oc-writing-corner

[oc-writing-corner]

Stray

“You definitely need some help,” Noir says, pinching his nose. The kid in the alley withdraws into the shadows, grubby clothes hanging off them, and Noir gets the distinct feeling the only reason they’re not hissing at him is the fact they’re too scared.

The gold chain collar is so thin it’s barely visible, well hidden underneath the clothes and dirt, but he saw, and that’s really messed up if it means what he thinks it means.

It’s gonna be a cold night, and the kid looks half starved, even if it wasn’t for all the other reasons Noir has to do something about that.

“Chill,” he says, holding his hands up. “I’m human.” he adds.

The kid blinks. Then straightens up. “Oh thank the hillkings I thought I smelled…”the kid moves forward  a bit then narrows their eyes. “I do, you’re somebody’s Pet aren’t you…  They let you roam?”

“Hoboy,” Noir says and pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is gonna be a fun chat. Mind if we don’t have it out here?”

The kid shrugs, steps forward once more out of the half cover that hid most of them from view, and Noir thinks he needs a medal for not even flinching.

“Short version is no, I’m nobody’s pet.” Noir says and grits his teeth as he looks at the marks on the kid’s skin, faintly glowing and intricate. Also dotted with steel nails where they start at their hands.

It really really shouldn’t be physically possible to not fuck up a limb doing that, but magic nudges a lot of very bad things into the realm of possibility.

Somebody clearly went through a lotta effort to do this, and all Noir can think is why?.

“Hm,” the kid says and Noir bites down a scream at how stupid and unfair this is.

“I’m… Oh shit I don’t know how to explain this in a way that makes sense without getting into real questionable territory if you’re the age you look,” Noir grumbles.

“I’m not,” the kid says and tilts their head looking at his face. Noir makes a questioning grimace and the tone softens. “I take it you haven’t spent a lotta time in the other lands. I’m…” they scratch at their chin, the movement makes the metal nails cast dots of light against the office wall. “About mid 30 in human years. I think.”

It’s Noir’s turn to make a hm sound but he shrugs cause close enough. “Right, so… I’m not anybody’s property, I’m in a relationship with a couple of fey--” Noir can see that raised eyebrow and he scowls. “--Not like that!” he bites off the inevitable question.

“I was not going to suggest anything,” the not-kid says, but Noir is pretty sure he sees a small smile.

“I’d really rather you didn’t think it either,” Noir admits and gestures with a hand. “Had an incident or two cause rumors, but I’m not fucking anybody and especially not for power and glory.”

“Touchy subject,” the young person says and nods solemnly. 

Noir makes an agreeing sound and gets up, rummaging through the battered furniture until he finds one of the stashes of muesli bars Zellus insisted he keep.

They are not, thankfully, homemade. He’s gotten used to the mushroom flavor, but he’s pretty sure subjecting strangers to that might be some sort of war crime.

“Here,” he says and throws it. “I go by Noir by the way,” he adds and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Let’s get inside, then we can figure things out, ok?”

The kid frowns, chewing. Then they bow, head kept low, and Noir manages not to sigh.

[oc-writing-corner]

(This is the ‘prologue’ to a story I need to write for my English class about a character I also needed to make for said class named Aelarias, I will be intermittently posting the chapters here as well as art, please enjoy!)

A letter had arrived that morning. Like others before, it was sealed with that familiar symbol in dark wax that haunted his subconscious. Aelarias recognized it, he knew it well, placing it upon his desk with an unsteady hand. He thanked the messenger at his windowsill with a gentle ruffling of its feathers before sitting down at his desk to eat his breakfast.

It was a fairly simple meal of toast with jam and some herbaceous tea his mother had sent to him. He was still trying to get away from the bland tastes of rations even years after the war had ended. He didn't have a stomach for many of the meats now available to him, fish was suitable, poultry as well, but little else. Hoofed animals tasted far too similar to man…

He shook himself, attempting to rid his brain of the encroaching evocations of trenches and blood that thought dredged up. As he ate his gaze drifted to the letter in a gradual, contemplative fashion. He decided on opening it later as it then flickered to the open window. It was a murky morning, the sort that comes about after a rainstorm, he found himself enjoying it.

