this is Salem, a land filled with magic and maladies. It is a place where witches and their elemental familiars gather, a home to legend and
lore that predates time itself. Yet of all the wicked and wonderful stories the past can tell us of, the most magical are the ones yet to happen.
This is Salem - this is the start of your very own journey. Welcome to starfall
Starfall is an animaga witch roleplay set in mostly modern times. Members play as witches in a world plagued by monsters, where the only safe spots are walled cities. Starfall strives to be a character-driven roleplay with expansive lore and a highly interactive plotline. We want to allow members to
create and look back on a magical journey, and mold the site and its plot as their characters grow.
[attr="class","intext"]Sima watched as the museum crumbled away, but the deterioration didn't keep him from continuing to step back. At any second the statues could burst from it, could cleave them in two, could—
And it all switched. No smooth transition, no fade out, just all of a sudden he was staring up at the sky and there was a deafening roar of cheering. It was a terrible sound that stirred up nothing but fear and anxiety, so quickly he got to his feet. A quick glance was all he could get before a cage rumbled up from below and a tiger burst forth. No weapons, no armor, and no way out. He liked the statues better than this. At least the stump where his hand was was no longer gushing, but still he felt dizzy and it wasn't like his hand had suddenly grown back. That would've been nice, but nightmares never were the type to be kind.
How were they supposed to win this? No exit, no weapons, no magic. No, that wasn't right. They had magic, but no scrolls. He gripped the raw skin, felt the pain lance up again, fresh and grounding. A risk, but it wasn't like they could effectively win in close combat to a tiger. He danced around attacks and with his remaining hand, he picked up and handful of sand and threw it at the tiger. Now careful, careful, he reached out and focused. He remembered the feeling of mana surging through him. They way it traced across invisible lines from his core to the tip of his fingers. The way it jumped forward, arced across the air. He mimicked it and hoped that he wouldn't make a mistake as he cast again expel trigger. This time, it didn't backfire and so he traced deeper the memory of how it felt. He didn't waste time before casting again, but this time faster and on the grains of sand under the tiger. Burn the paws raw and it might think twice about chasing them.
Can you die in a dream? Can you feel as you bleed out? As your bones are crushed and your body torn apart? The cold weight that takes hold as blood turns golden sand red and the panic fades as the pain does, the body no longer able to process it as it shuts down one function after another in the vain attempt to survive. Would he learn that feeling? His heart pounded in his chest as he scrambled across the sand, painfully aware that he was done if he missed a step.
He bust through the door, last of everyone else, and doing so just as the building began to crumble and some crashing down. He could hear the screams of thousands of people both onlookers and those unfortunate enough to still be caught within the debris. He was shaken, the flying rocks leaving many small cuts across his arms and face, dust settling upon his weary form. His breathing grew heavy, and his hands shook, the metal rebar fallin from his bleeding and raw hand with a clatter.
He fell once more into the darkness.
He awoke again to the roar of a crowd. At first he thought it was the panic of the museum, but he could feel a vicious heat beat down on him from the sun above. He pushed himself up, cradling his head in his hands...
...Hands?
He pulled his hands from his face, both of his arms currently sat attached to his body. Part of him felt thankful, but part of him also felt terribly, terribly wrong. the sand and dust gathered and swirled about his feet, baking against his tan skin. it was no heat of the forge, but it was still an offensive, all-consuming heat.
Standing himself up, he looked around. Thousands of spectators currently stood around on high stone walls as a metal cage lifted itself out of the center. It brought back bad memories of the dog pits back home. "Out of the frying pan, and into the fire huh." he said, the cage grinding to a halt at the apex of its rise.
The door fell open upon the dust with a mighty clang, kicking forth a small, cloudy, wave of sand. The beasts eyes glowed from within before it pounced out with a mighty roar, an armored beast of a tiger, with muscles of rippling cable. Cass looked around for Ai, and stood between her and the Tiger. If it came for the girl, it would have to get through him first.
He focused his mana, enshrouding his hands, arms, and head in bony armor he usually reserved for testing weapons around the forge. The first person to act was Sima, who launched multiple pieces of sand at it and seemingly burned its paws as it back away, skulking about, trying to figure out who was the weakest.
