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Entry tags:
- !event,
- arcane: silco,
- arknights: gavial,
- black butler: sebastian michaelis,
- culture (the): demeisen,
- divinity original sin: fane,
- enderal: jade the prophetess,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fate grand order: tezcatlipoca,
- fate/: rin tohsaka,
- fate/: sakamoto ryouma,
- fire emblem: shez,
- fire emblem: yuri leclerc,
- forgotten realms: raphael,
- howl's moving castle: howl,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): link,
- life is strange: chloe price,
- oc: liem talbott,
- oc: matt jamison,
- pumpkin scissors: alice l. malvin,
- suikoden: yuber,
- terra e: tony asuka,
- tsubasa reservoir chronicle: subaru
THE ADVOCATE ORACLE - A RIP VAN WINKLE IN TIME
Sweet dreams are made of Bliss
As the twilight falls, and bearers begin to tuck in for their evenings on the night of the 15th of March (OOC time) and whether they tuck themselves into bed fully, or simply drift away in the middle of their dinner, work, indulgences, or what have you; bearers will fall into a deep, deep sleep. Perhaps you slump in your chair, or you wrap your arms around a teddy bear, or partner, or cup a precious shard in your sleep, it doesn’t matter, because as you drift away, into a sleep that seems to tug you under like the undertow itself, a question will echo in bearer’s minds: “If given the choice, would you show compassion in the face of adversity?”
It sticks with you, even as you fall into a dreamless sleep. As if it rotates in your mind, over and over, letting you worm over that. You know for certain what it is, that it is the calming, soothing voice of the Oracle, reaching out to you across the ether, telling you – promise you – that if you accept its promise, you will find that the Oracle could be in your hands. That thought leads you to dream of something else – of home, or your loved ones – of what you are fighting this war for. Even as you dream, you feel a presence next to you, and unlike the Harbinger’s winding, rough digging, this is more akin to a friend, who is asking you soft, coaxing questions. Things like: what was your childhood like? What were your friends like? What did you do? You cannot help but think of them, think of your home and your loved ones. Of where you came from, and how it made you what you are.
The advocate seeks to understand you, and where you come from. You can feel it, that overwhelming Acceptance and love from it, even as you reminisce, compelled to answer the multitude of questions, you can feel something building behind you, around you. “Don’t you want them all to understand this?” the impression is given through communion, and you cannot help but answer: yes.
It sticks with you, even as you fall into a dreamless sleep. As if it rotates in your mind, over and over, letting you worm over that. You know for certain what it is, that it is the calming, soothing voice of the Oracle, reaching out to you across the ether, telling you – promise you – that if you accept its promise, you will find that the Oracle could be in your hands. That thought leads you to dream of something else – of home, or your loved ones – of what you are fighting this war for. Even as you dream, you feel a presence next to you, and unlike the Harbinger’s winding, rough digging, this is more akin to a friend, who is asking you soft, coaxing questions. Things like: what was your childhood like? What were your friends like? What did you do? You cannot help but think of them, think of your home and your loved ones. Of where you came from, and how it made you what you are.
The advocate seeks to understand you, and where you come from. You can feel it, that overwhelming Acceptance and love from it, even as you reminisce, compelled to answer the multitude of questions, you can feel something building behind you, around you. “Don’t you want them all to understand this?” the impression is given through communion, and you cannot help but answer: yes.
Click your Heels together, Dorothy!
As you awake for the first time, it’s alien, the world that meets you. New smells fill your nostrils, new sights, the gravity is perhaps different than you’ve gotten used to on Kenos, even those slight shifts enough to make the world feel wholly different. You remember the advocate’s words, and it wants you to feel what it feels. Understanding. Compassion, and perhaps there is a sense that doing so would hurt yourself in turn, if you understood too much. That is the advocate’s way, after all, isn’t it?
You feel an inexorable, slight tug in your chest. Something subtle and gentle, the slightest of sensations, that gives you a direction. You know it, your mind only just now comprehending the advocate’s confusing impressions via communion, that there is something of this world’s… Soul/center/heart or whatever word you want to use for it. Something about this world that will help you along your path, and help you with the results you so desire. You know it will not guarantee a victory, but surely it will help. Especially as your numbers dwindle from world to world. You are left with an impression from the Advocate -- if you die, they cannot bring you back. There is apology in this, but alone, one oracle is limited. Only united, can they truly change your fate.