The warm scent of petrichor wafting in through his window was always welcome, it reminded him of his mother..

[oc-writing-corner]

So I should probably put the link in for this given it’s been quite a bit since I initially wrote Sepsis. Of course I had to tackle the project again after a period of other, differing brainrots cycling through, but in answer to perhaps why I’ve been so silent as of late:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60119323

Not sure if anyone who was interested in the original version of Sepsis cares to give this enhanced “reboot” a look but feel free.

[oc-writing-corner]

Hi, I have this vauge story idea.

I only have a concept but we are gonna develop it into a plot:

A noble woman is arranged to be married to some man that she does not know for the expansion of her father's estate (I kinda like the idea of basing it in a family estate kind of like in ancient China where a family would live in a like a little gated community) or like forming a trade alliance for magic bean (idk i just wanna emphaise the objectification of woman, like here is 1 woman for 10 maguc beans, good trading with you)

She is not happy about this as she is in love with her personal servant and she goes about concocting increasingly dangerous/kinda funny plots (I'm imaging starting out trying to be as obnoxious as possible so he won't like her to eventually trying to kill him or her father with a really weird magical artifact she found on a solo adventure quest) in order to avoid the marriage . I think it could be told as either a darkish comedy from the perspective of her betrothed or a tragedy in the pov of her or her lover.

(This is all set in like a fantasy version of the 1850s or maybe earlier depending how I feel)

Also I'm 100% sure it will end I'm tragedy and she'll end up marrying him or dying but that's a problem for me later

Anyway, this all stemmed from a drawing I did.

Started with traditional drawing

Then digital

And then I messed around with filters

[oc-writing-corner]

One more name to remember {2} (Battle of the bunnies (tadc x tadc OC))

(A/n: Okay so, in this chapter and the on going chapters they will have E/n in it. E/n means Enemies name just so you know.)

(Trix's P.O.V.)

It's been a week since I got here. I was... getting used to it? I was in my room when suddenly I heard a loud scream. I had to cover my sensitive ears. I lazily got out of bed, straightened my fur a bit and then walked out. I was greeted with loud yelling and a pillow thrown at my face.

???: "WHERE AM I?!?!!?"

Trix: "Okay, Okay, take a chill pill."

???: "DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!!"

sheesh, she is not taking this well.

???: "WHO THE H-[Wacky sound] ARE YOU?!" 

I roll my eyes, and then somebody walks in. Jax: "What the heck? I'm trying to sleep y'know."

???: "I REFUSE TO CAL-"

She looks at Jax.

???: "H-Hi." She says walking to Jax.

Jax: "Whatever, Heyyyyyy~ Trixxxxxxx~" He says pushing the girl to the ground.

Trix: "HEY CAINE!!! SOMEONES HERE!!"

Caine: "Welcome to 'The Amazing Digital Circus!!'  Lets give you a name. Your name can be anything-" Then he starts to talk SUPER fast like the AI he is.

After a couple minutes the new girl got her name it was (E/N), In my opinion it was the worst name ever. And even worse she was like head over heels for Jax! And, No I am not jealous. I'm just tired of Jax barging into my room to hide from (E/N). One morning I heard a knock at my door. I opened it and to my surprise it was..... (E/N)? Ugh what does she want.

(E/N): "Hey Trix can I come in?" She asks kinda polite, but I knew she was up to something.... and it wasn't good.

Trix: "Uh- sure."

(E/N): "Thank you."

After a couple minutes she asked me a...... strange question.

(E/N): "You don't..... like Jax do you?"

I was taken aback by her question.

Trix: "What? No."

(E/N): "huh, I don't believe you." She says crossing her arms.

Trix: "So? you really think I care if you believe me or not?"

She huffs and walks out looking back at me with a warning look.

Pffftttt I'm not scared of her. And ever since that we are enemies.

 Timeskip>>

(No one's P.O.V.)