Coming to Cassius and Ai, he moved with the beast, keeping it between himself and the girl. He had fought wild animals before, and knew his way around this. He stared the tiger straight in the eyes, hearing its low rumbling growl. It moved to where Cassius was facing the sun. And then it pounced.
The armor saved him. It at least caught the sharp claws as he connected a hook with the creatures nose. He moved about, turning like a boxer as he did, and just barely escaping the creatures grab for him as he did so.
He wouldn't be able to keep this up, but for now, the creature at least seemed weary of approaching him further.
[attr="class","m2content"]what lies beyond the door offers no help, but at least they're out. the museum crumbles behind him, and, mouth dry and tasting suspicious of dust, he follows sima to a safe distance before drawing to an uncertain halt. a brief survey accounts for all the strangers -- unfamiliar faces who he feels no real obligation to help apart from the fact that they'd likely survive better as a group. ( he half expects a derisive snort from his familiar, and the silence is still unsettling. )[break][break]
maddox takes another step backwards, distantly remembering to breathe. blinks, and his foot lands in sand, the sun overhead is suddenly merciless. a vaguely unintelligible curse is dragged from his lips, senses unnervingly slow to adjust to the roar of the crowd, and his blood, in his ears. a slow, torturous groan of metal against metal as something heavy is pulled upwards -- he spins on his heel and his heart begins pounding twofold once again. unbidden, he's smiling, a sort of desperate, devil-may-care gladiatorial smile, sans armor or any reasonable weapon to be fighting against a creature of this size and strength.[break][break]
it doesn't take a genius to figure out that purification and atheneum scrolls are useless in this instance. he can feel sima reach for mana once again, the connection tenuous and but, unlike before, functional. he wracks his brain for a solution, but, finding none, simply falls back on combat training ( specialized in the subdueing of witches, not giant tigers, but it will have to do. )[break][break]
he watches as one, clad in bony armor -- transfiguration, he notes, filing the information away for use at some later date -- is attacked first by the tiger and, miraculously, not torn apart. yet in good conscience,( or whatever semblance of such he may possess ), maddox isn't entirely willing to use a stranger as bait just yet. not when they are proving useful -- more to than himself.[break][break]
a jacket is straightened out with a clap, the well-worn cloth held in front of him in a parody of a matador. it suffices in grabbing the tiger's attention, the beast put off by the punch to the nose -- there are five of them, and if they're able to keep its attention split, it may heighten their survival chances. the creature arcs through the air, and, like a spring uncoiled, maddox tosses the jacket up into the air to meet it, and springs away deftly. [break][break]
he lands heavily; the sand burns against unprotected skin for the barest moment, then the pain is thrown aside in favour of sprinting a few more steps away, chancing a glance over his shoulder to watch as it snarls and thrashes. the crowd roars, and vehemently, through what raw emotion is left through the panic and adrenaline of it all, he wishes they would shut up.
[attr="class","m2icons"]
[attr="class","m2icons2"]
[attr="class","m2hov2"]ONE MAN'S OBSESSION IS ANOTHER MAN'S TRASH
and she didn't get a chance the catch her breathe as it all seemed to change the moment she blinked. what was happening? weren't they just in a crumbling building? she really wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't real because of how much they had been through already. nothing seemed to add up and the questions just kept piling up and up. she feared for her sanity and her life. she was reminded of the past and blurred memories that etched into a disastrous shape that affected her hearing and vision in ways that caused her body to shake and tremble.
but now they seemed to be an arena that she had read about in books, books that held pictures of bloodlust and entertainment of another's suffering.
she didn't like that at all.
clinging to the cloak she still had, her eyes flittered about wildly until she laid eyes on the blonde. thank goodness he was safe, she didn't know what she'd do if he wasn't. but that kind of contentment was shattered easily once she began to become more aware of her surroundings. for one, there was tiger. two, it was out of it's cage and three, it seemed everyone had one idea.
so she stumbled, before there was a familiar silhouette in front of her. gasping, she couldn't believe her eyes. he was protecting her and she appreciated it. she had no idea what she was going to do especially since the static was growing louder and louder. but she did try to do something, so when there was an opening, she kicked sand towards the dangerous animal and found herself running yet again to make sure there was enough distance. she was just worried for everyone else, but if they managed to get through this then... well, she knew it'd be okay.
even though the voices were beginning to tell her that it wouldn't.
