It was in April that the Creator announced that the experiment was a failure and that every person who had been brought to Duplicity through the LIES program would be 'returned home'--and under no uncertain terms, the dead would return to death.
They were given two days to settle their affairs and say their goodbyes. Tomoe spent them caught between doubt, anger, fear and resignation. Part of her questioned if it was real or just another cruel game, but the chance that it was real and the ramifications of that were too great. She always looked to the worst-case scenario, after all. Somewhere in the daze she made arrangements to have her most precious belongings—if they still existed after she was gone—ritually burned. She did not like the idea of them being defaced or abused—especially the contents of her butsudan. It was only the tiny glimmer of hope that this was all a farce that kept her from burning it all herself.
She had few people to say goodbye to, or rather, few who mattered enough to pull precious time away from those who she was truly close to. It was a time to tell them what they meant, but as always her words wouldn’t come, caught somewhere in her throat. But did it really matter? Soon they would forget her and she would just be nothing but ash.
When the time came, while she did not go of her own accord, but she also did not fight the guards when they came for her. She could have. She could have run and then fought tooth and nail to avoid her fate—but she knew how that would end. It would end with her depowered and dragged there anyway, and then her final waking moments would be spent in the hellish isolated silence that was the absence of the Plant connection to Vash. And she needed to keep every last moment, right to the end.
She had dressed herself in the white kimono she had arrived with. She had never thrown it away, despite the memories it brought back and despite the fact that it bore the poorly repaired tear from the sword strike that had killed her and the yellowed stain of her blood that couldn’t quite come out of the fabric. It felt fitting. If they would send her back to this fate… she may as well look the part. She even went one step further, folding her kimono right over left as it would be for a corpse. She hoped at least one of them knew the significance--and she hoped she would haunt their dreams.
Her last moments had been with Vash and Gale--the later far calmer in his acceptance--and she found herself trying to assure Vash of the lie that everything would be alright. That this was the way it should be... and begging him not to do anything that would cause the link to be severed. She needed to feel his presence. Facing those doors alone was simply too terrifying...
When the guards came for her she met his eyes, lifting her chin proudly in a show of strength she didn't really have. She was guided to the door and despite the fact that she was in a room brimming with people she couldn't help but feel like she was back in the binding forest again, walking to her doom. Only this time there was no greater good, no husband to save, nothing. She was going simply because she was too afraid of the inevitability... and she hated it. Still, she did her best to hide it from Vash, trying with all her might to block him off from those feelings.
It's alright... she spoke through the connection. This is the way it should be... She paused before the door, catching a glimpse of darkness on the other side as it opened before turning back to see Vash and Gale, forcing herself to smile for them despite how unnatural it felt. Turning back to the door she steeled herself before she could lose her nerve... and stepped through on her own before they chose to shove her. Goodbye...
It is difficult to recognize which she becomes aware of first--the utter vacuum of silence and isolation in her mind, or the fact that she was aware of it. Tomoe's eyes snap open and she stare blindly upward, her breath caught in her chest as she searches the darkness and the quiet, reaching across the connection for something that simply wasn't there. The last time it had happened it had gone from a pleasant surrounding hum to an echoing whisper as the number of Plants in Duplicity decreased from three to two with Knives' disappearance. But nothing could prepare her for this all-encompassing silence when it fell to only her.
It takes a few moments to process the world, frozen in the horror of that silence, but once she does everything snaps into focus. Everything from the last two days comes back, mixing with the shock of disconnection--bringing a wave of rage. It had been a lie. A trick. A game. She was still alive--they stole the peace of death from her again after she had managed to accept it--it was never going to be over, the pain would just go on and on without end--and now they had taken Vash from her too. And she felt that loss, more than any other, to the physical core of her being, as though a piece of her had been ripped away.
She is frozen on the ground, blind to her surroundings in shock--but anyone or anything present would not be blind to her. There is the crackle of static in the air and a hum as pressure seems to build from nowhere centered over her prone body. Her eyes widen and the color drains from her skin, her eyes turning white even as tears begin to stream from them--
--and she screams, the sound tearing from her throat and echoing through the silence of the severed connection, her body lurching up from the ground feathery tendrils explode from her form, her energy cores reacting from her distress, her body morphing both to accommodate the fluctuation and also to defend itself from the threat--except there is no threat present.
