[ Indeed, even in another world, even though his parents were swallowed up by oblivion, he cannot let their sins go without someone knowing that they had happened.
He asks to see the day that his sister died.
Ornate, beautiful walls create a long, winding hallway. Everything about the setting gives the impression of unreasonable and sickening wealth. He pauses as he sees his younger self -- a child that could even be a pre-teen yet. The child walks carefully while holding a glass of milk. It sloshes about and he has to slow his steps, because if he were not careful, the milk might spill on the rugs.
The child walks all the way to a room before opening it up. This room is bare with only a chair set in the middle. A young woman sits in it; her hair a dull shade of blonde. Her body is distorted, twisted in unnatural manner. This does not come from a broken memory, but rather how she looks. When she sees him, she smiles.
But there is someone else in the room with her; a looming dark figure. It is but a shadow; he does not remember what his father looks like anymore and so it is a caricature of a person. He smiles to think that while the sin will play out -- the man's face will not be remembered by anyone.
The gun fires and his poor sister is murdered. Blood splatters all over the chair that she sits on; she slumps over. More red pouring everywhere on the floor. He watches as his child self runs forward; the glass he was so careful to carry smashes on the ground. White mixes with red. Yet he is not able to reach out to his sister.
He is stopped and held back. "If you touch that thing, you'll end up distorting, too!" The voice is warped and barely sounds human. The child can only look on in horror and despair. ]
Ah, Father. When she was suffering, why couldn't you understand her? Why did you have to blame her? Why couldn't you have tried to protect her even a little bit?
i-b. reflecting pool: eternity (cw: body horror)
[ This is more to steel his spirit than anything else. ]
I sometimes wonder if I have gone mad and nothing here is real, but even I could not think up this world.
[ He does not really wish to remember this, but he does wish to garner sympathy. Archangel is nothing if not a little theatrical at times, but he does feel irritated at having people see what his real body looks like.
The scene is pulled up. He marvels over how it is created. The endless black appears above them and below. The area fills with the sounds of inhuman screams -- all of which sounds like it is in pain. When the screams stop, that is when incoherent apologies fill the darkness.
And then there is himself. Speared through the back on top of a Consciousness Orb, he breathes out as he looks upon himself. What a miserable sight it is. He hangs there at a diagonal position; the spike from the orb penetrating through his lower back and coming out his chest. Not only that, but it looks like it has fused in and through his body.
He smiles sadly as he watches himself furiously attempt to dig and pull himself up off the spike, but unable to do so. He can only hang there, suspended in the air; he can only look around at nothing but the dark and listen to the screams. ]
You know, this actually got boring after a few years, but in the beginning, it was quite tortuous.
archangel | zenith | savant
[ Indeed, even in another world, even though his parents were swallowed up by oblivion, he cannot let their sins go without someone knowing that they had happened.
He asks to see the day that his sister died.
Ornate, beautiful walls create a long, winding hallway. Everything about the setting gives the impression of unreasonable and sickening wealth. He pauses as he sees his younger self -- a child that could even be a pre-teen yet. The child walks carefully while holding a glass of milk. It sloshes about and he has to slow his steps, because if he were not careful, the milk might spill on the rugs.
The child walks all the way to a room before opening it up. This room is bare with only a chair set in the middle. A young woman sits in it; her hair a dull shade of blonde. Her body is distorted, twisted in unnatural manner. This does not come from a broken memory, but rather how she looks. When she sees him, she smiles.
But there is someone else in the room with her; a looming dark figure. It is but a shadow; he does not remember what his father looks like anymore and so it is a caricature of a person. He smiles to think that while the sin will play out -- the man's face will not be remembered by anyone.
The gun fires and his poor sister is murdered. Blood splatters all over the chair that she sits on; she slumps over. More red pouring everywhere on the floor. He watches as his child self runs forward; the glass he was so careful to carry smashes on the ground. White mixes with red. Yet he is not able to reach out to his sister.
He is stopped and held back. "If you touch that thing, you'll end up distorting, too!" The voice is warped and barely sounds human. The child can only look on in horror and despair. ]
Ah, Father. When she was suffering, why couldn't you understand her? Why did you have to blame her? Why couldn't you have tried to protect her even a little bit?
i-b. reflecting pool: eternity (cw: body horror)
[ This is more to steel his spirit than anything else. ]
I sometimes wonder if I have gone mad and nothing here is real, but even I could not think up this world.
[ He does not really wish to remember this, but he does wish to garner sympathy. Archangel is nothing if not a little theatrical at times, but he does feel irritated at having people see what his real body looks like.
The scene is pulled up. He marvels over how it is created. The endless black appears above them and below. The area fills with the sounds of inhuman screams -- all of which sounds like it is in pain. When the screams stop, that is when incoherent apologies fill the darkness.
And then there is himself. Speared through the back on top of a Consciousness Orb, he breathes out as he looks upon himself. What a miserable sight it is. He hangs there at a diagonal position; the spike from the orb penetrating through his lower back and coming out his chest. Not only that, but it looks like it has fused in and through his body.
He smiles sadly as he watches himself furiously attempt to dig and pull himself up off the spike, but unable to do so. He can only hang there, suspended in the air; he can only look around at nothing but the dark and listen to the screams. ]
You know, this actually got boring after a few years, but in the beginning, it was quite tortuous.
ii. and some other prompts!
[ BUT FROM A LOG.
If you'd like to comment on the log, cool! If you wanna comment to the prompts on this comment, also cool. I'm down for whatever. ]
iii. wildcard
[ If none of these prompts work, throw something at me for the event! o7 ]