[attr="class","nabody"]In just an instant, as soon as the party ran through the door, the scenery changed again. She didn't have any time to understand what was going on, her mind still in utter turmoil from the sudden chaos she was just plunged into. The sun's scorching rays suddenly fell against her skin, the light so strong it caused her to squint. What was all of that? It couldn't be a hallucination. She fell in the museum and felt the pain from such only a moment ago. Not to mention this guy's hand--
She trembled. Just the sight of the severed limb, still unattended, was enough to alert her completely.
Before even fully comprehending the situation entirely, a cage sprung out from the floor, sounds of steel clicking as the cage opened and the beast was unleashed. By this point, her breathing ceased. If only because her mind was in such shock, that she failed to make out anything of this. Why was there a violent tiger here? How did we even get here from the museum?? Why is all of this happening!? Time to worry wasn't even spared, as all of the sudden the party began assaulting the animal.
There was no escape. There wasn't any other way. No one here would help her. And the tiger was coming at each of them, one by one. Then, fighting is the only solution? She was afraid, obviously. Anyone who didn't feel a sense of threat from this bizarre ordeal can easily be labeled 'insane'.
Shaky hand was brought forward, another clasping at her wrist as she struggled to steady herself on her legs. If there was any time to use that spell, it'd have to be now. But what was it!? She knew of it, one particular spell she could use here. A strong gust of wind to blow sand at the tiger, or even to avert its attention-- Anything, that would be perfect here! So why couldn't she remember!?
With not even an a word coming to mind, the process flew right by her. Desperately, Juliet picked up some sand, biting at her lip as she flung it at the tiger. Only hoping it would miraculously reach its eyes. Anything to stall until she remembered it.
your group completed the win condition of the previous round. no particular deaths have occurred, though injuries may occur/continue to occur at your own discretion. [break][break] the previous win condition was a group effort. the condition was to entertain the crowd congratulations, and good luck once again! you'll be needing it.
[attr="class","stafftemptitle"]
group b round 4
"All things are real, even dreams. It is just comparative. But all things are real. There is no escaping reality." [break] - unknown, untitled grimoire[break][break]The crowd yells, enough to make the ground rumble in their excitement. The witches have impressed them with a show of glory. Fortunately, none of the witches have sustained major injuries against the tiger. They've distracted and prodded it enough to hold it off for now. Tail flickering in agitation, it sulks angrily, walking back and forth between the witches, unwilling to continue the fight. [break][break] Before long, the crowd notices. A fickle mob, they start to yell and boo at the witches. Neither the tiger nor the witches have shed blood. Imposters, they cry, frauds. Their screams echo across the stadium, thousands among thousands of angry voices boom in the witches' ears. [break][break] It's not long before they take action. Bottles of empty ( and not so empty ) drinks aimed at the witches' heads, food and trash, among other things. They possess no sympathy. And in response to the crowd, the witches will hear roars in the distance. If they look around, they'll see more deep red eyes, tigers staring at them from the edges of the coliseum. They strain at their cages, and the crowd wishes for them to be released.
[break][break] The mob doesn't seem to stop soon. Their boos and insults are relentless.
[attr="class","m2content"]they are holding their own ( for now ). the tiger paces, and they all wait with bated breath. for a moment, maddox's world shrinks to the himself, the group, and the tiger; time slows. then the crowd cries for their blood, a single, roaring voice; their ire rains down from the stadium. for the moment, the spell is broken.[break][break]
a bottle narrowly misses him -- it smashes into the ground beside him, cushioned partially by the sand just enough to shatter its base, and glass fragments scatter across the sand.[break][break]
( the crowd is unrelenting; their cry continues; hounds baying for blood. ) [break][break]
he knows this is stupid. he knows that anyone with any vague semblance of logic would consult another. he knows sima will be mad at him for this but -- maddox catches sima's gaze from across the sands and winks -- he's not known for taking safe courses of action. ( he knows that he's being selfish and that if this doesn't kill him, someone probably is going to, but he does it anyway. )[break][break]
you would think gambling with your life loses its novelty after a while, but when death stalks the sands, paces with a striped coat, and a dozen clones waiting behind, it really doesn't. he grabs the broken bottle, curses himself quietly, and clicks his tongue to grab its attention. he takes a step towards it, one arm behind his back, and that's all the invitation it needs. snarling, it[break][break]
leaps--
[break]
and suddenly he's on the ground, claws digging into his shoulders, another firmly pinning a leg down -- he distantly wonders if the claw has hit bone, and pain takes a moment to set in -- and he laughs, a high-pitched, hysterical giggle.[break][break]
then he takes the bottle, its jagged end glinting in harsh sunlight, and shoves it into the tiger's open maw.[break][break]
for a moment the claws dig in deeper, before it scrambles off, snarling; he takes the opportunity to drag himself backward on the sands, past the point of terror -- he's distantly amused by his own audacity. the sand is red beneath him.
