[Don't worry about your emotion bars, they're not important right now.
However your confrontation with the False Apple ends-- successful or not, dead or not-- you've felt something from it since you engaged with it. A strange sort of resonance, as if from something you're somehow attuned to, drawn to, that now grows stronger. Overwhelming, almost blinding.
You blink. When you open your eyes, you're standing on a battlefield, just long enough to see it, but not long enough to speak with each other... because after a flash of golden light blinds you for real, forcing your eyes closed against the shine of it--
You open your eyes again, and you're somewhere else.
[You open your eyes in a plain, locked room, the walls painted blue. This doesn't feel like you, for a moment, like you don't belong here, but then the sensation settles.
Of course you would be here. That's Claude in the room with you, after all, in a formal navy outfit, standing behind a few individuals in white coats. Just watching with interest, right now.
The procedures have been a success. They've said so. Recovery time in teenaged subjects is truly remarkable, evidently. They never said what they were going to be for, but you found out once they were over-- it's impossible to ignore your new arm, after all. To you, it's like you just woke up with this one day, but to all of them it's just a step in a plan.
"-hasn't been responsive," one researcher is saying to another.
"Come on. It should be able to move just like your old one, now. Just try."
[of... of course. yes, this is where she's supposed to be.
it takes throné a second to reorient. claude immediately puts her on edge, and she straightens, instinctively. stares right at him. she doesn't break that gaze even as the researchers talk to her. give it a try, they say. she doesn't look. she doesn't look, she has to keep her eye on him.
but she's obedient. yes, father.
... she moves her arm. rolls it. tries to wiggle her fingers.]
[She can move her arm, sure, but she tries to wiggle her fingers-
Which is when she realizes she doesn't exactly have them.
The bug arm is familiar (why? That's weird), but it's utterly foreign to her at the same time. It moves when she tries to lift her arm. The tip of its scythelike end twitches when she tries to move her fingers. But is that really-- attached to her?
"Very good," one of them says. Her father's expression does not change.]
this is what gets her gaze to break. she looks away from claude and down at her arm, and stares. moves it. it twitches. it's not her hand, it's not her arm, it's not her hand -- panic rises up in her throat. they said the procedure was a success, is this what they meant? a beat.]
I don't want this.
[it's out of her mouth before she can stop herself.]
[a gift. you have a gift, throne. you have a gift and you will learn how to use it, or else.
she swallows hard. something in her aches, but.]
... No, sir. [she says, even though something in her resists and writhes and screams at the thought of it. at the thought of calling him sir. it's not right? it isn't, but it is. he is father and Father and he isn't. sometimes she gets the two mixed up in her head.
she doesn't argue, but she's waiting. she's watching.]
Something resists, screams inside her, but... it probably would've broken down and had to give in eventually even if she tried. Right? There's nothing else to do. There's no other way out or forward. No other way to end what feels like a nightmare.
"Go ahead and begin testing," he directs them, and they nod.
They hold an apple dangling from a string before her. All she needs to do, they inform her, is reach out and pierce it with her arm.]
[there's nothing else to do. she will never be free.
she is very, very still, watching them like a predatory animal, close to baring her teeth. like a snake, rattling, showing off its colors. they hold out an apple, and she reaches out. she tries to pierce it.]
[She reaches out with the intent to pierce it, and once more, her arm responds-- but probably not how she expects. It whips forward at the end, the shape of it changing in order to stab right through the core of that apple; they murmur and take notes, as her father nods.
None of them are paying any attention to how she might feel about watching this happen.]
[she doesn't. she doesn't want to, right, she doesn't, she doesn't hurt people. she doesn't want to hurt people, she never has - she doesn't want to lick the blood off her fingers, she doesn't want to crave it.
but right now. right now, she wants to be free. she wants out.
so she shoots forward, and tries to pierce a researcher right through the heart.]
[When she shoots forward and pierces them-- they bleed, yes, but something almost seems to shift around them. Like doing this almost, but not quite, breaks something.
The other researcher shouts in alarm, backing away. Her father still wears an unpleasant smile.
"I wasn't going to try you on living targets just yet, but... no real loss."]