She continues to scream, the flurry of wings slamming into her surroundings and doing blunt force damage to objects they come into contact with. There are words, but they are difficult to make out--Why--What more do you want--Give him back--Don't leave me behind--Just let me die--they are lost in the wailing as she twists out of shape, limbs lengthening disproportionately as she tries to move and new wings and feathers sprouting from every new surface. All the while the pressure in the air remains, the hum has become something shrill and a near miasma of fear and despair hangs in the air.
Time had no meaning, for time required perspective--as did Reality. The being was beyond reality now as most knew it, a state transcending realities but for a sole space with no time that anchored it. That existed as little but a dream, and a caretaker. Attuned however, to certain aspects of Reality, and certain beings. Provided an anchor anew, and called by Humanity's cries.
----
It was a forest on the outskirts of a town, with a path leading inward. Not often traveled, but occasionally a shortcut to the highway. A moment, a shadow passing as clouds moved, and then a human was standing at the beginning of that path. Covered entirely from head to toe, save for their eyes and part of their hair under the hat. Light armor at best, with a long concealing coat. An older pistol attached to a weapons belt, and a queer folded blade with jagged edges in their other gloved hand.
Walking, knowing without being aware of how they knew where to go. Using that time as they entered the forest to come back to who they were. Or rather who the being had used to be. Who he used to be, for the being remembered being a man. Human. Something more now, as there were gaps within the memories. A name, what he had been doing last--rushing back suddenly in a torrent of emotions and memories. A moment's pause in his stride to absorb and process before continuing on.
Noting the scream, the sounds of impact, the rustle and crash of wood and leaves and limbs. The feel of darker emotions, raw, assaulting otherworldly senses of perception beyond the real. Pale golden-brown eyes are resolute above the concealing scarf, below the hat with jagged edges that used to form a tricorn. The pace quickening slightly before coming across what most would consider a nightmare.
The Hunter had faced Nightmares before however and slain them. A moment to observe, gauging, studying--and welcoming the fact that for once he did not need to spring right in against a threat. A flick of his hand and wrist, the folded serrated blade transforming into a pole-arm, lengthening. Not yet brought to bear as strides brought him closer and the gloved and gauntletted hand without a weapon reached out. "You are not a Beast." Voice pitched to project, with unconscious authority behind it that echoed. Spoke of something more than the human shape and shell worn by the Hunter. "I will warn you once. Control yourself, or you will die."
The words barely register with her--and had it been a normal human speaking she likely wouldn't have heard them at all with how lost she was--but the voice seems to reach beyond audible perception. At first, the feathered mass seems to grow in reaction to the words if not the figure. Somewhere inside the mass Tomoe's mind latches onto them. 'You will die'--yes, that is what I want--death would be better than this-- But even as her mind latches onto that thought others manage to push themselves in--images of the man whose absence had driven this reaction from her, not of his warm smile and his kindness, but his anguish and crushing guilt, the dead eyes he had whenever the anniversary of Lost July approached, her own assurances that he was not a monster echoing that statement of 'you are not a beast'.
It rips another scream from her, but the timbre shifts as she begins to come back to herself--the realization that she couldn't let this happen. 'Control yourself.' If she didn't pull her energy back in line it was easily possible. 'You will die.' The cries become those of a struggle rather than wild ravings as she tries to calm herself. Even if she wanted to die in that moment who knew what she would take with her. She could not risk another Lost July. Even if Vash wasn't there, even if she would cease to be, somehow, somewhere, he would end up shouldering the blame--and that thought draws a sobbing laugh from her for the simultaneous absurdity and certainty of it.
The wild movements slow, and bit by bit the wings begin to shrink back, some feathers falling free in the process. Eventually her body will be visible as the feathers recede, crumbled on her hands and knees, dark hair falling from its tie and framing a face that is still too white. She breathes heavily, half sobbing as tears continue to stream down her cheeks. She finally looks up to see the man before her as her eyes become dark and the color returns to her flesh. A few more breaths as the last few feathers recede into her body, melting straight through her clothing as if it wasn't there before she collapses face first into the dirt and leaves, a miniscule body compared to the seething mass he had come upon.
It was unlike any beast transformation the Hunter had seen before. Usually those were only one-way, not a return to human form. It--she--was unlike but not to any of the Great Ones either. New mysteries clearly going on here---wherever here was. Long strides brought him closer, as he moved first to examine the feathers. Which were not feathery at all from what inspection could be made visually and through his gloves. Pondering that for several moments, and only when he was steady once more, would he move to the woman.
