[ see this fulfilled his plan on getting her out of the pod but now it has created a new problem, which is that she is now a car.
i somehow rolled a 20 which means owner just jumps on top of the front hood and is just kind of hanging on now somehow with one arm and holding onto a sword
[cool well she will spin around and run him over just to be safe because trust no bitch.
however, she is also steadily getting her life force drained, so between that and the damage from the crash, she's in trouble. if alli had let me be a tesla i would have had her catch on fire here but instead she is a sturdy and well designed electric car and she just gets knocked back into her extremely wounded human body. also lying on the ground, not moving. bleeding.]
sometimes you have been thrown off a car, run over, stabbed (by yourself), stabbed (not directly by yourself but metaphorically by evil healing pod), and shot at. it's fine. he has no idea where his sword is, as it went flying in a different direction.
but he will now try to start crawling towards her. ]
[she's still alive, too, but barely. her wounds didn't have enough time to heal in the pod, and they're reopening again now. she's bleeding on the floor. still alive, but she can't seem to muster up the strength to move.]
he crawls towards her, inch by inch, desperately digging his fingers into the ground to pull him over to where she lays. this can be saved, and he will fix her to be better, to be the margaret he remembers her to be, before she ever got that book. and then they will reunite with sidon and guy, and he will fix them too. and, eventually, they will see charles and arthur again, and owner can also make them better. they will all be okay.
he's losing steam though, and it's an agonizing long time before he gets to her. owner only has one arm, his prosthetic left behind along with a dream. but with his remaining hand, he reaches over to place it on her neck and squeeze. it's not as much force as it would be with two, but he tries to put every effort he has into it. ]
[she's fading away already. it doesn't take much force on her neck to make it impossible for her to breath or speak when she's already lost so much blood. even an attempt to make something coherent out of her thoughts feels beyond her.
maybe it's better that way. she can't remember why he's wrong, or why she's the one who needed to win. some deep seated thought believes that his winning will damn them and her winning would save them, and he's a fool to think otherwise, but she can't remember why. maybe she never knew.
she would like for all of them to be okay. she didn't set out here wanting to achieve a big dream. she set out on an adventure, to see the world with a crew of people who were interesting and brave and clever and fun. to live in a different way. to learn if it was possible to change. and it was good. she was satisfied, for once, even if what she had was nothing that would look impressive to anyone else. when exactly did she lose that? when did she start letting someone else's voice tell her what she's supposed to want again?
We're going to be okay, Margaret.
she hopes so. if she dreams it enough, maybe it will become so. maybe they'll find a way.
but she can't seem to hold onto that thought any longer, either. she's too weak to even continue gasping for breath or struggling against him, and then she's gone. margaret encino is dead.]
At least, the voice - no, voices, in your head seem to be saying so. Reassuring. Comforting. Cajoling. Demanding. You have done what was asked, yet they seem unsatisfied still.
Perhaps they can't be satisfied. Blood can't be enough.
Like a puppet being dragged upwards by its strings, Owner, you rise to your feet. You will obey. You will serve. You have done well, but it the work is not finished yet.
he gets to his feet, and there's only pain that rushes through him. he shouldn't be walking, but he knows he has to keep going. after all, how is margaret going to come to her senses if he doesn't? there is still so much work to be done.
owner stumbles forward, shakily, limping. onward, onward, he can't waste any more time to reach the goal. ]
[ There is pain. There is so much pain that it becomes numbing. He stumbles forward until it is nothing but darkness, and a figure steps out from it. White, softly glowing ... the body elongates like a snake as it shifts closer to him.
"I'm sorry we had to push you like that. We've simply waited too long. Others have failed before you-- I couldn't bear to see it end like that." ]
[ he trails off, trying to figure out what to say. so much has just happened, and there's something in him that tells him he should be used to this, but it is such a distant memory of a life long gone that the feeling blinks out almost as quickly as it came. ]
this seems right... sidon never seemed like he was giving his all into this, always seeming like he was questioning their decisions. yes, he will ruin all of this. ]
[ he is filled with a deep sense of gratitude - enough that it makes his stomach turn and twist. His whispers are still his own, even in the depths of this madness. They tell you that this ... is a broken thing. Whatever happened to them, they brought upon themselves, and now they wish to break you too. What will be left, after they are done?