The lingering presence of the advocate starts to fade. You know this is a bearer’s world, if not your own. You look around, to see perhaps a familiar face nearby? Or perhaps you are alone. Does it matter? You know that this place belongs to a bearer, but whether they are a friend or an enemy, one has to begin to determine that. You’ll need your wits, you’ll need your strength and resolve to make it to the end of this, won’t you?
After all, as bearers were recently reminded: this is War. This is not simply the fate of this world, but perhaps all, as it will require you to find the answer to this question. So you start to move, you start to look around, explore, and search. For the soul of each world, for the bearers that lie dreaming within, and your foes that will seek you out. Stay steadfast, for the way out will come, if you make it to the end. The longer you spend in each world, however, the more the shadows look darker, and deeper. Hungrier. The more the spaces seem smaller or compressed. As if there is something gnawing away at the sides, making their way to the heart.
You feel an inexorable, slight tug in your chest. Something subtle and gentle, the slightest of sensations, that gives you a direction. You know it, your mind only just now comprehending the advocate’s confusing impressions via communion, that there is something of this world’s… Soul/center/heart or whatever word you want to use for it. Something about this world that will help you along your path, and help you with the results you so desire. You know it will not guarantee a victory, but surely it will help. Especially as your numbers dwindle from world to world. You are left with an impression from the Advocate -- if you die, they cannot bring you back. There is apology in this, but alone, one oracle is limited. Only united, can they truly change your fate.
The lingering presence of the advocate starts to fade. You know this is a bearer’s world, if not your own. You look around, to see perhaps a familiar face nearby? Or perhaps you are alone. Does it matter? You know that this place belongs to a bearer, but whether they are a friend or an enemy, one has to begin to determine that. You’ll need your wits, you’ll need your strength and resolve to make it to the end of this, won’t you?
After all, as bearers were recently reminded: this is War. This is not simply the fate of this world, but perhaps all, as it will require you to find the answer to this question. So you start to move, you start to look around, explore, and search. For the soul of each world, for the bearers that lie dreaming within, and your foes that will seek you out. Stay steadfast, for the way out will come, if you make it to the end. The longer you spend in each world, however, the more the shadows look darker, and deeper. Hungrier. The more the spaces seem smaller or compressed. As if there is something gnawing away at the sides, making their way to the heart.
Around the world in 60 seconds 12 hours
When you find yourself at the end, when you close your eyes – only a blink, but it hangs, as if the momentary motion is enough to suspend you into a suspended space before. You can see the two options stretched out before you – metaphysically – the impression of it. A long, long shadow cast over one. As if there is a presence hovering over and above, like waiting jaws, ready to strike. In the other, there remains…nothing. It is not pleasant, it is not comforting, it simply… is. A sense that there is now a lack of anything, almost like it had never existed before.
Does this world have value? You can feel the Advocate ask. Do you want to give them a chance to live? Or does should this world cease, is there nothing here to save?
And though you are compelled, required to answer, you know this question for what it is. Short-sighted. Both, in the end, will lead to its destruction, but which will you choose? Will you allow the world to continue, even with that long shadow cast, like a hungry beast with snapping jaws; or will you erase it from existence and spare it that oncoming apocalypse?
Does this world have value? You can feel the Advocate ask. Do you want to give them a chance to live? Or does should this world cease, is there nothing here to save?
And though you are compelled, required to answer, you know this question for what it is. Short-sighted. Both, in the end, will lead to its destruction, but which will you choose? Will you allow the world to continue, even with that long shadow cast, like a hungry beast with snapping jaws; or will you erase it from existence and spare it that oncoming apocalypse?
Catch [???] Winks
The last world’s fate decided, bearers float in an endless sea of stars. You can see them all, spread before you. Intermittently, they wink out, swallowed into the darkness, consumed as the shadows, that inky-black nothingness grows ever-larger. It looks upon you, bearers. It is nothing, but you have its attention, and your blood runs cold, your limbs frozen. You cannot move, you cannot speak, you cannot breathe. You feel it, the power of being drawn into it, like it wants to consume you. Like it knows you.