Checking for a pulse, for breath, and that she still lived. Then the next question was...where now. A slight frown under the scarf that concealed most of his face, before the Hunter changed his weapon once more to its shorter form, then replaced it. He wouldn't leave her lying on the ground at least, as the Hunter knelt carefully to gather her up. Perhaps he could find a clearing or something.
When she awoke, she'd find that's what had happened. She was lying on a long canvas and leather coat with the mantle draped over her. It was almost dark, and there was a serviceable fire nearby. The Hunter sat nearby on the ground, writing in a small leather journal and just as covered up as before despite the lack of concealing duster and mantle.
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carisma_sensei
Insomnia
Date: 2023-11-21 04:56 am (UTC)1/2
Date: 2023-11-22 06:02 am (UTC)They were given two days to settle their affairs and say their goodbyes. Tomoe spent them caught between doubt, anger, fear and resignation. Part of her questioned if it was real or just another cruel game, but the chance that it was real and the ramifications of that were too great. She always looked to the worst-case scenario, after all. Somewhere in the daze she made arrangements to have her most precious belongings—if they still existed after she was gone—ritually burned. She did not like the idea of them being defaced or abused—especially the contents of her butsudan. It was only the tiny glimmer of hope that this was all a farce that kept her from burning it all herself.
She had few people to say goodbye to, or rather, few who mattered enough to pull precious time away from those who she was truly close to. It was a time to tell them what they meant, but as always her words wouldn’t come, caught somewhere in her throat. But did it really matter? Soon they would forget her and she would just be nothing but ash.
When the time came, while she did not go of her own accord, but she also did not fight the guards when they came for her. She could have. She could have run and then fought tooth and nail to avoid her fate—but she knew how that would end. It would end with her depowered and dragged there anyway, and then her final waking moments would be spent in the hellish isolated silence that was the absence of the Plant connection to Vash. And she needed to keep every last moment, right to the end.
She had dressed herself in the white kimono she had arrived with. She had never thrown it away, despite the memories it brought back and despite the fact that it bore the poorly repaired tear from the sword strike that had killed her and the yellowed stain of her blood that couldn’t quite come out of the fabric. It felt fitting. If they would send her back to this fate… she may as well look the part. She even went one step further, folding her kimono right over left as it would be for a corpse. She hoped at least one of them knew the significance--and she hoped she would haunt their dreams.
Her last moments had been with Vash and Gale--the later far calmer in his acceptance--and she found herself trying to assure Vash of the lie that everything would be alright. That this was the way it should be... and begging him not to do anything that would cause the link to be severed. She needed to feel his presence. Facing those doors alone was simply too terrifying...
When the guards came for her she met his eyes, lifting her chin proudly in a show of strength she didn't really have. She was guided to the door and despite the fact that she was in a room brimming with people she couldn't help but feel like she was back in the binding forest again, walking to her doom. Only this time there was no greater good, no husband to save, nothing. She was going simply because she was too afraid of the inevitability... and she hated it. Still, she did her best to hide it from Vash, trying with all her might to block him off from those feelings.
It's alright... she spoke through the connection. This is the way it should be... She paused before the door, catching a glimpse of darkness on the other side as it opened before turning back to see Vash and Gale, forcing herself to smile for them despite how unnatural it felt. Turning back to the door she steeled herself before she could lose her nerve... and stepped through on her own before they chose to shove her. Goodbye...
no subject
Date: 2023-11-22 07:00 am (UTC)It takes a few moments to process the world, frozen in the horror of that silence, but once she does everything snaps into focus. Everything from the last two days comes back, mixing with the shock of disconnection--bringing a wave of rage. It had been a lie. A trick. A game. She was still alive--they stole the peace of death from her again after she had managed to accept it--it was never going to be over, the pain would just go on and on without end--and now they had taken Vash from her too. And she felt that loss, more than any other, to the physical core of her being, as though a piece of her had been ripped away.
