as he steps to the right, the air becomes warmer, immediately and perceptibly so. the light flickers ahead of him, casting warmly onto the stone ground under his feet - paved. that purple fog is still here, and it drifts down from up above, obscuring the structures of the forest as they start to give way. the trees are thinning out a bit, and the path continues forward.
the young female voice starts to sound familiar.
"It was an accident." she says. "I didn't know it was going to end like that... I was just - I just want to be good." ]
[ Nothing here should sound familiar. This is not his world, nor is it Oceanside and the only girl in the group that came here is not a child. Ponta suddenly feels an urgency that he wasn't concerned with before.
While he still thinks about how to place the voice, he begins running. Can he figure out who this is before he arrives to see her? ]
[ as ponta starts to run, it feels like an effort in futility.
no matter how fast he moves - and he is fast - it feels like he's going nowhere. he pushes through trees as they seem to bow over on him. as they're pushed away, they slap back, sharp branches cutting into any place of bare skin, little, tiny injuries, scrapes.
no matter how much he runs, he won't ever see her, but the voice, he might know. it belongs to mika.
but he doesn't get to think about it for too long, because it changes, melding almost smoothly into a female voice, older, instead. I loved you, Citrus. I loved you. ]
[ Mika!! The first person he truly came to like in the brightly colored hell that is Oceanside, and the first one to be lost. In her final night alive, she told him a number of things that shaped the rest of his stay.
To show your true self to somebody, because getting along on false pretenses might be meaningless.
It took a week longer, but it had been Mika's words that allowed him to come clean to Team Fox.
If she's here in some form, he wants to see her and---
And then there is another voice and Citrus stops dead in his tracks. He hasn't heard her voice in years, but there's no way he could forget it. If this is Eri, he'll know. ]
of course it's eri's voice. why wouldn't it be? when he stops, it seems to grow louder. a single, purple black hand drags up from the ground and wraps around his lower leg, claws opening and spreading across the fabric of his clothes, ever so slowly, the second he stops.
the fog starts to press in.
You took everything from him. After all we did for you. Everything, Citrus. ]
[ There's a purple hand of evil on his leg and it doesn't even register because that's her voice and he hasn't talked to her in years. She's saying all the things she would never say to him in reality, because she's much too kind for it.
Citrus remembers the pain in her eyes as she looked down on the field, her gaze going right past him to the man she loves.
He'd understood then that while Eri may have been his only family to him, she had a world out there that he didn't belong in. That he damaged. A husband, a child of her own... ]
It... it was an accident. I didn't mean to, I was just--
[ I was just trying to make you happy.
He sounds like Mika now, he realizes with a start, and that draws him out of his stupor just enough to finally take notice of the grip on his leg. Shit--
Trying to keep the lantern balanced in his left hand, his right goes for the dagger and slashes at the hand. ]
[ eri's voice echoes around you, even though there's no way she could be here. it gets louder, in the encroaching darkness, as it melts into the area, as the purple fog starts to become cloying. it pulls on the back of ponta's clothes. it begs. stay with me.
eri's voice rings out further. An accident...yes. My world was never the same. Io's, either. You came into our lives, and we lost everything.
Was it worth it, Citrus? Ponta? Was it -
ponta snaps free of his stupor, and realizes he's being attacked, but it's worse than he thought. there isn't one hand - there are two, three, four. the largest one is big enough to grab him across the chest, squeezing, hard, enough to crack ribs, enough to squeeze life - the smaller ones are grasping at his legs, tearing open his clothes and rending deep gashes into his flesh.
worse still: the hands are pulling him along, deeper and deeper into the shadows. upon close inspection with the ground, he can still see the stone of some kind of temple, as he is being dragged with some sort of unholy force inwards, into the fog, into whatever is in there, waiting. ]
[ Hearing her voice call him Ponta feels like a slap to the face. That she's seen the identity he chose for himself, the life he ran away to, and disapproved of it.
It is almost merciful when the ghostly fingers dig into him and he can hear his own bones make an uncomfortable sound that bones should not be making. He can't scream, though he wants to. All he can get out are agonized gasps and moans as warm blood gushes down his legs.
Not like this, he can't end like this...