T̸̢̼̯͓̬̘́̀̋̆͊h̷͔̣̱̝͍̬̣͕̄̂͗̆͒͌͜ͅẹ̶̱̩̅͒̿̇͠ ̵̭̹͇͖̔̀ṃ̸̢̧͙̟̼̜͌͆̍͝͝ͅo̴̟̞̓̆̇̐̆͊̽͆̂̀r̶͈̺̮̠͙̗͌ę̸̤̻̈́͐͂̓̊͐̂͆ ̵̡̛͎̩̳̤͔͚̱̼̆̒̓y̴̺̞̹̺̝̤͂ǫ̷̡̣̱̥͊̈́̓͑̕͘ű̵̼͜͜ ̶̨̨̝̟̘̱͇̲̻̪̊͂̽̈̒͊f̴̱̐͌̌̓̋̔́̀͝i̶͖̤͎̬̝̦͒̂g̸̳̰̟̀̓̽̈́̐h̸̼͍̮͎̊̅͗͊̈͋̽̀͘t̴͔͚́̓,̷̨̧̱̠̙̠̙̱̒̍̽̾ ̷̖̰̼̬̟͐̊̂t̶̖̄͂̅̃̍͐̊̑̅͜͝h̴̢̛͙̪̞̫̝̺̋̅̿͛̇̚͝͝ͅͅȩ̶͉̤͍̠́̈͑̏͋̚͘͝ ̸̢̨̧͚̖̤̪̬̪̀̉̐͗̂͆͑̚̕̚c̴̠̩̳͎̲̪͔̟̈́͂̉͑́l̶̡̲̻̣̘̏́ͅo̶̢̧͔͈̬̳̰͈̝̻͌̋̆̃͒͗̏͘ş̴̪̺̣̥̎̽̿͗̒́͛̕̚̚e̴̺͍̤͖͂̇͑͂̋͂̆̾r̴̨̩̈́͋͠ ̷̧͚̲̩̖̋͒̉́͗y̶̘̖̝̑̈͊ǒ̵͚̽u̵͎͍̇̀̏̊̕͝ŕ̷͎̜̘͙̀̋ ̶͇̲̝̞̖̝̣̘̝̬͋d̷͔͈͔̀̿õ̴̝̯͇̹̘̏͗͜ö̵͚͓͆m̵͉̦̫̥̦̞̫͐̆͐̿͊͒͌͋͜.̷̼͈̻̥̜̾̏͐̾̐͆͘͜
You gasp, as you startle awake, and open your eyes for the first time in a long time.
T̸̢̼̯͓̬̘́̀̋̆͊h̷͔̣̱̝͍̬̣͕̄̂͗̆͒͌͜ͅẹ̶̱̩̅͒̿̇͠ ̵̭̹͇͖̔̀ṃ̸̢̧͙̟̼̜͌͆̍͝͝ͅo̴̟̞̓̆̇̐̆͊̽͆̂̀r̶͈̺̮̠͙̗͌ę̸̤̻̈́͐͂̓̊͐̂͆ ̵̡̛͎̩̳̤͔͚̱̼̆̒̓y̴̺̞̹̺̝̤͂ǫ̷̡̣̱̥͊̈́̓͑̕͘ű̵̼͜͜ ̶̨̨̝̟̘̱͇̲̻̪̊͂̽̈̒͊f̴̱̐͌̌̓̋̔́̀͝i̶͖̤͎̬̝̦͒̂g̸̳̰̟̀̓̽̈́̐h̸̼͍̮͎̊̅͗͊̈͋̽̀͘t̴͔͚́̓,̷̨̧̱̠̙̠̙̱̒̍̽̾ ̷̖̰̼̬̟͐̊̂t̶̖̄͂̅̃̍͐̊̑̅͜͝h̴̢̛͙̪̞̫̝̺̋̅̿͛̇̚͝͝ͅͅȩ̶͉̤͍̠́̈͑̏͋̚͘͝ ̸̢̨̧͚̖̤̪̬̪̀̉̐͗̂͆͑̚̕̚c̴̠̩̳͎̲̪͔̟̈́͂̉͑́l̶̡̲̻̣̘̏́ͅo̶̢̧͔͈̬̳̰͈̝̻͌̋̆̃͒͗̏͘ş̴̪̺̣̥̎̽̿͗̒́͛̕̚̚e̴̺͍̤͖͂̇͑͂̋͂̆̾r̴̨̩̈́͋͠ ̷̧͚̲̩̖̋͒̉́͗y̶̘̖̝̑̈͊ǒ̵͚̽u̵͎͍̇̀̏̊̕͝ŕ̷͎̜̘͙̀̋ ̶͇̲̝̞̖̝̣̘̝̬͋d̷͔͈͔̀̿õ̴̝̯͇̹̘̏͗͜ö̵͚͓͆m̵͉̦̫̥̦̞̫͐̆͐̿͊͒͌͋͜.̷̼͈̻̥̜̾̏͐̾̐͆͘͜
You gasp, as you startle awake, and open your eyes for the first time in a long time.
