Coulda just kicked him out. Shamed him out somethin’.
[ would’ve been less messy, for one. but somehow he doesn’t seem to think that matters to the woman in the robe. he wanders over to the altar, and stares down the figure for a moment, like he’s supposed to recognise who this is. there’s just a big wave of nothing. so… it can’t matter then right?
he looks down at the tools and— a knife’s probably the neatest for this, yeah? he’s not looking to hack off an arm or a leg, but a cut or two should do it. but once he’s picked up the knife he doesn’t move. like he knows this is something he should do — has to do, even, but it sits heavy on his shoulders, makes his already laboured breathing come out heavily and deeper like it’s strained. ]
that makes it a thousand times worse actually. he cannot wrap his head around someone sounding that heartbroken he doesn’t remember him — and then not yelling? screaming for mercy? anything he’d expect from a heretic or someone trying to get out of torture. basically just telling him to get on with it and hurt them?
he can’t understand it, but it’s enough to make him lower the knife. ]
[it does feel that way, doesn't it? that somehow this complete stranger loves you in a way that none of these other people you're around are even capable of.
but as that thought occurs to you, the wound in the center of your chest flares. the main is excruciating. it feels like the pain of that knife being driven into you all over again. and as the pain of it seizes you, the person on the disc is screaming, too.
you look up and see that one of the other hooded people is burning him, using a flame to burn one of his ears off.]
like instinct, he just fucking barrels into this other figure. it's gonna hurt like absolute shite through and through, but he's moving to ram his shoulder into the figure before he can even question it. the pain's unlike anything he's felt, and it feels like he's half bitten through his lip trying to stop himself from screaming. but it doesn't stop him. ]
[maybe it does change for him, as one of the other robed figures cuts fidelio's throat. actually, that name does occur to you, for only a second, without context. del.]
[after many hours, a man appears outside his cell. he'll slide him a bowl of porridge. half eaten, and bland (probably the opposite fear you'd typically have) but it's something to eat.]
There's no way to know. It all might have been a test? He might have been a stranger, but they planted something? I'm beginning to get concerned with how often they reset your memories.
[ other than not torture and maim the targets. still. mystery lad here's very concerned about him eating so, after a moment or two of thinking, he'll spoon some of the porridge into his mouth. ]
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holyspirits) wrote2025-02-23 02:30 pm
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he shakes his head. ]
Coulda just kicked him out. Shamed him out somethin’.
[ would’ve been less messy, for one. but somehow he doesn’t seem to think that matters to the woman in the robe. he wanders over to the altar, and stares down the figure for a moment, like he’s supposed to recognise who this is. there’s just a big wave of nothing. so… it can’t matter then right?
he looks down at the tools and— a knife’s probably the neatest for this, yeah? he’s not looking to hack off an arm or a leg, but a cut or two should do it. but once he’s picked up the knife he doesn’t move. like he knows this is something he should do — has to do, even, but it sits heavy on his shoulders, makes his already laboured breathing come out heavily and deeper like it’s strained. ]
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Bas?
[but that's not your name. your name is Gloomfang.]
Bas, please say you know me.
[the woman is standing behind him.]
Go ahead, Gloomfang.
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he shakes his head. it’s half like he’s trying to clear it and half an answer. ]
I don’t. Am I s’posed to…?
[ he’s still just holding this knife. ]
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[he sounds exhausted, and a little heartbroken, but it sounds like he's saying the same thing as the woman is.]
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that makes it a thousand times worse actually. he cannot wrap his head around someone sounding that heartbroken he doesn’t remember him — and then not yelling? screaming for mercy? anything he’d expect from a heretic or someone trying to get out of torture. basically just telling him to get on with it and hurt them?
he can’t understand it, but it’s enough to make him lower the knife. ]
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but as that thought occurs to you, the wound in the center of your chest flares. the main is excruciating. it feels like the pain of that knife being driven into you all over again. and as the pain of it seizes you, the person on the disc is screaming, too.
you look up and see that one of the other hooded people is burning him, using a flame to burn one of his ears off.]
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well.
like instinct, he just fucking barrels into this other figure. it's gonna hurt like absolute shite through and through, but he's moving to ram his shoulder into the figure before he can even question it. the pain's unlike anything he's felt, and it feels like he's half bitten through his lip trying to stop himself from screaming. but it doesn't stop him. ]
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This was another failure.
[the person on the table is struggling and cursing, threatening the people holding them both hostage. but you can't do anything else.]
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Del!
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he's been better, really. ]
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How are you feeling, Gloomfang?
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... What happened to the guy on the altar?
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[he's frowning. he looks worried, though?]
What guy? I don't really know what they had you doing.
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[ ... ] Remembered his name for a bit there, like I knew him.
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There's no way to know. It all might have been a test? He might have been a stranger, but they planted something? I'm beginning to get concerned with how often they reset your memories.
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... Reset memories?
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which is concerning in and of itself. ]
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[...]
Won't you eat? It took me a lot to steal even that much for you. You may not remember me right now, but I'm here for you, Gloomfang.
[his care for you at least does seem genuine, even if it doesn't seem like he has any answers or ways to help you other than bringing you some food.]
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[ other than not torture and maim the targets. still. mystery lad here's very concerned about him eating so, after a moment or two of thinking, he'll spoon some of the porridge into his mouth. ]
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[but he just says this matter-of-factly, it's not a suggestion so much as an observation.]
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Yeah, but sometimes I'm not feelin' it.
[ SORRY LADY SHAR, DON'T FEEL IT TODAY. THE VIBES ARE OFF. ]
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