[attr="class","m2icons"]
[attr="class","m2icons2"]
[attr="class","m2hov2"]ONE MAN'S OBSESSION IS ANOTHER MAN'S TRASH
[attr="class","intext"]Sima caught dear Maddox's eyes and with his wink his stomach twisted and dropped. No, no, don't do something stupid now, don't— Too slow, too slow, he's always too slow and too late is he shouting Maddox's name, blood already spilled on golden sand. He couldn't get his feet to move across the sand fast enough, but he made it to him and by his side he fell to his knees. Sima pushed the jacket given to him earlier onto seeping wounds. Harder, harder, make the bleeding stop, because Maddox can't die. If he does, Sima has—
Sima is the sun. He burns and burns and his love never wanes. He grabbed Maddox's hands and pushed them to his wounds. Hold fast and hold hard, but Sima can't get the words out. Maddox is smart, though, and he knew to keep pressure on the bleeding. His heart ached and he felt like he couldn't breathe. If his own grevious bleeding stopped when the dream changed, though, then the fastest way to deal with this is get through this.
Sima is the sun. He burns and burns and his wrath is unrelenting. His remaining hand grabbed another broken bottle from the sand and he turned to their attacker. He shouted at the tiger and foreign insults lept from his lips like knives. Magic buzzed at his fingers and he twisted the mana around the sand, used expel trigger to direct the tiger to him. It wss easy enough. Pitiful thing couldn't even get the bottle out of its mouth and so it simply crushed it with its powerful jaws, shards of glass embedding themselves throughout its mouth. Sima felt satisfied in its bleeding, in that Maddox hadn't been injured for nothing. If the tiger thought it would get away with just a mouthful of glass, though—
Sima took advantage of how distracted the tiger was in its injuries to attack, driving the broken bottle into its neck after narrowly dodging a swipe at him. Dig it in deep, twist it hard, and bleed it for all it has. There was no hesitation in him, no grief for killing what might be considered a majestic animal. No remorse or guilt, all there was in him was anger and grief and he'd take down the source if it was the last gods damn thing he did.
The tiger bellowed at the attack and retaliated and Sima was a step too late, claws swiping across him. Lucky, lucky, ah it only tore at his shirt, but the proximity made him stumble and gasp, the spinning for a moment. He grounded himself and grabbed another bottle. Again, again, until he didn't have to anymore or until he couldn't.
The tiger had backed off, and that was as much as Cassius could hope for. The cat learned to be weary of the people in front of it, much like it should.
The crowd on the other hand, had grown furious in its lack of entertainment. While the initial show did much to whet their appetite, it had returned more voracious, as little blood had been shed. Their roars of enjoyment turned into insults, glass, trash and the like began falling into the stadium about them. The crowd wanted blood.
His compatriots did their best to dodge.
Cassius did less.
Memories of the pits flooded into his head, the drunken mercenaries and assassins gathered round the upper banks, safe upon their perch from the dogs Cassius faced. The memories of the wounds, the anger, and the release that had acted as the catalyst of his meeting with Beck. Cassius himself was flooded by a dark sea of repressed emotions, and the last thing he would remember, was looking up at the top of the Colosseum wall, and seeing the silhouette of his mother, standing disapprovingly, ad giving him that heartless look of disappointment, before his personality melted into the sea of black.
A man in the crowd screamed an obscenity as he tossed the bottle overhand at Cassius' head, shattering upon the back of the bone plate that surrounded him, and had seemed to start growing and twisting across his frame with a newfound energy.