they are night zombies!! they are neighbors!! they have come back from the dead!! ahhhh!
It started with your classic horror movie did you hear that? Then the realization that by that, Matt really meant those screams. And, well, a Shard-Bearer's work is never done. Matt bid Sebastian a hasty adieu and ran off.
Zombies are a known thing on Matt's world, but they have more to do with enslavement of the living through preternatural means than reanimation of the dead. And they definitely don't try to eat people (unless they're told to, he guesses??). So it takes him a little while to figure out what's going on: insensible cannibals staggering around the ship, sinking their teeth into everyone in reach.
He did promise Link he'd try to be defensive in a combat scenario. So his first move is to ward off the first occupied cabin he comes across. ]
You'll be safe if you stay put, [ he says to the stunned occupants, as a gleaming filigree shield fills the doorway. ] No matter what you hear, don't come out!
[ At this point, he's forgotten the cool remove he'd nourished just hours before. "No worries, it's all just a dream." Maybe the other passengers aren't real, or in real danger, but the bloody corpses he's encountered certainly look like they've experienced dire consequences.
So he's feeling some heightened urgency. He probably shouldn't be taking these corners so fast, though. ]
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The resulting bloodbath makes searching for the world shard a hell of a challenge. The scream-filled corridors keep Liem busy as he makes his way through the ship, trying to save as many passengers as he reasonably can and kill all the zombies he comes across. It makes for rather slow going, which means that he, also, is in rather a bit of a hurry.
Though at least Liem can hear the running footsteps of a living person hurrying toward the intersection, and doesn’t automatically start stabbing when Matt careens around the corner and into his person.]
Whoa—
[Trying to pivot out of the way, he grabs at Matt’s chest with his free hand, trying to both steady him and keep him from running bodily into him. Recognition lags a moment behind, so he’s already debating whether he should still be going in for a stab with the blade in his other hand before he realizes who he’s looking at.]
Ma— Matthew. [His mind stutters over the name, auto-correcting partway through. He glances behind him.] Are you being chased?
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This is probably why, when he barrels straight into somebody, he doesn't set them on fire. His breath catches hard in his throat, the impact jostling the thoughts right out of his head. Matt notes first that the person's reaching for his Shard--very zombie behavior--but that their movements are fluid. Absent the shambling, wrong-legged gait that made his stomach plunge when he first saw it. A fraction of a second later-- ]
Liem. [ Breathless, relieved. A flicker of a smile crosses his face. ] Fancy meeting you here.
[ At the question, Matt frowns, casting a glance over his shoulder. Distant screams and crashes seem to emanate from all directions, but the hallway immediately behind him is empty and still. ]
Technically, [ he allows, still getting his breath back. ] Probably? But I think I got some good distance between them and me, so. [ He registers the blood on Liem's white clothes with sharp concern. ] Are you okay? Are you hurt?
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That being the case, he can only be relieved that Matt doesn’t presently seem to be injured.]
It’s not a good place to be, [he admits in response to Matt’s quip. (Flirtation? No, given the circumstances, probably just quip.) Liem’s hand falls from his chest as he steps slightly back, regarding Matt soberly.
Registering the object of the younger man’s gaze, he glances down at himself.]
It’s not my blood. [Most of it, at least. One of the zombies might have gotten a chomp in earlier, but Matt doesn’t need to know that. Besides, any wounds he received closer to the outbreak’s beginning have already healed by now.]
