up to its feet. A far too strained smile on his face at the sight of its survival. Lolling its head, Yanis wavered, head still in agony, reaching up to its face to find. No blood, but instead more essence staining it. Before finally looking up to meet the eyes of the thousand followers that had surrounded it. “It seems like our Deity has made a choice after all!” Marrius boomed, only adding to its headache as he shook it just a bit. “Mark this night as a new night. The Night where Herald Yanis was crowned by our Ever Changing Lord.” And as cheers erupted all around it, Yanis couldn’t help but shrink. Its blood, its bones. Now that it was standing, everything. It felt wrong. It felt stiff. Its vision swam as nausea built in its gut. Climbing and climbing up to where, Yanis found itself doubled over and retching. Bile and essence spilling from its throat and onto the stone. Then, It was falling again. The ground rushing up to meet it as the worshipers ran to catch their falling Herald.