She is frozen on the ground, blind to her surroundings in shock--but anyone or anything present would not be blind to her. There is the crackle of static in the air and a hum as pressure seems to build from nowhere centered over her prone body. Her eyes widen and the color drains from her skin, her eyes turning white even as tears begin to stream from them--
--and she screams, the sound tearing from her throat and echoing through the silence of the severed connection, her body lurching up from the ground feathery tendrils explode from her form, her energy cores reacting from her distress, her body morphing both to accommodate the fluctuation and also to defend itself from the threat--except there is no threat present.
She continues to scream, the flurry of wings slamming into her surroundings and doing blunt force damage to objects they come into contact with. There are words, but they are difficult to make out--Why--What more do you want--Give him back--Don't leave me behind--Just let me die--they are lost in the wailing as she twists out of shape, limbs lengthening disproportionately as she tries to move and new wings and feathers sprouting from every new surface. All the while the pressure in the air remains, the hum has become something shrill and a near miasma of fear and despair hangs in the air.
[reference pics: white eyes feathers wings RAAAAR]
no subject
Date: 2023-11-22 07:20 am (UTC)----
It was a forest on the outskirts of a town, with a path leading inward. Not often traveled, but occasionally a shortcut to the highway. A moment, a shadow passing as clouds moved, and then a human was standing at the beginning of that path. Covered entirely from head to toe, save for their eyes and part of their hair under the hat. Light armor at best, with a long concealing coat. An older pistol attached to a weapons belt, and a queer folded blade with jagged edges in their other gloved hand.
Walking, knowing without being aware of how they knew where to go. Using that time as they entered the forest to come back to who they were. Or rather who the being had used to be. Who he used to be, for the being remembered being a man. Human. Something more now, as there were gaps within the memories. A name, what he had been doing last--rushing back suddenly in a torrent of emotions and memories. A moment's pause in his stride to absorb and process before continuing on.
Noting the scream, the sounds of impact, the rustle and crash of wood and leaves and limbs. The feel of darker emotions, raw, assaulting otherworldly senses of perception beyond the real. Pale golden-brown eyes are resolute above the concealing scarf, below the hat with jagged edges that used to form a tricorn. The pace quickening slightly before coming across what most would consider a nightmare.
The Hunter had faced Nightmares before however and slain them. A moment to observe, gauging, studying--and welcoming the fact that for once he did not need to spring right in against a threat. A flick of his hand and wrist, the folded serrated blade transforming into a pole-arm, lengthening. Not yet brought to bear as strides brought him closer and the gloved and gauntletted hand without a weapon reached out. "You are not a Beast." Voice pitched to project, with unconscious authority behind it that echoed. Spoke of something more than the human shape and shell worn by the Hunter. "I will warn you once. Control yourself, or you will die."
no subject
Date: 2023-11-24 05:58 am (UTC)It rips another scream from her, but the timbre shifts as she begins to come back to herself--the realization that she couldn't let this happen. 'Control yourself.' If she didn't pull her energy back in line it was easily possible. 'You will die.' The cries become those of a struggle rather than wild ravings as she tries to calm herself. Even if she wanted to die in that moment who knew what she would take with her. She could not risk another Lost July. Even if Vash wasn't there, even if she would cease to be, somehow, somewhere, he would end up shouldering the blame--and that thought draws a sobbing laugh from her for the simultaneous absurdity and certainty of it.
The wild movements slow, and bit by bit the wings begin to shrink back, some feathers falling free in the process. Eventually her body will be visible as the feathers recede, crumbled on her hands and knees, dark hair falling from its tie and framing a face that is still too white. She breathes heavily, half sobbing as tears continue to stream down her cheeks. She finally looks up to see the man before her as her eyes become dark and the color returns to her flesh. A few more breaths as the last few feathers recede into her body, melting straight through her clothing as if it wasn't there before she collapses face first into the dirt and leaves, a miniscule body compared to the seething mass he had come upon.
no subject
Date: 2023-11-25 03:31 am (UTC)Checking for a pulse, for breath, and that she still lived. Then the next question was...where now. A slight frown under the scarf that concealed most of his face, before the Hunter changed his weapon once more to its shorter form, then replaced it. He wouldn't leave her lying on the ground at least, as the Hunter knelt carefully to gather her up. Perhaps he could find a clearing or something.
When she awoke, she'd find that's what had happened. She was lying on a long canvas and leather coat with the mantle draped over her. It was almost dark, and there was a serviceable fire nearby. The Hunter sat nearby on the ground, writing in a small leather journal and just as covered up as before despite the lack of concealing duster and mantle.