In a last ditch effort of strength, Ponta jams the dagger into the ground and attempts to use it as a safety anchor, halting the movement dragging him backwards. ]
[ give into the darkness. eri's voice says. just let go, citrus. just let go. look at what you've done to me. look at what you've done to you.
ponta's dagger catches - the first time, it breaks with a shink noise, jerking his wrist painfully, glancing off of stone. the hands pull hard and continue to pull, threatening to nearly yank his leg free from his hip socket, nearly to tear the flesh into ribbons - but the second time he digs his dagger into the ground it catches in a divot in the stone of the temple. eri's voice picks up volume, joining into cacophony, a chanting, repetitive, so loud that it drowns out everything - the world starts to look like a void -
[ "So you're planning to make use of my body? Alright. Do it. It'll be more convenient for me anyway. I'm going to take you over and use you back."
His own words, as he's seen them displayed in a comic strip just this week. They ring in his head now, because there's been another time when someone asked him to give in and surrender. He'd failed then, and lost himself entirely.
He can't let that happen a second time, not even when it's Eri beckoning him. He's lost her long ago. What's done is done. Her voice is never going to say 'Citrus' with the same warmth ever again - but there are people who will.
Citrus hates Oceanside. But to Oceanside, he must return. ]
P-piss off---!!
[ He clings to the dagger for dear life. Whatever wind magic he has is severely dampened by his injury making it hard to focus, but he tries summoning it as well, little gusts of it blowing at the hands like toothless threats. ]
[ i won't make you roll for this. ponta's dagger digs harder into the stone.
whatever it was that was pulling shrieks. there's a burst of bright blue somewhere from far away - it's enough that it weakens its grip. the combination of ponta's determination to hold on, his determination to make it home, and the consistent determination of his attacks help.
the wind magic bats uselessly at the hands. they drag him back another step - two, three, but there's a doorframe to grab onto at the entrance of the temple. with the people who will help you lighting your determination, you feel the flare of your lantern now a few feet away. the light is white, and then a flare of blue.
the truth lies in the flame.
it's not enough to scare it off, not completely. (luna voice) couldn't be me though
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
as he steps to the right, the air becomes warmer, immediately and perceptibly so. the light flickers ahead of him, casting warmly onto the stone ground under his feet - paved. that purple fog is still here, and it drifts down from up above, obscuring the structures of the forest as they start to give way. the trees are thinning out a bit, and the path continues forward.
the young female voice starts to sound familiar.
"It was an accident." she says. "I didn't know it was going to end like that... I was just - I just want to be good." ]
no subject
While he still thinks about how to place the voice, he begins running. Can he figure out who this is before he arrives to see her? ]
no subject
no matter how fast he moves - and he is fast - it feels like he's going nowhere. he pushes through trees as they seem to bow over on him. as they're pushed away, they slap back, sharp branches cutting into any place of bare skin, little, tiny injuries, scrapes.
no matter how much he runs, he won't ever see her, but the voice, he might know. it belongs to mika.
but he doesn't get to think about it for too long, because it changes, melding almost smoothly into a female voice, older, instead. I loved you, Citrus. I loved you. ]
no subject
To show your true self to somebody, because getting along on false pretenses might be meaningless.
It took a week longer, but it had been Mika's words that allowed him to come clean to Team Fox.
If she's here in some form, he wants to see her and---
And then there is another voice and Citrus stops dead in his tracks. He hasn't heard her voice in years, but there's no way he could forget it. If this is Eri, he'll know. ]
no subject
of course it's eri's voice. why wouldn't it be? when he stops, it seems to grow louder. a single, purple black hand drags up from the ground and wraps around his lower leg, claws opening and spreading across the fabric of his clothes, ever so slowly, the second he stops.
the fog starts to press in.
You took everything from him. After all we did for you. Everything, Citrus. ]
no subject
Citrus remembers the pain in her eyes as she looked down on the field, her gaze going right past him to the man she loves.
He'd understood then that while Eri may have been his only family to him, she had a world out there that he didn't belong in. That he damaged. A husband, a child of her own... ]
It... it was an accident. I didn't mean to, I was just--
[ I was just trying to make you happy.
He sounds like Mika now, he realizes with a start, and that draws him out of his stupor just enough to finally take notice of the grip on his leg. Shit--
Trying to keep the lantern balanced in his left hand, his right goes for the dagger and slashes at the hand. ]
no subject
eri's voice rings out further. An accident...yes. My world was never the same. Io's, either. You came into our lives, and we lost everything.