"Yes, Mother," softly came from his lips, the jaws of the bone suit rattling eerily. "Nothing comes without sacrifice." His head slacked back, arms thown into the air as he yelled and addressed the crowd, his voice coming out with a false air of life, disturbing to any who would have known the man inside. "YOU WANT YOUR BLOOD?" he yelled, met with a rapturous and angry approval from the crowd. He ignored the scene going on behind him, the one man being shredded, the other desperately trying to cut the armored beast with the trash glass that now lay scattered.
"THEN I SHALL GIVE YOU YOUR BLOOD!"
He turned and marched towards the fight, the one man fighting at the moment getting a swipe across the back. As the man grabbed another bottle, Cassius put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back, marching calmly towards the beast, a sick but quiet cackle emmenating from the bone form as magic began to swirl and cackle in his left arm, the obviousness of its blatant overload and misuse apparent to any who would look at it.
He heard nothing. Not the baying of the additional tigers. Not the bloodlust of the crowd. Not the frantic sounds of those he was with. He simply saw in slow motion, the body of the half tiger, half dog beast that jumped a full pounce at him, its mouth open wide. He threw his full arm down its gullet, a reaction the beast didn't seem to expect as it landed on him, dislocating his shoulder.
The magic buildup was rapid at this point, Knockerbacker fully misfiring and turning the bone-covered appendage it was loaded into into a bomb that sat inside the tiger. As his arm violently ripped itself apart, the bone ripping through the beast and sending Cassius flying back towards the wall, only one sentence would escape his lips, "So long, old friend."
it's by some miracle that they are actually alive, some kind of miracle that is clearly given. but by the looks of it, luck was slowly running out like a sand timer. and before anyone knew it, the tiger seemed to just not have interest in them anymore. which was good, at least at the moment. but she didn't trust it, she wasn't sure if she trusted anything that was happening anymore because all of these things seemed to just be playing tricks on her mind again and again and again. what was reality? what was a dream? there were many more questions she wanted to ask and her body shook in both anticipation and fear of what was the come. would they die here? would they live? she wasn't sure but as soon as she heard the crowd, her stomach dropped further than the first time.
she clutched the cloak tighter to her body, eyes darting around catching site of more tigers. blood thirsty. for her blood? she wasn't sure. she hoped not. but they hadn't been released which is what she was grateful for. she couldn't focus on really anything around her and her vision was becoming blurred and scattered the longer she tried to force air into her lungs. all she could do was maneuver through and try to dodge the objects being thrown towards them.
now she wasn't sure if she could participate in the killing of the tiger even if it did mean harm, but she did move about almost in a bunny like way. it was comical really.
and then she saw something that would be ingrained in her mind forever. while she had been busy trying to do something -- anything. even kicking sand whenever the moment arises.
there was cassius and blood and the tiger and blood and oh god there was blood.
she was frozen, body numb and she felt faint. really faint. she felt sick.
there was nothing but pure static now. she forgot how to breathe. forgot how to think. to see. to hear. to know. everything.
[attr="class","nabody"]Booing sounds and insults coming from the crowd is what happens to catch Juliet's attention as soon as she's done throwing sand. Almost as if she did something wrong, she stopped, looking up to the crowd. Fully ignorant to the two tigers waiting at bay behind two extra cages, that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Trash was being thrown at them soon, though in such shock that she was in, the blond couldn't fully understand why exactly, were they doing that.
And she didn't have any extra time in that, as very soon, a glass bottle managed to find its way to her head. A direct hit, its edge smashed straight into a corner of her forehead. The girl was downed with that, falling onto the golden sand.
...She felt warm. An odd warmth. It wasn't the sun's rays or the scorching sand repelling the heat, though. It was her head. Her breathing was missed for a moment, before returned; lungs functional again. Ragged breathing left through her mouth, as her forehead's dampness collected sand grains as it laid upon the ground. Her vision turned blurry, and her hearing seemed to fade. She could see it. The four she came here too, Cassius included, fending off the tiger with what they could dish out. It was... Impressive. They were, really, really brave.
She has to do something, too.
If by some miracle, her thoughts were in order. Head clear, or heavily disrupted from the hit she took. Blood cascading down her face, causing her right eye to close on cue, as it dropped down onto the floor, and onto her clothes with every awfully calm step she took. Towards the beast. Towards the struggle. She had to do something, too. She could, do something, too. Yes, that spell. She finally remembered it... The full procedure. Only one thing about it worried her slightly. "It's to be cast... In an open space...?" Well, this arena is an open space.
