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[UMINEKO SPOILERS] Heart (Scored) - Zyrak/Ember
"when the seagulls cried, none were left alive"...
But this isn't such a sad story.
This is a story about love.
"when the seagulls cried, none were left alive"...
But this isn't such a sad story.
This is a story about love.
For a moment, it's dark. You can't see anything around you but you know that you are in a room. A room with four walls, a ceiling, and a firm floor you stand atop. The sounds of a lock being thrown, of chains rustling through the space are really the only things that give you any hint as to how big the space is before a cold metal locks firmly around your throat. Reaching up to your neck, however, reveals nothing is actually there. You can't feel it with your hands, just by the weight of it settled right against the skin when you breathe or swallow. Only once that weight's in place does the room illuminate--
It's a bedroom. Or rather, a guestroom. A western styled guestroom with two beds, a nightstand, and wardrobe sitting out on the floor. There are windows on one of the walls, doors on two other walls. One leads to a bathroom with a toilet, sink, and tub with shower head. The other is the exit, locked as evident by the chain lock firmly in place on the door.
You know instinctively: <in order to get to your goal, you must find a way out of this room>.
Fortunately, it's a pretty comfortable room. The sun is streaming in through the window, illuminating it in a pretty cheerful atmosphere--if not for the ominous clouds in the distance. And the purple thorny vines pressing into the room through the cracks of the window's framing. But the room's so comfortable, surely there's no real problem or need to rush…
It's a bedroom. Or rather, a guestroom. A western styled guestroom with two beds, a nightstand, and wardrobe sitting out on the floor. There are windows on one of the walls, doors on two other walls. One leads to a bathroom with a toilet, sink, and tub with shower head. The other is the exit, locked as evident by the chain lock firmly in place on the door.
You know instinctively: <in order to get to your goal, you must find a way out of this room>.
Fortunately, it's a pretty comfortable room. The sun is streaming in through the window, illuminating it in a pretty cheerful atmosphere--if not for the ominous clouds in the distance. And the purple thorny vines pressing into the room through the cracks of the window's framing. But the room's so comfortable, surely there's no real problem or need to rush…
It's a bedroom. Or rather, a guestroom. A western styled guestroom with two beds, a nightstand, and wardrobe sitting out on the floor. There are windows on one of the walls, doors on two other walls. One leads to a bathroom with a toilet, sink, and tub with shower head. The other is the exit, locked as evident by the chain lock firmly in place on the door.
You know instinctively: <in order to get to your goal, you must find a way out of this room>
Unlike the previous room, however, there seems to be a growing clutter of objects strewn around the room, as if quickly stashed into the space without real thought to their places. A pile of casserole dishes that seems to have claimed a corner, some swords propped against a wall, a lute next to the first bed, a sharpened stick with a wet tip on the floor, a notebook with a feather quill left on the nightstand, some tarot cards left strewn underneath the notebook, a flower crown dangling on the curtains' rod, a dragon plush that seems to be staring at you ready to spring to life at a moment's notice half under second bed, with a bird-like monster with a witch hat laying right next to it.
Probably there are more things under the beds but you might be distracted by what's on them, instead: a collar hanging on the bedframe of the first bed, a red dress crumpled and thrown carelessly onto the first bed, a gun's holster that's half on the nightstand and half falling onto a pillow of the second bed.
Fortunately, the room is still… fairly comfortable. The sun has been swallowed up by the dark clouds rolling in. Outside, the wind is picking up, causing trees and flowers to sway harshly in its grip. The low rumbles of thunder in the distance signals the arrival of the storm, reverberating throughout the room, bringing some unease and foreboding to the heart.
The purple thorny vines pressing into the room through the cracks of the window's framing have spread even further, creeping along the walls. You want to think everything will be fine, you'll fix things and get out of this intact and with no one the wiser that there was ever a problem, but steadily, the doubt creeps in…
You know instinctively: <in order to get to your goal, you must find a way out of this room>
Unlike the previous room, however, there seems to be a growing clutter of objects strewn around the room, as if quickly stashed into the space without real thought to their places. A pile of casserole dishes that seems to have claimed a corner, some swords propped against a wall, a lute next to the first bed, a sharpened stick with a wet tip on the floor, a notebook with a feather quill left on the nightstand, some tarot cards left strewn underneath the notebook, a flower crown dangling on the curtains' rod, a dragon plush that seems to be staring at you ready to spring to life at a moment's notice half under second bed, with a bird-like monster with a witch hat laying right next to it.
Probably there are more things under the beds but you might be distracted by what's on them, instead: a collar hanging on the bedframe of the first bed, a red dress crumpled and thrown carelessly onto the first bed, a gun's holster that's half on the nightstand and half falling onto a pillow of the second bed.
Fortunately, the room is still… fairly comfortable. The sun has been swallowed up by the dark clouds rolling in. Outside, the wind is picking up, causing trees and flowers to sway harshly in its grip. The low rumbles of thunder in the distance signals the arrival of the storm, reverberating throughout the room, bringing some unease and foreboding to the heart.
The purple thorny vines pressing into the room through the cracks of the window's framing have spread even further, creeping along the walls. You want to think everything will be fine, you'll fix things and get out of this intact and with no one the wiser that there was ever a problem, but steadily, the doubt creeps in…
The moment the chain lock is removed, the door swings open without issue. The lights flicker. The sound of chains moving echo in the room again, and you can feel the weight on your throat get heavier, the pressure tightening. Reaching up to your neck still reveals nothing is physically there.
