[ the vine around his leg is cut off, but the one around his arm tightens, winding around it until it's hard to move. it's enough to get a slice into the one around his neck, to weaken it.
but if he runs with the one around his arm, he'll feel the strain of it in his shoulder. he can keep going, can follow the familiar call onwards - but there's a cost to every choice you make, owner.
have you given it some thought?
the flowers in the trees, on the hearts of the damned, twinkle like starlight in the dark depths of the gardens, and the wind continues to whistle as if leading him onwards.
not that a name will fix anything when all you are is nothingness
[ he knows, and he tries to will his mind to go into silence as he keeps trying to move forward. he can't get the vine off of his arm-- fine. owner decides he does not need an arm, so he keeps moving, even as the plant wraps around the limb.
does this stupid planet think this can stop him? owner has known failure, and he has been late, but he will still get there in the end. he will see him. that is the one thing he refuses to budge out, to not be there at the conclusion of it all, every time.
he continues to try to fight off any other vines that try to go after him, while trying to ignore the pain in his arm as he goes. this is nothing. he can keep going. this is all nothing. keep going, he has to reach his goal at some point as long as he does not stop moving. ]
[ the price is paid, as it always is. owner knows far better than most, in all these many years.
the strain turns into a pop of bone in the socket, and then the burn of tearing ligaments, before it is the tearing of flesh, of a vessel that has been nothing but useless meat for the past two weeks.
the blood red of his outfit is stained a deeper red, and the sleeve tears like nothing as the arm is left behind. thorns have cut into his skin - his leg, up towards his shoulder where the arm once was, around his neck - but it's trivial in the face of determination.
ahead, there is a light. it's deceptively soft, but he'll be able to feel the Otherness coming from it the same as he'll feel a call. something reaching out to him, trying to draw him in. ]
[ when the arm rips off, there is a relieved thought of finally, because that vine was really slowing him down, and the shock of losing limbs is not unfamiliar to him. the pain is there, screaming throughout his body, burning like the pollen had been in his lungs, but the sensation is something he knows so well that it lets owner keep going. sort of like greeting an old friend, in a twisted way.
there is a thought that runs through his head-- this might be some kind of trap, he could be running into an even worse problem than what's already around him. it's a little too late to have doubts now, though, so owner continues to press on, trying so hard to reach what's waiting out there as his blood trails behind him. he thinks about fixing the arm problem, but decides to hold off on it for now just in case he needs to conserve his energy for something else. it's fine. who needs blood!! not him!!!
the light... is yellow, a sweet and simple yellow. and it's in the center of a writhing mass of vines and thorns, the gaps where they don't overlap letting it peek out. the whistling is coming from within, a sound of longing, now, as the wind slips through every fold and over hidden bones.
so close to the epicenter, it's like being close to the eye of a hurricane. the temperature has dropped, and the vines are even more aggressive.
there's not much else to do but keep going, as always. he takes in the sight of it all, only pausing long enough to try to figure out where there might be more of a gap in the mess so that he can run towards that spot in particular, if it exists.
middle of the road luck means that there's a path, but at another cost. the vines are barbed and lethal, and as he throws himself into the fray of them, the beautiful outfit that he donned is shredded up along his arm, his torso, his legs. he has to hold onto the sword to be able to keep it, as he's thrown into a veritable blender.
but then
it's just quiet.
him, and the glow, and the faint whistling of sasaki's bones. trapped inside the vortex of green and death. ]
[ damn really hoping everyone else is having a neat time
at first, he tries to regenerate some of the injuries when it starts to get a bit too much, allowing skin to reform and stitch back together, but once he realizes that the same healed skin will just get cut by more thorns, he gives up the idea. that's okay. he think about his injuries later, when he has the time to spare for it all.
but then it's quiet. and honestly, there really isn't much that gets owner to falter. he has been alive for more years imaginable, and he has seen empires rise and fall and be replaced by others that also rise and fall. but one thing that always does is that boy, and he can't help but look around in a too desperate attempt to find the source of the whistling.
sasaki's bones are just that - there is no head in sight, no flesh, just that familiar torso that you would recognize across years, decades, centuries. it's wrapped up in vines, barely suspended above the ground, and that's where the glow comes from.