Though that is certainly not what the spell meant.
Hand slowly brought up, palm fully opened as her arm stretched out; another hand, grabbing at her wrist as Julie made her way forward, to the armored beast. Like that. Devoid of worry concerning more trash falling, the tiger's attack, or even the crowd's deranging calls. Wait, that priority is messed up, isn't it? She'd have to make sure the others were out of harm's way, too. If she helped, it would be good. She has to do something, too. When they all make it out of it, maybe they can all, be friends, maybe?
The beast sharply turns to the blond, already swinging at her. Its senses were diluted by the growing, strong scent of blood and ash, but it still managed to move. However, even that was a moment too late. If in complete unawareness of her surroundings or in actual bravery, Julie's palm was brought as close as possible to the beast's eye, practically tapping onto its helm. Her eyes, almost blank. Thoughts, running through trivial matters, really. Would mom and dad be mad at me for hurting a tiger? ...No, they wouldn't. Because I helped someone. Right?
Scroll #13.
A powerful blast of wind, confined to no space at all, wrecked the tiger's eye as blood burst, gushing through its eyehole. She was hoping to reach its brain with that, or possibly blind it completely. That same spell blasted her away from the rampaging beast, hand broken completely as her body flipped twice in the air with the force of the blast, smashed into the sand as the girl's voice strained to groan in the sudden growing pain. But only for a moment.
As the loss of blood, from her head wound, the shock she took and the pain and internal bleeding in her right hand, soon numbed her senses--
your group failed to complete the win condition of the previous round. as a result of your actions, Sima Pahlavi has met their end. [break][break] the previous win condition was a group effort. the condition was to fight the crowd and throw an object back my condolences, may you have better luck in the future.
[attr="class","stafftemptitle"]
group b round 5
"Dreams will prevail as long as sleep does. And one may purify illusions, one may destroy transfigured beasts, one may dominate a summon, and dilute the greatest of all potions. But one must always sleep. Sleep, like death, is inevitable. " [break] - unknown, untitled grimoire[break][break] The crowd yells, but they have moved on. It is too late. They care little about the fight, and have already begun anticipating the arrival of the next batch of beasts. The gates unlock and rows upon rows of monstrous tigers reel forth. [break][break] The area descends into a mad fit of blood and armor- they are too few against too many. And then doom and desperation reign. In the chaos, Sima Pahlavi is separated from the group. Sharp teeth tear away until little remains- there is nothing they can do to help. [break][break] In a sudden jolt, the characters wake up. [break][break] All but Sima Pahlavi . [break][break] The first thing they notice is that the room is cold and dark and a stark contrast to the sunny and golden Coliseum from before. A wave of relief rushes through them (have they finally, finally, woken up?). And then their head tilts. And they find that they are alone. And that the whole place smells of disinfectant and that the only light is a dim little torch in the corner of the room. Upon further inspection they will realize that they are not alone and that instead their friends have been placed in adjacent rooms separated by glass. [break][break] When you try to get up to reach them, you'll find your limbs strapped to the edges of the bed. In the hall, you hear a series of light footfalls that get louder with each passing second. [break][break]
[attr="class","m2content"]he's silent, quietly obedient as sima redirects his hands to the wounds -- apply pressure, don't die, or something else that rhymes -- and gives only a nod as the other breaks away to commence an attack. he's watching, mesmerised, mechanically hauling himself back up until he's standing once again. the group lays waste to the tiger; but one is not enough. ( he should have known better. )[break][break]
it is a rapid descent into the planes of hell -- of blood and armor and a claw raking across his back and teeth narrowly missing his neck. and he's frustrated through it all; there is nothing to purify, this isn't a problem he can simply solve through brute dictation; he wriggles out of a tiger's claws, looks over his shoulder and suddenly sima is ( a cry torn from his throat, desperately reaching out. takes two steps, "sima--" )[break][break]
gone--[break][break]
there's so much blood.[break][break]
he doesn't trust himself enough to speak. or, really, everything is choked, the world is frozen, cold; his eyes can't comprehend what just happened. then he wakes up.( again. )[break][break]
it is cold and unforgiving and the bed equally so. he shivers, a wave of nausea rising, but quelling just as quick when he tilts his head to survey his surroundings. glass bisects the distance between him and his neighbours, faces now familiar even despite dim light. an attempt to move, weak at first, is met with restraint.[break][break]
his first thought: caught. they've been caught -- sima and himself -- a play by the knights. the work of a skilled athenian, perhaps, or illusionist. ( blood. so much blood. it plays in his mind, over and over again. ) they are caught, sima's fate yet unknown if not dead ( the word echoes ).[break][break]
and it's all his fault.
