antreegonist | [a heart.]

Entry tags:

hearts,
ic

[a heart.]

There's a moment of nothing but light and sensation. Someone's looking you over and the scrutiny prickles and burns – it's nearly a physical pain, like fine little hooks digging past your skin, into the very meat of you. I know who you are, it says, and I know what you are, and that you don't have any business here --

“But you do,” says Mithos behind you. He's a tired, steady voice in your ear, a light hand on your shoulder. “I don't know what Dream's thinking, but everyone is welcome here in my heart; just keep in mind it's a real mess right now.”

Your vision clears.

((assume your characters wandered in here through a dream. also join #ihateyouihateyouiwanttocuddle on irc if you can!))

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[summoning his keyblade and casting Cure then!]

He sighs a little, closing his eyes under the wash of magic; the gashes knit together slowly, leaving fresh scars.

[dismissing his keyblade and looking down at those scars]

Are you...going to be okay?

"Yeah . . . I'm a sight to look at, huh. Don't worry. Most of these were from a bad old shape."

And marks on the heart...stay longer than marks on the body...

[reaching out a bit, offering hugs]

"Sometimes they stay forever."

He hugs you, warm and secure. He feels like old, old strength.

[the best hugs]

Need any help here?

"This place wasn't touched . . . but someone understanding, taking the time to look, that always adds power to it."

[nods]

It feels...like a pretty amazing place.

[and gradually reluctantly unhugging so he can take a better look around, he got pretty immediately distracted by hurt Mithos]

Nothing's changed: there's the rimmed pool of ick, the channels of water and blood, and the objects in the tree fountain if you'd notice those.

[yeah, taking a closer look at those objects before contemplating the pool of ick]

A scrap of sharp-edged broken glass, like a tiny lightning bolt.

A round, dull grey stone that's been cracked through the middle.

A large knot of thick black cord.

An apple.

A small crystal bird with the wings snapped off.

[not reaching for them yet, just dipping his fingertips in the silvery stuff--does this basin feel the same too?]

Yes, it does.

[gently petting the crystal bird with a fingertip then]

A confused memory of falling -- is it into a black abyss, or away from a horribly high, steep cliff? Your wings don't work the air won't lift you when you grab at it with your magic you don't understand --

It ends just before you hit the ground.

[going very still with a startled little noise, clutching the edge of the fountain with his other hand]

[and then very deliberately steadying himself, holding his hand still so he doesn't ding the crystal. processinggggg.]

[taking a deep breath and very gently touching the knot of black cord. like somebody who's maybe starting to get it but needs to see more to figure it out.]

A much steadier, clearer memory. You're in a small stone room. There is one window with a narrow, railless balcony. Through it you can see Beauty's forest, the statues at its edge, a cloud looming. You're talking to Beauty, your heart hammering -- you're afraid, angry, determined.

"I told you once I didn't mind being used by you. And I'll live by the name you gave me -- that you'll push through to do what has to be done, even as you wait. But . . ."

"I can't --" she says, very faint.

"Not even stories can bind you forever, or us. Not even roles. This will have to change. It will all have to change. I have faith that you'll help when that time comes."

The dark cloud streams through the window and touches your flesh. You begin to blister and freeze. You feel like you're being pulled in a thousand different directions -- it hurts --

The memory ends.

[another shudder running through him, that is an all too familiar sensation. but his conversation with Aurora is what he's pinging all over here]

...when the time comes...

[withdrawing his hand from the fountain and taking a deep, slow breath, turning to look around the area again. gosh. death.]

That . . . sure is an impossibly huge number of fountains.

[only as many as I had keyblades once]

[g...give him a moment. because what's awing him isn't the number, it's the fact that every one is flowing with that same strength and determination]

[you are incredible, Mithos]

Couldn't have done it without everyone in Aather, really.

[after a few long moments, approaching the pool of ick for a closer look. not touching it, but dipping fingertips into one of the streams of water running out from it, simply trying to understand]

The water feels like cool purpose, the drive to do things and make change.

[touching the blood now]

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