`Thank you, Nonagon.`
You march onwards. Back towards the Dream Crucible. ]
[ they can meet at the dream crucible, just like they'd agreed to. and he looks like shit? he looks like shit. guy and their mutual acquaintance have done a number on him. there's blood dried down his face from where it's come out of his eyes and mouth, he's been stabbed, his prosthetic is dented and sparking from where it's been beaten enough that implies he's probably got some broken bones elsewhere, too.
but he's standing. he's holding himself upright, with some deranged pride, and he looks to owner with an expression that's filled with... sorrow. this is his dear friend, who's lost his way. who needs to die, for the sake of something so much more.
but still, his friend. ]
I won't apologize, Owner.
[ and then he's going to charge at him, aiming to knock whatever weapon he might still have away and kill him. ]
[ well. owner also looks like shit, considering he was hit by a literal car. realistically sidon is 100% going to win this fight unless he somehow trips and lands on his own trident.
but on the way over he managed to grab margaret's phaser gun; he knows trying to fight sidon with a sword one handed isn't going to do much. he shakily lifts the gun up and shoots at the approaching figure. ]
Hello, my friend!
[ he needs to die. this needs to end. sidon needs to die. ]
[ yeah he does that, he drops his trident and just skewers himself on it. no, he gets blasted. with duo 15s, he gets hit square in the joint of his shoulder, scorching his arm and making his grip falter, but it doesn't stop him. it's a blow for a blow, and he grabs owner to just. smash him against whatever surface is available.
this has to end. owner has to die. ]
Dear friend—please stop. Stop struggling. [ just rest. ] I'll bring you back.
[ he can feel something break. he doesn't know what else is likely broken. there's a gasp of pain, and again he has this feeling that this is something he should be used to but it's far away-- probably because his vision is starting to blur together.
he has to save sidon. only owner can do this, he can't trust this task to anyone else.
[ sidon is literally holding him, so sufficed to say........ the fireball hits... :tails:
it killed that mage on impact before. and they're both so injured already. the flames engulf them in a massive blast, a burst of absolutely incandescent pain—even his scales can't protect his skin entirely, burnt and peeling away with a scream, which turns into a roar.
but all he has to do is outsurvive a man who got hit by a car. he can't die like this—he has to save owner. margaret, guy. he practically cracks his teeth with how tightly he sets his jaw as the flame passes, trying to work past the pain to just grab owner by the skull. for two things: to try and control his mind, to encourage him to just stop.
and secondly, to try and bite his throat and rip it out. but he's in a lot of pain. they're both probably just. blood. ]
[ unsurprisingly, sidon is going to outlive the guy who got hit by a car.
the force of the fireball is extreme, and he can feel his body being incinerated by the warmth, his skin breaking down under the fierce blaze of it all. his hand tries to desperately grasp at sidon, trying to claw at him as he still, still tries to kill him. only he can do it, after all. if owner doesn't, then none of them will be at peace. he must, he mu--
something tells him to stop, and he does, just for a second, and in that second he feels teeth tear into his flesh. no sound escapes him, as he has reached the point where he can't even scream in pain. his hand tries to dig into sidon's skin in a frenzy, still trying to win, trying to do anything. it must be him. it must.
and then his hand stops, as does the rest of him, but for more than a second. owner is dead. ]
[ I really am sorry to say it, Owner, but your journey is perhaps not quite done yet.
Sidon.
You’re alone.
It’s suddenly very quiet in here - more quiet than you thought possible. Until you hear the scuttle of feet on the wall near you - a thousand-limbed creature, white, with red eyes - is watching you. Carefully.
An illusion, of course, all in your mind but still.
