PLAYER PLOT: Enfenim

[mythalenaste]

WHO: Pel, Sina, Cyril, Beleth, Sorrel, Myr, Saoirse, side of Anders and Alistair
WHAT: A demon has trapped Pel in the Fade.
WHEN: Forward-Dated to 25 Firstfall
WHERE: The Gallows, the Fade
NOTES: Trigger warning bonanza for insects, body horror, corpses, dismemberment/maiming, death, illness, drowning, blood + will update if any more happen.

What am I to do with all of these dolls?
They've covered the floors, they've covered the walls.
They're stacked up chin-high all over the floor,
But my greedy child is screaming for more...

Comments

[samahl]

The moment his mother appears Cyril has decided he's honestly had enough of this place. Before this moment, if asked he would have stated he didn't fully remember what the woman looked like, but when she appears here he knows exactly who she is meant to be. Unlike the demon's puppet creature or the corpse of Merrick though, he just manages to feel annoyed and tired.

Only the thought that Pel needs to be in control stops him from trying to shoot the vision of his mother with an arrow. He's more angry that the demon would use her to taunt Pel than anything else. Perhaps he should feel shocked or hurt over it, but honestly she's such a long forgotten dream to him that he doesn't know how to grieve for her.

Then Pel does take control and the creature disappears. The body that is shaped like his mother falls and for some reason he can't get his legs to work right away. It's only when Pel has made herself a sword and spoken to the child version of Sina that he's able to pull his gaze away from the empty shell that looks like the woman from his faintest memories and move.

[faithlikeaseed]

There's something almost pathetic about the demon when it finally appears, something that Myr'd be inclined to pity, had he not met its like before. (Save all of that academic sadness over the Maker's first children for later, when it's safe.) As it is, his expression goes flat and fixed at the demon's pleading, eyes shifting from it back to the encroaching undead. Pel needs to do this but they're running out of time...

And then the roots erupt like a sprouting miracle and put paid to the Childe's handiwork, provoking a quiet oath out of Myr. There's so much they never learn in the Circles, so much that was only hinted at in rumor and vituperation against the heathen. Actually seeing it gives a reason why and it's hard not to watch.

Yet: "Run!"

After a display like that, he's not one to argue with an order to run. Yet still he lingers a moment--faintly envious of Pel's handiwork--before turning back toward the tower as ordered. The expression on Cyril's face catches him mid-stride; he can't know what it is about any of this that's troubling the other man, but that dull look hardly needs an explanation. "You're all right?" he starts to ask--

And the dream shifts, landing them on halla-back. Myr makes a startled noise and grabs for whoever's nearest.

[mythalenaste]

Something snaps at their heels as they are carried up the stairs--something shaped like a werewolf, running on all fours after them. Pel swings the ice-sword and takes off its head. It seems to be the only follower--until they arrive at Pel's room, where the Childe stands alone, guarding the door.

"Please," it wails. "Please, Pel. You--you're my mother. You gave me form. You gave me a name. I loved you the only way I knew how, that's all I did!"

Pel dismounts from the halla and gives it a pat. Sword in hand, she approaches the demon. She is not afraid. She is angry. Deep down, there is a little pity for this trembling being, but not very much. This thing, this parasite tormented her for years, whispering in her ear. It kept her from people, it made her play her entire life safe, it hobbled her ability to make new attachments. She has lived alone, dealt with trials alone, trembled at worst-case scenarios that never came to pass alone. Because of this demon.

"You were probably a benevolent spirit once," she says quietly. "You probably did love me, if you're capable of love. I used to think you were some kind of petty god of death, but you're just a pathetic little leech. Taking away my fear is my job."

"But it's not--" The demon doesn't have the chance to finish. Pel's sword arcs out, opening its chest. Then she thrusts forward, ending it. The demon dies impaled on ice, and seconds later, its body dissipates into the Fade. Pel tosses the sword aside and pushes open the door to her room, and halts at what she sees.