[ he's giving her a smile, doing his best to be encouraging, project an air of confidence. he does immediately feel better, upon seeing her and being taken by the arm. ]
I'm certain we can, Shady Lady.
[ he frowns, looking over his shoulder. There's blood on the carpet, in the room behind him. but it seems easy enough to walk away from it, down the stairs and off into the distance, leaving it behind. ]
Agreed, though. Let's get out of here. I've been here for a minute and I think-- I've got a bad feeling.
[ Anywhere but here is very easy to achieve, all things considered, considering anywhere else is not here. The hotel fades away as they walk, back to the eerie greeness of everything.
A statue of Shar juts from a rocky cliff, for a moment it seems the lights go out entirely. Darkness. Richie's hand squeezes hers tighter. ]
There are others out there. They're going to try and hurt us.
[ they start passing doorways, hallways, passages, roads. Options. He looks over, sincerely concerned, waiting for her to make the decision on which way to turn, which way to run. ]
Don't listen to anything anyone else tells you in this place, alright? That's ... important.
[she sees that statue of shar and blanches, tugs richie's hand to head in a different direction.]
I understand. I won't be listening to anyone. [not after last time. she remembers exactly how it turned out, even if she doesn't remember the specifics. she trusted too easily, let herself be lulled into a false sense of security, and then it all ended in that hotel room, the blood on the floor...
she feels around for a weapon, does she have the knife on her person?]
[ funnily enough, she thinks she shouldn't ... she doesn't have any of her regular items on her person, until she feels around enough and comes up with a very familiar Murder Knife. Who knows how useful that thing will be here of all places though.
Richie will glance over at her feeling around, but won't do more than that. tugged along, away from shar, away from the hotel, into endless unknown landscape that unfolds into almost repetitive shapes. it feels like they've been walking for an hour. ]
[wait, no, that's not the weirdest part of what he said at all.]
...Normally?
[how would he have any basis for "normally" in this place. but then, if the answer is, don't worry about it, the thought slides away, that's fine, too.]
[ She can hold that thought for as long as she likes, actually. maybe it's actually the most clear thought she's had so far. normally. What does that mean?
Not too much time to think about it though before the ground slips from under her feet and all the light pitches to total darkness and sends her to land in a heap ... somewhere. The kind of darkness where you can't even see your own hand in front of you, nothing but the sound of her own breathing.
it doesn't seem like richie is there anymore. or at least, she can't see him. she can't see anything. ]
[as alarming as that was, she really doesn't want to be separated from him, especially like this. getting to her feet quickly, though. she has that sharran acolyte training baked in. the darkness isn't a threat, it's an advantage. a cloak, a shield. all she needs is to be the one who is confident in using it for herself.
she will try to step forward with deliberate but careful footsteps.]
[ Is the darkness an advantage to you? It's funny, it is your training, your memory, but it doesn't feel as if it's on your side anymore, does it?
As she adjusts to the light, she'll begin to be able to pick out shapes - it's a large room, echoing and empty, and perhaps a little familiar. there's a sting on her hand. Not the back of it, like before, but the palm. If she looks, there's a fresh mark of blood across it, as if she's recently drawn a knife over it.
From the shadows, someone steps out. Clad in full justiciar armor, and armed to the teeth. She is honed and ready, and glaring at you.
It seems as if, however, she might be listening to someone else for the moment. And there's an ache in the absence, in the silence, for you. ]
Yes, my lady.
[ she responds to someone else, who will not bother with someone as pathetic as you. this stranger - hair dark and eyes darker - lowers the end of her spear towards your throat. ]
Did you come crawling back, hoping to worm your way back into her graces after no one else would take you? Not some useless God. Not even Selune would take pity on you.
[her breath catches, but she's on edge instantly. whatever ugly words this person has for her, she's going to treat her as an enemy, as a threat.
she doesn't want shar's pity. she doesn't want selûne, either. she doesn't want to belong to anyone anymore, but she can't deny that it hurts, to see her dream fulfilled. the satisfaction, the belonging, the strength. she is so weak in comparison, so soft, so frightened. she cannot deny that lady shar's favor and a hardened heart are powerful armor.
she has the knife at least, so her hand will go to it, even though there is very little she can do against a full dark justiciar armed with a goddess' magic spear.]
You're bragging about possessing scraps I already refused. Was she willing to take you, or does she just own you, like a pet?
[ the sharran just smirks, because she knows that there is really little point in this fight. honestly, it would be easier to leave her here to starve, or rot away into the darkness. she begins to circle, idle, as if she isn't threatened at all by some pathetic little knife wielded by a child.
not even the mark on the back of your hand hurts, though it feels like it should. Something. Any scrap of attention, anything to feel like she might belong somewhere. To someone. ]
Refused? Do you really believe a new haircut and a positive attitude is enough to change? At least I made a real choice. One that required blood and a spine.