line the vines grew into the bones, wove their way through, and allowed a luxurious flower to grow and blossom within the cradle of his ribcage. ]
[ the tone is chipper, and since he is alone here, he allows the warmth to seep through, a gentle fondness that stands contradictory to his existence. as if they just bumped into each other on the street, and not in the eye of a hurricane. as if the last time owner had seen sasaki, it was when he had his hands wrapped around his neck.
but that doesn't matter right now.
he will hobble over, ignoring the pain that each step strikes him with, until he is close enough to touch the curious sight. and he does. owner drops the sword unceremoniously onto the ground, and he reaches out to place a hand onto the familiar bones. he lets his fingers trace over the ribcage, leaving traces of his own blood on the bone. they go well together, he thinks. ]
I seem to be late again, hm? I'll have to find a nice spot to bury you, my friend.
[ there's a pause, and he will reach through the bones to grab onto the flower. ]
[ like warm honey, the sensation of want and beckoning and wholeness pours over owner's fingers and up his intact arm. it oozes all the way into his core, seeking to fill all the empty parts of him. welcoming him to accept what it has to offer him.
unity. belonging. it has all the world to give, if only he would return its embrace and join this world that it has to offer him.
sasaki has nothing to say to him, like this. the whistling of his bones is the only answer that owner has, but his blood is beautiful and stark against the white of his rib bones.
inside of them, the flower petals are delicate, thick with pollen. ]
[ me, oocly: huh this flower is kinda fucked up owner, icly: huh this flower is kinda fucked up
the sensation is-- unexpected, but at this point, literally what part of this mission has been expected. and it's pleasant, almost soothing in a way, to listen to its call. somewhere to belong, with the world, and everyone else here.
of course, it's all a lie though. just looking around at the devastation here, and at the bones in front of him, is enough to prove that. ]
Ah, I wish I could have learned more about you... this place must have so many secrets.
[ yeah it's kinda fucked up! the lorax's stache... who could have done this...
there's a flare of warmth, when he speaks, before it starts to turn molten hot when his fingers curl. the gentle welcome lashes out the moment that it seems to realize what's happening - but it's too late. owner crushes it in his hand, feels a hard, stone-like (unless..?) pit, a seed, at its center.
crushing the flower is enough, though. the whistling through the bones has stopped, before the entire eye of the storm convulses.
and then, abruptly, the winding vines come crashing inwards in something reminiscent of an implosion with owner at the center of it. the pressure of the vines, the stabbing thorns, come crashing down upon him and sasaki's bones. the overgrowth grinds together as it trying to compact itself as tightly as possible, bringing him with them.
at least you'll be here together with him again. ]
[ well, this is fine. this is also a top tier final utena episode moment actually so thank you
a few thoughts run through owner's mind very quickly, so fast that they sort of blur into each other, but they are as follows:
the first, is that he realizes the others do not know where he is. some of they might have seen him run into the garden, but he would not be surprised if they missed it because of how chaotic it had been. even if they did see, they wouldn't know where he went in there. and with a missing arm, and the other hand holding onto this seed as everything forms around him, he realizes he probably missed his chance to see anything into the earpiece. he isn't even sure if he can speak, with the vines twisting everywhere.
the second is that he wonders where rei went, and if he managed to get out safely. it's a silly thought, he's aware, because like temenos said, there is a good chance that was some sort of trick. after all, rei just very recently lost half a leg, partly due to owner's meddling with his family affairs. and there is always the chance he somehow got it back, or some sort of replacement, but... in case rei didn't manage to escape, it is better to imagine that it wasn't real.
the third, and the most overpowering, is the pain. there is nothing that doesn't hurt. and he is used to agony, he is used to being ripped apart and his bones shattering and the sensation of having to reform every tissue and muscle and organ to put himself back together again, but that's when he is at his full capacity in power. now, it's just a fleeting connection to it that comes and goes, and while her extraordinary strength is the only reason he managed to get this far, it's currently not doing enough.
and, last, is the content feeling of having sasaki's bones pressed against him, because sometimes you can find solace in the smallest of things as you are crushed. ]
[ it's like a warm embrace, as the light of the flower dies out and the energy of the gardens, of verdure, is released. sasaki's bones are crushed into owner's chest, his arm, and it's like the first time all over again - sasaki, alone in the woods, hiding away from the world to hide his secret from those that would see him a monster.