Are you heading [—he almost says “up,” toward the area that hasn’t yet been overrun, before he remembers to whom he’s speaking—] down? [Caution colours his tone.] There are a lot more of them that way.
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He's not presently injured, it's true. But one of his sleeve cuffs rides up as he smooths himself down, revealing a peek of a recent-ish scar. ]
Sounds like down's where I should be then, yeah. [ His expression shifts to one of faint hope. ] Wherever you're going, though, I could protect you. Make shields and things. We never really got into it, but I was pretty good at that during the attack.
[ The one on Springstar, of course. He doesn't tend to think of what happened in Highstorm the same way, for reasons he hasn't fully unpacked but which likely involve civilian casualties. ]
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When he looks back up at Matt’s face, his expression is carefully neutral.]
During the attack? [he echoes. He assumes Matt must mean Zenith’s attack on Springstar, but he can’t recall having seen Matt there, immediately before or after. In fact, he hasn’t seen Matt around Heliopolis at all in the times he’s been there, and he certainly didn’t note his presence in Meridian’s group communion in the days before the Oracle trial began.
Realization sinks into him reluctantly.]
Ah… [Should he be associating with him, then? During the Oracle trial, their aims are surely not aligned.] I don’t need protection. You would be better served saving your magic for other passengers.
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Oh, [ he says, clearly disappointed. ] Well, um, if you're sure ...
Then I guess I'll see you later? [ Something about this feels unfinished, but Matt doesn't know what. Nor is he sure what he might ask Liem to clear things up. "Are you mad at me" is the kind of painfully clingy question he strives never to voice, and besides that, it's inelegant. There are so many other feelings that can move a person. ] Thanks for the tip, about ...
[ He gestures in the direction Liem's come from. Technically there are stairwells down all up and down the Campania, but he recalls there being one nearby. Though before he can make himself walk past, he finds himself adding: ]
Are you sure I can't at least send you off with some good luck?
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He should let Matt go on his way. If he gets mauled by the zombie hoard down below, that’s his business, not Liem’s.
But he can’t stop himself from caring.]
Maybe. I’ll be heading back down, as well; you can come with me if you like.
[It could help his search to have Matt with him, but on some level he knows that isn’t why he offers.]
What are you looking for down there?
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An emotional quandary for a time with fewer zombies, Matt decides. For now, he strives to keep things simple: He nods, and moves to follow Liem down the hall. ]
This might sound kind of strange, [ he hedges. ] But I think I'm looking for the Advocate. [ He steals a glance at Liem to try and gauge whether he does, in fact, find it strange. ] I tried talking to them before--I mean, I tried asking them things, not just giving answers. But they weren't really amenable. And they were really hard to get a read on, magically speaking. But if these worlds are their creation, in some sense ... their dreams ... then there must be some thread of them in here. And maybe helping people is the way to find that thread, or pull on it.
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[Liem isn’t sure he necessarily agrees with all of Matt’s supposition, or expects that interacting with these worlds in any particular way might allow him to commune with the Advocate, but he supposes he has no proof to the contrary. In any case, even if Matt isn’t right, Liem sees no reason to convince him to abandon his current occupation.]
This way. I was heading for the section C stairs.
[Given the state of the ship below, it had seemed both faster and easier to come up here and seek the stairs down again, rather than navigate through the hordes the entire way. He continues on, slowly at first as he looks to see if Matt is following along, then more quickly, wary of the distant sounds of shuffling and screaming from other parts of the ship.]
Is that what you’ve been doing for the last couple worlds? Looking for some sign of it, since it’s the one that brings us to these places?
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Still, he has to try. He knows he doesn't want to play the game as it's presented to them. ]
Yeah, [ he agrees. He's a little ways behind Liem, but picks up his pace when Liem does. ] I have this idea about it, which ... honestly, I got from Set. [ Matt's not sure if it's awkward to bring up Set to Liem? After the whole thing where Set dragged him around Liem's guest bedroom mattress like a beautiful sleep paralysis demon, and then they both cried, and then Set left to presumably go be intimate with Liem, and then the next day Matt was like welp, bye without explaining any of that? Is it awkward? ] That there was a Shard-Bearer who eventually became the Iconoclast Oracle. So I've been trying to track down the Advocate and figure out, um. Who they used to be.