`Wonderful work, Nonagon. You are quite impressive, you know? I always knew you were the best choice - the others, they questioned me, thought you too soft-hearted - but I saw. A strong will.
You’re close now. A few more steps. You need to bring us the Threshold Crest. Can you retrieve it?` ]
[ he feels owner fight until his very last moment. clawing, scraping, burning. what a brilliant, brilliant person. he loved owner. loves him, still—he'll bring him back. that was the entire point of this. nothing drives him forward like responsibility, and care, and love.
he spits out his friend's flesh and blood and looks over the creature, so deliriously in pain that he can't tell if it's there, and then drags his burnt-stabbed-brain-blasted body over to grab the pieces of the crest. his voice croaks out at nothing, alone. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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i somehow rolled a 20 which means owner just jumps on top of the front hood and is just kind of hanging on now somehow with one arm and holding onto a sword
wheeeeee ]
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she's just going to screech around the room making sharp turns and honking her horn trying to throw him off.]
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Margaret! You are an awful driver!
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and he is launched off the hood and crashes onto the ground nearby. he doesn't move. ]
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however, she is also steadily getting her life force drained, so between that and the damage from the crash, she's in trouble. if alli had let me be a tesla i would have had her catch on fire here but instead she is a sturdy and well designed electric car and she just gets knocked back into her extremely wounded human body. also lying on the ground, not moving. bleeding.]
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sometimes you have been thrown off a car, run over, stabbed (by yourself), stabbed (not directly by yourself but metaphorically by evil healing pod), and shot at. it's fine. he has no idea where his sword is, as it went flying in a different direction.
but he will now try to start crawling towards her. ]
...
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he crawls towards her, inch by inch, desperately digging his fingers into the ground to pull him over to where she lays. this can be saved, and he will fix her to be better, to be the margaret he remembers her to be, before she ever got that book. and then they will reunite with sidon and guy, and he will fix them too. and, eventually, they will see charles and arthur again, and owner can also make them better. they will all be okay.
he's losing steam though, and it's an agonizing long time before he gets to her. owner only has one arm, his prosthetic left behind along with a dream. but with his remaining hand, he reaches over to place it on her neck and squeeze. it's not as much force as it would be with two, but he tries to put every effort he has into it. ]
We are going to be okay, Margaret.
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maybe it's better that way. she can't remember why he's wrong, or why she's the one who needed to win. some deep seated thought believes that his winning will damn them and her winning would save them, and he's a fool to think otherwise, but she can't remember why. maybe she never knew.
she would like for all of them to be okay. she didn't set out here wanting to achieve a big dream. she set out on an adventure, to see the world with a crew of people who were interesting and brave and clever and fun. to live in a different way. to learn if it was possible to change. and it was good. she was satisfied, for once, even if what she had was nothing that would look impressive to anyone else. when exactly did she lose that? when did she start letting someone else's voice tell her what she's supposed to want again?
We're going to be okay, Margaret.
she hopes so. if she dreams it enough, maybe it will become so. maybe they'll find a way.
but she can't seem to hold onto that thought any longer, either. she's too weak to even continue gasping for breath or struggling against him, and then she's gone. margaret encino is dead.]
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At least, the voice - no, voices, in your head seem to be saying so. Reassuring. Comforting. Cajoling. Demanding. You have done what was asked, yet they seem unsatisfied still.
Perhaps they can't be satisfied. Blood can't be enough.
Like a puppet being dragged upwards by its strings, Owner, you rise to your feet. You will obey. You will serve. You have done well, but it the work is not finished yet.
The crest.
But as for Margaret, maybe, there is some measure of peace.]
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he gets to his feet, and there's only pain that rushes through him. he shouldn't be walking, but he knows he has to keep going. after all, how is margaret going to come to her senses if he doesn't? there is still so much work to be done.
owner stumbles forward, shakily, limping. onward, onward, he can't waste any more time to reach the goal. ]
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"I'm sorry we had to push you like that. We've simply waited too long. Others have failed before you-- I couldn't bear to see it end like that." ]
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[ he trails off, trying to figure out what to say. so much has just happened, and there's something in him that tells him he should be used to this, but it is such a distant memory of a life long gone that the feeling blinks out almost as quickly as it came. ]
What do I do?