but what a splendid thing he's always been.
the vines twist, winding together like the snakes that have been sent after you time and time again. but they also twist and grind your body and the bones, warping parts of your flesh in different directions and tearing into it. pulling your bones apart from joints.
the last, wonderful thought you get to have is that you will be together again with sasaki, entombed with him in the forest, side by side. your crimson blood on his white bones.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
but if he runs with the one around his arm, he'll feel the strain of it in his shoulder. he can keep going, can follow the familiar call onwards - but there's a cost to every choice you make, owner.
have you given it some thought?
the flowers in the trees, on the hearts of the damned, twinkle like starlight in the dark depths of the gardens, and the wind continues to whistle as if leading him onwards.
not that a name will fix anything when all you are is nothingness
you won't reach him
you'll be too late too late too late again
embrace the nothing that you are ]
no subject
[ he knows, and he tries to will his mind to go into silence as he keeps trying to move forward. he can't get the vine off of his arm-- fine. owner decides he does not need an arm, so he keeps moving, even as the plant wraps around the limb.
does this stupid planet think this can stop him? owner has known failure, and he has been late, but he will still get there in the end. he will see him. that is the one thing he refuses to budge out, to not be there at the conclusion of it all, every time.
he continues to try to fight off any other vines that try to go after him, while trying to ignore the pain in his arm as he goes. this is nothing. he can keep going. this is all nothing. keep going, he has to reach his goal at some point as long as he does not stop moving. ]
no subject
the strain turns into a pop of bone in the socket, and then the burn of tearing ligaments, before it is the tearing of flesh, of a vessel that has been nothing but useless meat for the past two weeks.
the blood red of his outfit is stained a deeper red, and the sleeve tears like nothing as the arm is left behind. thorns have cut into his skin - his leg, up towards his shoulder where the arm once was, around his neck - but it's trivial in the face of determination.
ahead, there is a light. it's deceptively soft, but he'll be able to feel the Otherness coming from it the same as he'll feel a call. something reaching out to him, trying to draw him in. ]
no subject
there is a thought that runs through his head-- this might be some kind of trap, he could be running into an even worse problem than what's already around him. it's a little too late to have doubts now, though, so owner continues to press on, trying so hard to reach what's waiting out there as his blood trails behind him. he thinks about fixing the arm problem, but decides to hold off on it for now just in case he needs to conserve his energy for something else. it's fine. who needs blood!! not him!!!
what's that light ]
no subject
the light... is yellow, a sweet and simple yellow. and it's in the center of a writhing mass of vines and thorns, the gaps where they don't overlap letting it peek out. the whistling is coming from within, a sound of longing, now, as the wind slips through every fold and over hidden bones.
so close to the epicenter, it's like being close to the eye of a hurricane. the temperature has dropped, and the vines are even more aggressive.
roll to do some sick shit, or eat shit. ]
no subject
there's not much else to do but keep going, as always. he takes in the sight of it all, only pausing long enough to try to figure out where there might be more of a gap in the mess so that he can run towards that spot in particular, if it exists.
really just fuckin yolo ]
no subject
middle of the road luck means that there's a path, but at another cost. the vines are barbed and lethal, and as he throws himself into the fray of them, the beautiful outfit that he donned is shredded up along his arm, his torso, his legs. he has to hold onto the sword to be able to keep it, as he's thrown into a veritable blender.
but then
it's just quiet.
him, and the glow, and the faint whistling of sasaki's bones. trapped inside the vortex of green and death. ]
no subject
at first, he tries to regenerate some of the injuries when it starts to get a bit too much, allowing skin to reform and stitch back together, but once he realizes that the same healed skin will just get cut by more thorns, he gives up the idea. that's okay. he think about his injuries later, when he has the time to spare for it all.
but then it's quiet. and honestly, there really isn't much that gets owner to falter. he has been alive for more years imaginable, and he has seen empires rise and fall and be replaced by others that also rise and fall. but one thing that always does is that boy, and he can't help but look around in a too desperate attempt to find the source of the whistling.
wait. focus.
owner will try to go for the glow. ]
no subject
the glow and the whistling are in the same place.
the bad news?
sasaki's bones are just that - there is no head in sight, no flesh, just that familiar torso that you would recognize across years, decades, centuries. it's wrapped up in vines, barely suspended above the ground, and that's where the glow comes from.