You're aren't going to die here. You'll just be forgotten.
[she doesn't want that to sting, but it does. she does feel embarrassed of herself. she changed her hair, yay. that means she changed herself, doesn't it?
she knows it's a little pathetic.]
At least I'll never be you. I have spine enough for that. If you'd like blood, as well, it can be arranged.
[but that won't save her from being crushed like an insect by forces far more powerful than she could ever be. if she thought sparing selûne's daughter would earn her some sort of blessing or protection, then, well, she was completely wrong. so it rings true.
would anyone even know she was here? would anyone look for her?]
You're right. You'll never be me. I don't have any daddy issues.
[ the sharran moves to aim the end of the spear at her middle with a crushing blow, enough to wind her with the force of it.
but it's true enough. she's alone now, and this place seems next to impossible to navigate, and there is no one out there actually looking for her. she'll stay here in the darkness and fade away into nothingness and none of it will have mattered at all. not the rejection, not the barbs, not the haircut, not any promises made or unmade.
she won't even act first to try and save herself. ]
[well she will if she can! she would love to stab this bitch. she will take the blow across the chest and grip the shaft of the spear with both hands and try to wrench back control of it. if the end of the spear is against her stomach, then doesn't that mean the point is facing the dark justiciar?
because she would love to drive this blade through her.]
[ it does mean that, and she can absolutely drive the blade through her - its aim is a little off, because it slides off the heavily armored breastplate, but finds its mark at the attacker's weaker shoulderjoint - puncturing through the chainmail beneath with a sickening crunch of metal and flesh. she screams, but mostly in rage, and rips the spear back.
she's sending one heavily gauntleted fist at Shadowheart's face with a punch, and then following up to try and stab her back, a horrible shouting scuffle. self-same. ]
[if it's the self same then she should also be allowed armor and weapons! getting punched in the goddamn face, spitting out the blood, and trying to defend herself.]
[ she'll put up a valiant fight, but she didn't prepare a good strategy for this fight. even injured, a fully-armored dark justiciar is so powerful. she can practically throw her across the room like a ragdoll, and casts horrible silence spells to prevent her from even arguing or using magic in her own defense.
it's more of this, the beating, the struggling, the toying with her like a cat with a mouse until the wound on her shoulder starts slowing her down. she's tired.
and shadowheart will hear a voice in her head. ]
`You could never be replaced. You know that. You could finish this.`
[god. she's glad she's as much of a bitch as ever. for a moment, she feels sorry for the shadowheart who can toss her around like she's some kind of imaginary execution shadowheart.
but god, she doesn't want to die, either. gritting her teeth, trying to catch her breath. looking up at the woman in front of her, spitting blood.]
Did you know that she's offering to toss you aside?
[maybe she doesn't matter to anyone either, but at least she has no illusions about that.]
[ that does make this other self pause. and then look angry. isn't that a bit pathetic too, to be so hurt, so devastated, by this casual cruelty of a goddess who's nature she must surely know by now.
she screams in frustration. ]
But-- I did as you asked! I killed them for you!
[ funnily enough, you get the distinct sense you might know who them is. ]
[of course she did. shadowheart already knows that, even though she hasn't wanted to think of it. flashes of memory here and there. the way the encounter with the wolf ended. the flashes of a person with a face that moves from familiar to unfamiliar, the sense she carries with her, always, that there are things in her past, just outside her memory, that are unforgivable.
what she doesn't know is whether what this shadowheart is screaming about is a possible future or her own past.
and she doesn't think she would like to know, actually. she would very much like not to know. she will try to get to her feet and while dj shart is screaming, drive the knife between her ribs.]
It is always a lie, you stupid child.
[how could she believe her, how could she think all of this pain and sacrifice was worth it. at least she can live with pain. no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much she's bruised and battered, she can live with it, she can endure it. no armor or heavy gauntlets or magic spear blessed by a goddess will ever protect her as much as that]
[ she's unprepared for it, because despite everything, all of the training, all of the emptying herself of emotions, of memories, of loyalties and hope, she is still a child. a child who wants nothing more than to be chosen by someone despite it all.
it's shocking enough that she barely makes a sound as it slides beneath the edge of the breastplate and into her chest - filling her lungs with blood as she begins to choke on it, struggling to try and push at shadowheart and fight her off.
one stab probably isn't enough to finish the job. ]
[good, because she's fine with this. she'll stab her again and again. anywhere she can get beneath the armor. she knows the places to drive the knife in, where it will only hurt and where it will bleed a lot and where it won't be possible to survive. it's like an instinct, the way despite her amnesia she knows which direction the sun rises and falls and that she loves night orchids and can't swim.]