[ where should he go? what's next? ]
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"To bring us back, you will have to travel to Aeor proper. Through the gate that lies there. But first you have to finish your business here.
Sidon remains. He is a threat. He thinks too highly of himself.
If you do that, we can help you. You won't have to do anything anymore. You can rest." ]
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this seems right... sidon never seemed like he was giving his all into this, always seeming like he was questioning their decisions. yes, he will ruin all of this. ]
I will take care of him.
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`Thank you, Nonagon.`
You march onwards. Back towards the Dream Crucible. ]
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but he's standing. he's holding himself upright, with some deranged pride, and he looks to owner with an expression that's filled with... sorrow. this is his dear friend, who's lost his way. who needs to die, for the sake of something so much more.
but still, his friend. ]
I won't apologize, Owner.
[ and then he's going to charge at him, aiming to knock whatever weapon he might still have away and kill him. ]
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but on the way over he managed to grab margaret's phaser gun; he knows trying to fight sidon with a sword one handed isn't going to do much. he shakily lifts the gun up and shoots at the approaching figure. ]
Hello, my friend!
[ he needs to die. this needs to end. sidon needs to die. ]
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this has to end. owner has to die. ]
Dear friend—please stop. Stop struggling. [ just rest. ] I'll bring you back.
[ he really says it like he means it. ]
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[ he can feel something break. he doesn't know what else is likely broken. there's a gasp of pain, and again he has this feeling that this is something he should be used to but it's far away-- probably because his vision is starting to blur together.
he has to save sidon. only owner can do this, he can't trust this task to anyone else.
so he casts fireball. ]
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it killed that mage on impact before. and they're both so injured already. the flames engulf them in a massive blast, a burst of absolutely incandescent pain—even his scales can't protect his skin entirely, burnt and peeling away with a scream, which turns into a roar.
but all he has to do is outsurvive a man who got hit by a car. he can't die like this—he has to save owner. margaret, guy. he practically cracks his teeth with how tightly he sets his jaw as the flame passes, trying to work past the pain to just grab owner by the skull. for two things: to try and control his mind, to encourage him to just stop.
and secondly, to try and bite his throat and rip it out. but he's in a lot of pain. they're both probably just. blood. ]
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the force of the fireball is extreme, and he can feel his body being incinerated by the warmth, his skin breaking down under the fierce blaze of it all. his hand tries to desperately grasp at sidon, trying to claw at him as he still, still tries to kill him. only he can do it, after all. if owner doesn't, then none of them will be at peace. he must, he mu--
something tells him to stop, and he does, just for a second, and in that second he feels teeth tear into his flesh. no sound escapes him, as he has reached the point where he can't even scream in pain. his hand tries to dig into sidon's skin in a frenzy, still trying to win, trying to do anything. it must be him. it must.
and then his hand stops, as does the rest of him, but for more than a second. owner is dead. ]
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Sidon.
You’re alone.
It’s suddenly very quiet in here - more quiet than you thought possible. Until you hear the scuttle of feet on the wall near you - a thousand-limbed creature, white, with red eyes - is watching you. Carefully.
An illusion, of course, all in your mind but still.
`Wonderful work, Nonagon. You are quite impressive, you know? I always knew you were the best choice - the others, they questioned me, thought you too soft-hearted - but I saw. A strong will.
You’re close now. A few more steps. You need to bring us the Threshold Crest. Can you retrieve it?` ]
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he spits out his friend's flesh and blood and looks over the creature, so deliriously in pain that he can't tell if it's there, and then drags his burnt-stabbed-brain-blasted body over to grab the pieces of the crest. his voice croaks out at nothing, alone. ]
Is that it...?
[ are they done, after this? ]
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