Was it worth it, Citrus? Ponta? Was it -
ponta snaps free of his stupor, and realizes he's being attacked, but it's worse than he thought. there isn't one hand - there are two, three, four. the largest one is big enough to grab him across the chest, squeezing, hard, enough to crack ribs, enough to squeeze life - the smaller ones are grasping at his legs, tearing open his clothes and rending deep gashes into his flesh.
worse still: the hands are pulling him along, deeper and deeper into the shadows. upon close inspection with the ground, he can still see the stone of some kind of temple, as he is being dragged with some sort of unholy force inwards, into the fog, into whatever is in there, waiting. ]
no subject
It is almost merciful when the ghostly fingers dig into him and he can hear his own bones make an uncomfortable sound that bones should not be making. He can't scream, though he wants to. All he can get out are agonized gasps and moans as warm blood gushes down his legs.
Not like this, he can't end like this...
In a last ditch effort of strength, Ponta jams the dagger into the ground and attempts to use it as a safety anchor, halting the movement dragging him backwards. ]
no subject
ponta's dagger catches - the first time, it breaks with a shink noise, jerking his wrist painfully, glancing off of stone. the hands pull hard and continue to pull, threatening to nearly yank his leg free from his hip socket, nearly to tear the flesh into ribbons - but the second time he digs his dagger into the ground it catches in a divot in the stone of the temple. eri's voice picks up volume, joining into cacophony, a chanting, repetitive, so loud that it drowns out everything - the world starts to look like a void -
g̶i̷v̸e̷ ̶i̸n̷t̸o̷ ̸t̴h̷e̸ ̴d̶a̷r̷k̵ g̴̫̔i̵̐͜v̴̯͝e̶̱̕ ̷̜̐i̷͖͐n̸̘͝ṯ̴̅o̷̜͊ ̴̟̓T̵͙͠Ḥ̵̿É̴͍ ̵̥̅D̵̜̊A̷͈̽R̴̬̃K̶̭̀ ̷G̵̪̲͂Ỉ̶͓̒V̶͕͛͋Ę̸͔̌ ̸̡̇I̶̺͔͆Ṇ̴̓̎T̷̪̦̎Ơ̶ͅ ̴̧̬̉T̷̛̹̋H̴̞̅E̴͕̔ ̵̞̻͒́Ḍ̶̘͛A̴̝̓R̵̰͍̕K̶̼͚͋ G̵̪̲͂Ỉ̶͓̒V̶͕͛͋Ę̸͔̌ ̸̡̇I̶̺͔͆Ṇ̴̓̎T̷̪̦̎Ơ̶ͅ ̴̧̬̉T̷̛̹̋H̴̞̅E̴͕̔ ̵̞̻͒́Ḍ̶̘͛A̴̝̓R̵̰͍̕K̶̼͚͋ G̷̣̙͉͕͑̈Ḯ̷̡̨̥͈̃V̷̠͉̗̓̔̕̚E̵̛̛̘̻ ̶̧̹͕̜̅̿̏I̴̼̽͗͛̂N̶͔̿T̸̛̬̜̐̐̓O̶̙̾ ̷̛̣̗͈̔͆̎ͅ
[ well?
do you?
wouldn't it be easier to let go? ]
no subject
His own words, as he's seen them displayed in a comic strip just this week. They ring in his head now, because there's been another time when someone asked him to give in and surrender. He'd failed then, and lost himself entirely.
He can't let that happen a second time, not even when it's Eri beckoning him. He's lost her long ago. What's done is done. Her voice is never going to say 'Citrus' with the same warmth ever again - but there are people who will.
Citrus hates Oceanside. But to Oceanside, he must return. ]
P-piss off---!!
[ He clings to the dagger for dear life. Whatever wind magic he has is severely dampened by his injury making it hard to focus, but he tries summoning it as well, little gusts of it blowing at the hands like toothless threats. ]
no subject
whatever it was that was pulling shrieks. there's a burst of bright blue somewhere from far away - it's enough that it weakens its grip. the combination of ponta's determination to hold on, his determination to make it home, and the consistent determination of his attacks help.
the wind magic bats uselessly at the hands. they drag him back another step - two, three, but there's a doorframe to grab onto at the entrance of the temple. with the people who will help you lighting your determination, you feel the flare of your lantern now a few feet away. the light is white, and then a flare of blue.
the truth lies in the flame.
it's not enough to scare it off, not completely. (luna voice) couldn't be me though
but perhaps you'll get some aid from your comrades...? ]