They were my family, you monster! [into the lung, a twist, puncture it. again in the side, where the plates don't cover. dig deep into the abdomen.] They were mine. What did you do to them? [into the neck, letting the blood spray. it doesn't matter.] How could you, how could you? [she'll stab and stab until it's enough, like she can avenge them somehow, but avenge them from a crime she can remember her own hands committing in motions so similar to this.]
[ she's going to get blood in her nice new hairdo ...
the sharran doesn't reply again, already bleeding out and fading into darkness, into an embrace she so desperately wished for. she has no answers, no questions, and there is no satisfaction in the act. only blood and rage.
she can keep stabbing as long as she likes, until there's nothing left to do, but eventually there's nothing but silence. and darkness.
[it's fine it happens. once you long rest it comes right out.
she turns around, suddenly all too aware of the blood on her hands, on her face and hair, the knife and the wounds on her hand from using it so recklessly. it's not exactly a nice image of her to come upon. that unbreakable drive to survive and not care what she has to do and who is in her way as long as she can keep going for another moment; the deep well of anger at everyone who has ever hurt her and more than anything at herself for letting them -- both desert her abruptly. she just feels disgusting. fragile and desperate like a caged animal, biting at everything but aware of how little it changed anything.
[ richie emerges from a shadowed corner - out of breath, like he's been running and desperately looking for her - and looks instantly relieved to see her despite her blood-streaked appearance.
he kneels down and reaches with his one hand to take the knife from her, gentle. ]
I found you. I was looking all over, shit-- are you okay?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
holyspirits) wrote2025-03-23 03:14 pm
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I'm certain we can, Shady Lady.
[ he frowns, looking over his shoulder. There's blood on the carpet, in the room behind him. but it seems easy enough to walk away from it, down the stairs and off into the distance, leaving it behind. ]
Agreed, though. Let's get out of here. I've been here for a minute and I think-- I've got a bad feeling.
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Yes, please let's go. Anywhere but here.
[she has a bad feeling, too, but it eases as they walk away from it, leave it behind them.]
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A statue of Shar juts from a rocky cliff, for a moment it seems the lights go out entirely. Darkness. Richie's hand squeezes hers tighter. ]
There are others out there. They're going to try and hurt us.
[ they start passing doorways, hallways, passages, roads. Options. He looks over, sincerely concerned, waiting for her to make the decision on which way to turn, which way to run. ]
Don't listen to anything anyone else tells you in this place, alright? That's ... important.
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[she sees that statue of shar and blanches, tugs richie's hand to head in a different direction.]
I understand. I won't be listening to anyone. [not after last time. she remembers exactly how it turned out, even if she doesn't remember the specifics. she trusted too easily, let herself be lulled into a false sense of security, and then it all ended in that hotel room, the blood on the floor...
she feels around for a weapon, does she have the knife on her person?]
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[ funnily enough, she thinks she shouldn't ... she doesn't have any of her regular items on her person, until she feels around enough and comes up with a very familiar Murder Knife. Who knows how useful that thing will be here of all places though.
Richie will glance over at her feeling around, but won't do more than that. tugged along, away from shar, away from the hotel, into endless unknown landscape that unfolds into almost repetitive shapes. it feels like they've been walking for an hour. ]
They don't normally send so many at a time.
[ odd thing to say. ]
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So many?
[wait, no, that's not the weirdest part of what he said at all.]
...Normally?
[how would he have any basis for "normally" in this place. but then, if the answer is, don't worry about it, the thought slides away, that's fine, too.]
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[ She can hold that thought for as long as she likes, actually. maybe it's actually the most clear thought she's had so far. normally. What does that mean?
Not too much time to think about it though before the ground slips from under her feet and all the light pitches to total darkness and sends her to land in a heap ... somewhere. The kind of darkness where you can't even see your own hand in front of you, nothing but the sound of her own breathing.
it doesn't seem like richie is there anymore. or at least, she can't see him. she can't see anything. ]
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[as alarming as that was, she really doesn't want to be separated from him, especially like this. getting to her feet quickly, though. she has that sharran acolyte training baked in. the darkness isn't a threat, it's an advantage. a cloak, a shield. all she needs is to be the one who is confident in using it for herself.
she will try to step forward with deliberate but careful footsteps.]
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As she adjusts to the light, she'll begin to be able to pick out shapes - it's a large room, echoing and empty, and perhaps a little familiar. there's a sting on her hand. Not the back of it, like before, but the palm. If she looks, there's a fresh mark of blood across it, as if she's recently drawn a knife over it.
From the shadows, someone steps out. Clad in full justiciar armor, and armed to the teeth. She is honed and ready, and glaring at you.
It seems as if, however, she might be listening to someone else for the moment. And there's an ache in the absence, in the silence, for you. ]
Yes, my lady.