[You open your eyes somewhere in the Backstreets, in an unidentified but run-down location. This doesn't feel like you at first, like you don't belong in this space, but the feeling settles; no, this is you after all.
It's been rough, after the war. There's nowhere for anyone on the losing side to go anymore, the corporations dissolved, their employees shunned; it was a waste of years, in that sense, working and fighting and seeing your comrades all around you die for... no reason, in the end. What was all that worth? A corporate changeover, back to life as normal for everyone else, and for the rest of you-- nothing.
You're luckier than the rest. Others can still identify you as being from the old Corp, but you don't share the most obvious common mutations, so it's easier to live without being immediately shut out of everywhere you try to go like the rest are. You know they hate you for it.
You know she hates you for it. Delilah couldn't put up with it. You're not sure where she disappeared to, if she's survived after the fall, one of the many experiments they used and then tossed aside.
A man stands across from you, in a navy outfit. The one in charge of it all, who used you both, who you've never managed to kill.
[ life is there. there really is nothing else. no past. no future. nothing.
the tiniest thread of hope, of that fleeting catharsis sure is tempting. one repreive, no matter how brief, is going to be a welcome respite from the neverending hell this dump is.
she lunges. if she can get him down, pinned, whatever- she can leverage her arm against his throat and squeeze the life out of him. ]
[When you open your eyes, you don't feel quite like yourself... but then the sensation clears. No, this is you. This is correct.
You're standing before an imposing set of office double doors, wearing a blue uniform. The war isn't going well for your side. You've all sort of been able to tell... but what choice do you have but to keep fighting it, when those are the orders? What choice do you have but to keep taking lives in a futile effort like this one? If they won't call a stop to it, if they're content to keep throwing their employees' lives and futures away, then--
That's all there is to do. It's not like anyone can change it.
You have a feeling you know who will be behind these doors, if you open them.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
interlude.
However your confrontation with the False Apple ends-- successful or not, dead or not-- you've felt something from it since you engaged with it. A strange sort of resonance, as if from something you're somehow attuned to, drawn to, that now grows stronger. Overwhelming, almost blinding.
You blink. When you open your eyes, you're standing on a battlefield, just long enough to see it, but not long enough to speak with each other... because after a flash of golden light blinds you for real, forcing your eyes closed against the shine of it--
You open your eyes again, and you're somewhere else.
Stay tuned for toplevels.]
throné.
Of course you would be here. That's Claude in the room with you, after all, in a formal navy outfit, standing behind a few individuals in white coats. Just watching with interest, right now.
The procedures have been a success. They've said so. Recovery time in teenaged subjects is truly remarkable, evidently. They never said what they were going to be for, but you found out once they were over-- it's impossible to ignore your new arm, after all. To you, it's like you just woke up with this one day, but to all of them it's just a step in a plan.
"-hasn't been responsive," one researcher is saying to another.
"Come on. It should be able to move just like your old one, now. Just try."
From behind them, his eyes stay fixed on you.]
no subject
it takes throné a second to reorient. claude immediately puts her on edge, and she straightens, instinctively. stares right at him. she doesn't break that gaze even as the researchers talk to her. give it a try, they say. she doesn't look. she doesn't look, she has to keep her eye on him.
but she's obedient. yes, father.
... she moves her arm. rolls it. tries to wiggle her fingers.]
no subject
Which is when she realizes she doesn't exactly have them.
The bug arm is familiar (why? That's weird), but it's utterly foreign to her at the same time. It moves when she tries to lift her arm. The tip of its scythelike end twitches when she tries to move her fingers. But is that really-- attached to her?
"Very good," one of them says. Her father's expression does not change.]
no subject
this is what gets her gaze to break. she looks away from claude and down at her arm, and stares. moves it. it twitches. it's not her hand, it's not her arm, it's not her hand -- panic rises up in her throat. they said the procedure was a success, is this what they meant? a beat.]
I don't want this.
[it's out of her mouth before she can stop herself.]
no subject
It doesn't matter if she never asked for this, never wanted it. His smile is sharp when he continues.
"Surely you wouldn't want to reject a gift, anyway?"]
no subject
she swallows hard. something in her aches, but.]