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Even if that’s true, I don’t know if exploring these worlds will tell you much about them.
[Their progress takes them down a relatively abandoned-looking middle-class hallway and toward a sturdy looking door, behind which Liem strongly suspects are more walking dead. The ones he’s seen seemed to have been seeking the upper levels, perhaps sensing the mass of people up above, even from down in the ship’s cargo hold.]
The places are ours, yes? That makes them more our dreams than the Advocate’s, I’d think.
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Maybe the details are ours. [ Semi-willingly as the information was offered, Matt can confirm that everything he said was true. True as he recalls it, which isn't quite the same thing as true objectively--though that just goes to Liem's point. ] But none of this infrastructure would be possible without the Advocate, so I guess ...
I don't know. Maybe the only way to get in touch would be to ask the Tree, like they did before. But either way, I'd rather test out my hypothesis than try to fight people over a dream.
[ No offense .......?
As they near the door, Matt senses--or possibly projects--some hesitation on Liem's part. He slows to a halt. Then he points to the door, glancing to Liem as if to say, Go through, or what? ]
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[He’d think a single Oracle wouldn’t be capable of actually bringing fallen worlds back for a trial like this, particularly considering he’s almost certain the first two worlds shown to them were those of Zenites, but he’s been given to understand that the Timestream is a mutable thing. Perhaps the worlds they are visiting are only mirrors of the ones that were already destroyed, just distant enough from their native realities to have escaped Oblivion’s hunger until now.
When they come to the door, Liem glances at Matt, noting his pointing finger. The muffled sound of scraping and thumping from beyond makes it clear that the stairway is indeed occupied.]
Stay well behind me, [he advises.] If there’s a manageable number inside, we can head down after they’re dispatched. Otherwise, we’re better off trying to seal the door.
[He’s going to open it, unless Matt has strong feelings to the contrary.]
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[ Matt has already taken up a lot of Sebastian's limited time on this venture, even if it was in the interests of helping him. Still, he won't rule out reaching out by Communion, assuming these cannibal creatures don't pose too much of a hindrance.
The increasingly loud thumps suggest they might be kind of a problem. ]
I do have magical powers, [ Matt protests, though in a more or less amused tone. And he does fall back behind Liem with no further complaint. ] Speaking of--one sec.
[ He draws in a sharp breath, one that catches lightly in his throat. There's a sense of light, and warmth, and in the time it takes to think as sun and moon are not afraid, nor ever suffer loss or harm, a sun-warm energy swirls around them, sinking into Liem's skin. ]
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He does smile faintly, though, when Matt says “I do have magical powers.”]
Thank you.
[The spell could be the luck Matt offered earlier, or anything else, but Liem has little fear of the undead past the door regardless. After only a brief pause and a nod, he moves to the door and opens it.
The good news is there is only a slow trickle of zombies currently wandering up the stairs, leaving the stairway mostly empty; the bad is that a small cluster of zombies has already gathered at the door, and they immediately fight to get through it once the way is open. The first to emerge, a well dressed man, gets Liem’s dagger through one eye. While he’s busy stabbing, he catches an older woman around the throat with his free arm, trips her and sends her sprawling backwards, into the living corpse directly behind.
The moves are practised, to be certain, and seem to suggest more strength than one would expect from Liem’s build—but that isn’t why Liem suggested he go first. Even his regeneration is only a slight factor. More relevant, and more apparent as the zombies continue to lunge at the doorway, is that not a single one of them seems to attack Liem, or even notice him, even as he blocks their route through. All of them are trying to go straight for Matt.]
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It's strange. Matt doesn't relish the sight of violence, even against beings that want to eat them. But watching Liem in motion, moving with such devastating efficiency--it's really impressive. Beautiful, even. It can't be the result of his luck spell (right, sorry Liem, it was a luck spell), but maybe Liem doesn't need luck.
At first, Matt's mostly preoccupied trying to think of ways he can be helpful. Other spells he might be able to cast, any objects lying around that might be used to bash in a skull. But eventually, he notices that their attackers don't seem to be trying to get at Liem--they're trying to get past him.
Jesus, he can't taste that good. Matt's eyes narrow. He sucks in another quick breath. ]
Watch out in front, [ he calls. A golden shield weaves itself between Liem and the pearl-draped woman trying to reach past him. It's only a short one, maybe knee height: Matt hopes it's enough to trip or stymie the woman while not hindering Liem too much.