[ she responds to someone else, who will not bother with someone as pathetic as you. this stranger - hair dark and eyes darker - lowers the end of her spear towards your throat. ]
Did you come crawling back, hoping to worm your way back into her graces after no one else would take you? Not some useless God. Not even Selune would take pity on you.
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she doesn't want shar's pity. she doesn't want selûne, either. she doesn't want to belong to anyone anymore, but she can't deny that it hurts, to see her dream fulfilled. the satisfaction, the belonging, the strength. she is so weak in comparison, so soft, so frightened. she cannot deny that lady shar's favor and a hardened heart are powerful armor.
she has the knife at least, so her hand will go to it, even though there is very little she can do against a full dark justiciar armed with a goddess' magic spear.]
You're bragging about possessing scraps I already refused. Was she willing to take you, or does she just own you, like a pet?
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not even the mark on the back of your hand hurts, though it feels like it should. Something. Any scrap of attention, anything to feel like she might belong somewhere. To someone. ]
Refused? Do you really believe a new haircut and a positive attitude is enough to change? At least I made a real choice. One that required blood and a spine.
You're aren't going to die here. You'll just be forgotten.
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she knows it's a little pathetic.]
At least I'll never be you. I have spine enough for that. If you'd like blood, as well, it can be arranged.
[but that won't save her from being crushed like an insect by forces far more powerful than she could ever be. if she thought sparing selûne's daughter would earn her some sort of blessing or protection, then, well, she was completely wrong. so it rings true.
would anyone even know she was here? would anyone look for her?]
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[ the sharran moves to aim the end of the spear at her middle with a crushing blow, enough to wind her with the force of it.
but it's true enough. she's alone now, and this place seems next to impossible to navigate, and there is no one out there actually looking for her. she'll stay here in the darkness and fade away into nothingness and none of it will have mattered at all. not the rejection, not the barbs, not the haircut, not any promises made or unmade.
she won't even act first to try and save herself. ]
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because she would love to drive this blade through her.]
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she's sending one heavily gauntleted fist at Shadowheart's face with a punch, and then following up to try and stab her back, a horrible shouting scuffle. self-same. ]
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it's more of this, the beating, the struggling, the toying with her like a cat with a mouse until the wound on her shoulder starts slowing her down. she's tired.
and shadowheart will hear a voice in her head. ]
`You could never be replaced. You know that. You could finish this.`
[ shar. ]
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but god, she doesn't want to die, either. gritting her teeth, trying to catch her breath. looking up at the woman in front of her, spitting blood.]
Did you know that she's offering to toss you aside?
[maybe she doesn't matter to anyone either, but at least she has no illusions about that.]
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she screams in frustration. ]
But-- I did as you asked! I killed them for you!
[ funnily enough, you get the distinct sense you might know who them is. ]
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what she doesn't know is whether what this shadowheart is screaming about is a possible future or her own past.
and she doesn't think she would like to know, actually. she would very much like not to know. she will try to get to her feet and while dj shart is screaming, drive the knife between her ribs.]
It is always a lie, you stupid child.
[how could she believe her, how could she think all of this pain and sacrifice was worth it. at least she can live with pain. no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much she's bruised and battered, she can live with it, she can endure it. no armor or heavy gauntlets or magic spear blessed by a goddess will ever protect her as much as that]
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it's shocking enough that she barely makes a sound as it slides beneath the edge of the breastplate and into her chest - filling her lungs with blood as she begins to choke on it, struggling to try and push at shadowheart and fight her off.
one stab probably isn't enough to finish the job. ]
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They were my family, you monster! [into the lung, a twist, puncture it. again in the side, where the plates don't cover. dig deep into the abdomen.] They were mine. What did you do to them? [into the neck, letting the blood spray. it doesn't matter.] How could you, how could you? [she'll stab and stab until it's enough, like she can avenge them somehow, but avenge them from a crime she can remember her own hands committing in motions so similar to this.]
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the sharran doesn't reply again, already bleeding out and fading into darkness, into an embrace she so desperately wished for. she has no answers, no questions, and there is no satisfaction in the act. only blood and rage.
she can keep stabbing as long as she likes, until there's nothing left to do, but eventually there's nothing but silence. and darkness.
though the dark, a voice calls out: ]
Shadowheart ... ?
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she turns around, suddenly all too aware of the blood on her hands, on her face and hair, the knife and the wounds on her hand from using it so recklessly. it's not exactly a nice image of her to come upon. that unbreakable drive to survive and not care what she has to do and who is in her way as long as she can keep going for another moment; the deep well of anger at everyone who has ever hurt her and more than anything at herself for letting them -- both desert her abruptly. she just feels disgusting. fragile and desperate like a caged animal, biting at everything but aware of how little it changed anything.
who is there, then?]
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he kneels down and reaches with his one hand to take the knife from her, gentle. ]
I found you. I was looking all over, shit-- are you okay?
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