[break]
anger is quicker to settle than grief. he thrashes against the bonds, to no avail. "for fuck's sake--" he's not going to let sima's death go in vain-- "help me!" words hissed, dripping venom, twisting towards the light footfalls. advice given to him regarding torture: if they want you to scream, scream.[break][break]
"i know you can hear me--" ( who is he talking to? it's unclear whether it is grief or rage that twists his voice, but it comes out red, raw, bleeding. ) "if you can hear me-- shit-- just-- help me!"
[attr="class","m2icons"]
[attr="class","m2icons2"]
[attr="class","m2hov2"]ONE MAN'S OBSESSION IS ANOTHER MAN'S TRASH
Cassius got up, the bone already closing over the new wound. His mind was singular, his purpose all-consuming in the torrent of visions he could not distinguish from reality. It was her voice however that cut through the darkness and pain to reach him. His form turned to the small girl, his mind wrestling for control. It took him a minute, but the pain of memories fell off of him, and he realized what he had done.
But there was little time to realize it.
The cages for the additional tigers had already begun opening.
Cassius did the only thing he could do.
He sprinted for Ai, throwing himself over her on the ground like a dome as the tigers came. They clawed, and scratched and bit, but his hulking form of bone denied them access to the girl. He could feel the claws digging in to the bone.
As he stood there, only two words whispered from his mouth on repeat to the girl, the faceplate of bone turning back into his face.
"I'm sorry."
Suddenly, as sudden as any other transition in this cursed evening, he found himself waking up strapped to a table, once across each of his three limbs, and a fourth across his chest. He struggled momentarily against the strains before turning to look about him.
It was cold stonework, and the only light given by a single torch in the corner. However, looking around, he saw familiar shapes through the glass walls beside him. He could hear one of the men from earlier. He was off towards the end, but he was yelling something. It was muffled.
But then he saw Ai. Tied down in the room next to his. He was furious.
And then he heard footsteps.
"HEY! LET ME OUT!" He cried into the proverbial darkness. "I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME ASSHOLES! HELP ME! LET ME OUT OF THESE MORGANA-DAMNED RESTRAINTS! LET ME OUT OF HERE, OR I SWEAR ON MERLIN'S BEARD WHEN I DO IT ON MY OWN, YOU'RE ALL GOING TO BE DEAD MEN!"
words undelivered. rushing, rushing. tigers, the smell of iron. a weight upon her chest. static upon static. she can't breathe. why can't she breathe? she's scared. what does she do. what can she do. god, help me. help me. she's unsure of anything at all. her mind is numb and scattered. he was alive? how? why? when? what? all these unfiltered questions that she barely noted the change of scenery. it was all a blur to her and she was beginning to grow used to the shaking of her fingers, the rush of her heart and the lack of self as she begin to see black spots dance around her vision. she didn't want to pull through.
and then they were strapped down. she didn't care to move. her body probably wouldn't allow her to either. her mind was exhausted. eyes red and tears running down her cheeks. she laid there, quiet.
when would this end? when would those blurred faces stop haunting her. and oh god, cassius. when would he be safe? she had seen him endure so much in the span of what ultimately seemed like just a few minutes. but a thought hit her and she flinched at the sound of their voices. yelling, screaming for help. but her voice was gone, thrown out into the wind. what could she do?
shifting, she tried to thrash about but her limbs were too weak. she felt pathetic. useless. and fumbled until her body and bed fell to the floor with a loud clang. that would surely notify someone of her presence. but at the same time there was a chance she wouldn't be hurt. she'd go to rot away.
her body was in pain, mental state a mess.
she let herself cry, sob. she let herself release a broken-hearted wail of all the emotions that had been steadily rising and rising.