He also hopes he doesn't have to cast too many more spells. They're small, but they're beginning to add up. ]
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It is messy, demanding work. He has to be glad of the fact that it still hasn’t been too terribly long since he’s fed, but even so, by the time a couple more zombies are piled on the floor, he has by necessity got more blood on his nice robes.
One of the last couple zombies manages to stumble over Matt’s barrier as Liem’s busy dealing with another suit-wearing corpse. At least the obstacle means it falls to all fours before it lurches on like a mindless animal in humanoid skin. Liem half-turns, his dagger still buried in zombie skull.]
Matt—!
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He can't tell strictly what order things happen in. One moment, he's watching Liem anxiously, trying to think of ways to help; next, one of the creatures is scrambling towards him, pure hunger in the lurch of its limbs.
And Matt thinks, oh.
He breathes, a long, loud inhale like he's preparing to dive underwater. Light weaves around him like a long coil of golden rope. His hands move, almost as if the light were a real rope he could tug on.
It loops around the creature's arms in a rough handcuff configuration, causing it to crash to the floor. Only two problems: One is that the creature doesn't stop coming for Matt. It now has to move more awkwardly, half a squirm and half military crawl, but its mouth is open and teeth bared. The second problem is Matt. He tries to scurry back out of range, but it's more of a stagger. He's surprisingly winded. ]
Liem--
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He leaps after it, dipping to grab one shoulder and flip the ravenous, person-looking thing over. It flails, trying to right itself, and almost succeeds in whacking him across the face before he forces its bound arms up over its head and drives his blade into its eye.
At which point he pauses, still straddling the corpse, to try to calm his racing system. Matt isn’t the only one who’s a little out of breath.]
Are you well? [he asks, looking up at Matt. He didn’t see the creature actually touch him, but frankly, he wouldn’t blame Matt for deciding he didn’t want to plunge deeper into the zombie-infested ship after all. Most people would definitely be running the other direction by now.] If there are still people in the lower levels, there will certainly be more of those between them and us.
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Oh, I'm f-- [ A stutter of a pause, as he looks back to Liem and sees he's still on top of the corpse he just dispatched. ] --ine. I'm fine. [ He takes a step towards him, offering his hand to help Liem up (and a lopsided smile). In the heat of the moment, he forgets any concerns about keeping his wrists covered. ] I know we're running on a tight schedule here, but maybe a quick break? Just so I can catch my breath.
[ Maybe meditate for a few minutes. Like dancing, fighting seems to use different muscles than Matt's used to, even when he's only participating at a distance. He's still not sure what his body needs in these circumstances. ]
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For now. [As long as no other zombies shamble upon them, that is. Perhaps Liem should slide the corpses somewhere, and close the stairwell door.
But when he gets to his feet, he doesn’t let go of the offered hand.]
Matthew— Is this a recent injury? [He turns the hand he’s holding until the marks on Matt’s wrist stare back at him.] Have you been letting someone bite you?
cw: idk the self-blame here messed ME up, so proceed at ur own risk
I--
[ He doesn't try to pull away from Liem, but he surprises himself by wanting to. Or rather, not wanting to, but not knowing what else to do. He can't say no, of course. That would sound like "I haven't been letting people bite me," and ...
He did. Even the first time, he did. Silco said stop struggling and he stopped. ]
Yeah, [ he says, with the verbal equivalent of a shrug. His eyes lift to Liem's, and he offers a small smile. ] Just helping out.
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(And yes, maybe Liem is that way too—but this isn’t about him.)
Refusing to concede to that obviously deliberate casual tone, Liem sheathes his dagger so his left hand can join his right, folding Matt’s warmer hand between them.]
No vampire here needs you to let them prey on you—and I don’t want to bring you somewhere dangerous if you’re still unwell because of it.
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Still: ]
It's not like that, [ he protests, bristling a little for the word prey. ] And I'm not unwell. I just helped you, didn't I?
[ I'm not a child, he wants to insist, except that even in his head, nothing in the world sounds more childish. Though even if he were a child, it's not like they aren't staffed up with teen soldiers around here. ]
I wanted a break, but I don't need one.
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