line the vines grew into the bones, wove their way through, and allowed a luxurious flower to grow and blossom within the cradle of his ribcage. ]
no subject
[ the tone is chipper, and since he is alone here, he allows the warmth to seep through, a gentle fondness that stands contradictory to his existence. as if they just bumped into each other on the street, and not in the eye of a hurricane. as if the last time owner had seen sasaki, it was when he had his hands wrapped around his neck.
but that doesn't matter right now.
he will hobble over, ignoring the pain that each step strikes him with, until he is close enough to touch the curious sight. and he does. owner drops the sword unceremoniously onto the ground, and he reaches out to place a hand onto the familiar bones. he lets his fingers trace over the ribcage, leaving traces of his own blood on the bone. they go well together, he thinks. ]
I seem to be late again, hm? I'll have to find a nice spot to bury you, my friend.
[ there's a pause, and he will reach through the bones to grab onto the flower. ]
no subject
unity. belonging. it has all the world to give, if only he would return its embrace and join this world that it has to offer him.
sasaki has nothing to say to him, like this. the whistling of his bones is the only answer that owner has, but his blood is beautiful and stark against the white of his rib bones.
inside of them, the flower petals are delicate, thick with pollen. ]
no subject
owner, icly: huh this flower is kinda fucked up
the sensation is-- unexpected, but at this point, literally what part of this mission has been expected. and it's pleasant, almost soothing in a way, to listen to its call. somewhere to belong, with the world, and everyone else here.
of course, it's all a lie though. just looking around at the devastation here, and at the bones in front of him, is enough to prove that. ]
Ah, I wish I could have learned more about you... this place must have so many secrets.
[ what a waste.
he crushes the flower in his fist.
(they never said they couldn't damage it.) ]
no subject
there's a flare of warmth, when he speaks, before it starts to turn molten hot when his fingers curl. the gentle welcome lashes out the moment that it seems to realize what's happening - but it's too late. owner crushes it in his hand, feels a hard, stone-like (unless..?) pit, a seed, at its center.
crushing the flower is enough, though. the whistling through the bones has stopped, before the entire eye of the storm convulses.
and then, abruptly, the winding vines come crashing inwards in something reminiscent of an implosion with owner at the center of it. the pressure of the vines, the stabbing thorns, come crashing down upon him and sasaki's bones. the overgrowth grinds together as it trying to compact itself as tightly as possible, bringing him with them.
at least you'll be here together with him again. ]
no subject
a few thoughts run through owner's mind very quickly, so fast that they sort of blur into each other, but they are as follows:
the first, is that he realizes the others do not know where he is. some of they might have seen him run into the garden, but he would not be surprised if they missed it because of how chaotic it had been. even if they did see, they wouldn't know where he went in there. and with a missing arm, and the other hand holding onto this seed as everything forms around him, he realizes he probably missed his chance to see anything into the earpiece. he isn't even sure if he can speak, with the vines twisting everywhere.
the second is that he wonders where rei went, and if he managed to get out safely. it's a silly thought, he's aware, because like temenos said, there is a good chance that was some sort of trick. after all, rei just very recently lost half a leg, partly due to owner's meddling with his family affairs. and there is always the chance he somehow got it back, or some sort of replacement, but... in case rei didn't manage to escape, it is better to imagine that it wasn't real.
the third, and the most overpowering, is the pain. there is nothing that doesn't hurt. and he is used to agony, he is used to being ripped apart and his bones shattering and the sensation of having to reform every tissue and muscle and organ to put himself back together again, but that's when he is at his full capacity in power. now, it's just a fleeting connection to it that comes and goes, and while her extraordinary strength is the only reason he managed to get this far, it's currently not doing enough.
and, last, is the content feeling of having sasaki's bones pressed against him, because sometimes you can find solace in the smallest of things as you are crushed. ]
no subject
but what a splendid thing he's always been.
the vines twist, winding together like the snakes that have been sent after you time and time again. but they also twist and grind your body and the bones, warping parts of your flesh in different directions and tearing into it. pulling your bones apart from joints.
the last, wonderful thought you get to have is that you will be together again with sasaki, entombed with him in the forest, side by side. your crimson blood on his white bones.
owner is dead. ]