... No, sir. [she says, even though something in her resists and writhes and screams at the thought of it. at the thought of calling him sir. it's not right? it isn't, but it is. he is father and Father and he isn't. sometimes she gets the two mixed up in her head.
she doesn't argue, but she's waiting. she's watching.]
no subject
Something resists, screams inside her, but... it probably would've broken down and had to give in eventually even if she tried. Right? There's nothing else to do. There's no other way out or forward. No other way to end what feels like a nightmare.
"Go ahead and begin testing," he directs them, and they nod.
They hold an apple dangling from a string before her. All she needs to do, they inform her, is reach out and pierce it with her arm.]
no subject
she is very, very still, watching them like a predatory animal, close to baring her teeth. like a snake, rattling, showing off its colors. they hold out an apple, and she reaches out. she tries to pierce it.]
no subject
None of them are paying any attention to how she might feel about watching this happen.]
no subject
they murmur. they take notes. she thinks about what it would be like to pierce them with the arm. take notes on that, you bastards.
she stares at claude.]
no subject
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but right now. right now, she wants to be free. she wants out.
so she shoots forward, and tries to pierce a researcher right through the heart.]
no subject
The other researcher shouts in alarm, backing away. Her father still wears an unpleasant smile.
"I wasn't going to try you on living targets just yet, but... no real loss."]
no subject
a sharpened knife. a tool. how does it feel to cut through my flesh? does it feel like your hands were destined for this?
she takes a step away, back. brings the arm up to her own chest, like she's going to - like she's going to...
she doesn't.]
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baiken.
It's been rough, after the war. There's nowhere for anyone on the losing side to go anymore, the corporations dissolved, their employees shunned; it was a waste of years, in that sense, working and fighting and seeing your comrades all around you die for... no reason, in the end. What was all that worth? A corporate changeover, back to life as normal for everyone else, and for the rest of you-- nothing.
You're luckier than the rest. Others can still identify you as being from the old Corp, but you don't share the most obvious common mutations, so it's easier to live without being immediately shut out of everywhere you try to go like the rest are. You know they hate you for it.
You know she hates you for it. Delilah couldn't put up with it. You're not sure where she disappeared to, if she's survived after the fall, one of the many experiments they used and then tossed aside.
A man stands across from you, in a navy outfit. The one in charge of it all, who used you both, who you've never managed to kill.
"It'll always be this way for you," he says.]
no subject
outwardly, all she does is scowl. ]
I know.
[ that's the hardest part: acceptance of this fact. this shitty fucking life that has amounted to nothing. ]
no subject
He can't help but laugh, at that, shaking his head.
"I thought you'd be less disappointing."]
no subject
[ the words are practically spat out - poison in her mouth. ]
I'm about once second away from changing that.
[ she wants to rip and tear and destroy. if she's already lost everything, what else does she have to lose? ]
no subject
He grins, watching her with a brow raised, arms spread.]
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[ would it?
the world around them won't change because one stupid blue fucker met his end. it won't change the loss, the wasted life, the hatred she feels.
is the momentary catharsis worth it? wpuld she even feel it at all? ]
Guess there's one way to find out.
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It won't change anything. It won't change anything at all.
Is it worth it?]
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[ life is there. there really is nothing else. no past. no future. nothing.
the tiniest thread of hope, of that fleeting catharsis sure is tempting. one repreive, no matter how brief, is going to be a welcome respite from the neverending hell this dump is.
she lunges. if she can get him down, pinned, whatever- she can leverage her arm against his throat and squeeze the life out of him. ]
no subject
It pierces directly through him.
He laughs as he bleeds, but more than that...
Attacking him like this seems to break something, cracking reality. Golden light seeps through the cracks, then grows brighter, brighter-
Until she can no longer see. She can only move into that warmth.]
ichiban.
You're standing before an imposing set of office double doors, wearing a blue uniform. The war isn't going well for your side. You've all sort of been able to tell... but what choice do you have but to keep fighting it, when those are the orders? What choice do you have but to keep taking lives in a futile effort like this one? If they won't call a stop to it, if they're content to keep throwing their employees' lives and futures away, then--
That's all there is to do. It's not like anyone can change it.
You have a feeling you know who will be behind these doors, if you open them.]