You exit the room. Whether you intend to just now or not, there's not really an option. There's a pull against your neck, the invisible collar attached to an invisible leash. The sound of chains is so loud as you're dragged forward--you made this choice to continue, you chose to go further and deeper, and it's getting difficult to breathe.
The lights go off again. You can't see anything. But you know you're now in another room.
You exit the room. Whether you intend to just now or not, there's not really an option. There's a pull against your neck, the invisible collar attached to an invisible leash. The sound of chains is so loud as you're dragged forward--you made this choice to continue, you chose to go further and deeper, and it's getting difficult to breathe.
The lights go off again. You can't see anything. But you know you're now in another room.
It's a bedroom. Or rather, a guestroom. A western styled guestroom with two beds, a nightstand where an old turn-style phone sits, a dresser, a table with a basket of candy sitting on it and a couple of chairs pushed under, and wardrobe sitting out on the floor. There are windows on one of the walls, doors on two other walls. One leads to a bathroom with a toilet, sink, and tub with shower head. The other is the exit, locked as evident by the chain lock firmly in place on the door.
You know instinctively: <in order to get to your goal, you must find a way out of this room>
That might prove to be a little difficult when the room you're standing in the middle of is covered in blood. Puddles of the red substance pooling in various locations throughout the room. It looks just like a crime scene of some mass murder--including a dried out corpse sitting cozily on a bed--y'know. If there wasn't streamers in black and orange spelling out HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
What a relief, it's just a Halloween party.
Except there are words written in that same red substance on the wall where the purple thorny vines have spread to, covering some of the words with loops and curls that seem to resemble letters of their own:
They owed their fortunes to the Golden Witch.
They were cursed by their own greed.
The culAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
It's uncomfortable. The darkness growing deeper outside as the wind howls and the rain can be heard beginning to fall, the backdrop to this scene that you don't want to believe is real, know is real, can't accept as real, forced to remember always as the reality--you don't want to be here, you don't want to be here! The feeling of someone, or something watching in through the windows, taking such delight in the scene before you, is oppressing and you know that the only way to escape it is to leave the room.
You know instinctively: <in order to get to your goal, you must find a way out of this room>
That might prove to be a little difficult when the room you're standing in the middle of is covered in blood. Puddles of the red substance pooling in various locations throughout the room. It looks just like a crime scene of some mass murder--including a dried out corpse sitting cozily on a bed--y'know. If there wasn't streamers in black and orange spelling out HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
What a relief, it's just a Halloween party.
Except there are words written in that same red substance on the wall where the purple thorny vines have spread to, covering some of the words with loops and curls that seem to resemble letters of their own:
They owed their fortunes to the Golden Witch.
They were cursed by their own greed.
The culAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
It's uncomfortable. The darkness growing deeper outside as the wind howls and the rain can be heard beginning to fall, the backdrop to this scene that you don't want to believe is real, know is real, can't accept as real, forced to remember always as the reality--you don't want to be here, you don't want to be here! The feeling of someone, or something watching in through the windows, taking such delight in the scene before you, is oppressing and you know that the only way to escape it is to leave the room.
The moment the chain lock is removed, the door swings open without issue. The lights flicker. The sound of chains moving echo in the room again, and you can feel the weight on your throat get heavier, the pressure tightening. Reaching up to your neck still reveals nothing is physically there.
You exit the room. Whether you intend to just now or not, there's not really an option. There's a harsh pull against your neck, the invisible collar attached to an invisible leash. The sound of chains is so deafening as you're dragged forward--you made this choice to continue, you chose to go further and deeper, you chose to lose those precious seconds to get air and start to choke. You're running out of time. At this rate....
The lights go off again. You can't see anything. But you know you're now in another room.
You exit the room. Whether you intend to just now or not, there's not really an option. There's a harsh pull against your neck, the invisible collar attached to an invisible leash. The sound of chains is so deafening as you're dragged forward--you made this choice to continue, you chose to go further and deeper, you chose to lose those precious seconds to get air and start to choke. You're running out of time. At this rate....
The lights go off again. You can't see anything. But you know you're now in another room.
Enjoy Elliot trying to use magic swords on someone magic can't lock onto.
Ushiromiya Battler knows he and Elliot Nightray are too damn similar.
You also have the strong feeling you can usurp this truth with your own red or blue truth.
You instinctively know that a red truth is objective and undeniable.
You instinctively know that a blue truth is more malleable, theoretical but must operate within the boundaries set by red truths.
Ushiromiya Battler knows he and Elliot Nightray are too damn similar.
You also have the strong feeling you can usurp this truth with your own red or blue truth.
You instinctively know that a red truth is objective and undeniable.
You instinctively know that a blue truth is more malleable, theoretical but must operate within the boundaries set by red truths.
You love choking on your own tongue when you get to the "so it is" part, right? Apparently that's what happens when you try to force a red truth that isn't objective.
The rest is fine.
Ushiromiya Battler would like the corruption in his heart to be solved.
The rest is fine.
Ushiromiya Battler would like the corruption in his heart to be solved.
Edited 2023-02-17 18:46 (UTC)
Oh la la, it's Battler being lewd, you were there for it. But now experience it from Battler's end!
Ushiromiya Battlertrusts Kuroro Lucifel with Beatrice. will only trust Kuroro Lucifer with Beatrice if Kuroro Lucifer submits to him.
Ushiromiya Battler
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