One week later, they all got along just fine except..... (E/N).

(Trix's P.O.V.)

Ugh, I hate her. She's always by Jax, And if she's always by Jax then Jax is always running into my room to hide! I was lost in thought, Trying Again, to remember my name. when somebody tapped me on the shoulder. I flinch and turn around.

Ragatha: "oh! sorry I didn't mean to scare you!

Trix: "Its fine Ragatha, if anything you helped me."

Ragatha: "helped you with what?"

Trix: "getting lost in my train of thought.... Again.."

Ragatha: "Oh! of course."

Caine: "Line up everybody! we have a new adventure for today!"

A/n: Thanks for reading!

Word count: 493

[oc-writing-corner]

Sunset (High Noon) Vol 2. Issue 51 is up for free!

In which Reeve accompanies Misha (to mixed results) and Grace welcomes some new Saturn agents.

Royal Road   |   AO3   |   Patreon

Sunset taglist. I try to keep it to release updates, long excerpts, and character profiles. Please comment/dm for +/-

@words-after-midnight @chayscribbles @elizaellwrites @theimperiumchronicles @thatndginger 

@clairelsonao3 @writeintrees @scribe-of-stories @stuffaboutwriting @cee-grice 

@ravenkake @covenscribe @void-botanist @worldsfromhoney

@revenantlore @oc-writing-corner @rewritingrosie 

@jacqueswriteblrlibrary @ashirisu @asher-writes 

[oc-writing-corner]

Sent Through the Motions

Chapter 6 of A Four-Dimensional Plot is now live on my website!

Simple, clever. Not good. But if I told Drake that I had a dragon in the house, that was going to cause more problems than solve them. "What if a squirrel gets in through a window?" I asked with as good of a laugh as I could muster. "It would catch that," Stanton said with a grin, "we will want ways for you to cancel the alarm, too, so that we don't send out the cavalry to fend off a loose rabbit." "This could probably have some good applications for pest control," I said, trying to add on to the joke, trying not to think about the 'pest' in my bedroom. "You could say that's how it's already being used," Moira remarked drolly. She paused. "Not saying that Talsic is a pest, but like, if he turned out to be dangerous, et cetera." "Of course," I agreed, rubbing sweaty palms on my jeans.

Check out the full chapter >>here!

This is the newest installment in my serial story, shared via email, about a washed-up agent trying to save a fugitive, a frightened teenager investigating the shape-shifting dragon dealing with his grandma, and a secret research site in the woods.

If that sounds interesting and you want to get the updates when they come out, you can sign up for free here. Alternatively, on Ko-Fi or Patreon, where you can also get exclusive behind-the-scenes art and updates.

[oc-writing-corner]

Disillusioned

Tw: depressive episode, smoking, brief mention of sh/suicide and disordered eating

Jesse lives a life of vile disillusionment. He finds joy in the company of friends or the embrace of his wife. His neck tucked comfortably in hers, getting tickled by the auburn curls. Maybe the sun will hit his face just right and turn his black hair brown and for a split second he can genuinely believe that he has gotten better. He allows himself the fantasy that this rot that runs as deeply through him as his very own blood has somehow seeped out of his pores and was replaced with honest and true happiness. That this chronic curse, as obvious as a scarlet letter upon his forehead, had been lifted by mere time alone. Maybe, for the first time in his life, Jesse could be normal. He could face the day without the incessant ghosts that haunt his soul. Maybe this will last a couple days? A week? A month, if he’s lucky. It’ll feel like ecstasy. He’ll forget how sadness tastes on his tongue as he drinks lemonade and swallows laughter.

But it’s all a lie. Of course it is. Maybe he’s next to Sally and she’s asleep or maybe he’s alone in the gas station. It always seems to be at night, where the world fills the most still. Where he’s the most alone. It’ll be a slow poison over the course of a few hours, killing any smile lines left on his face. The skin on his skull will start to feel heavy — paralysed. The night creeps darker and soon the only thing aiding his sight is the orange creep of the streetlights through the slits between the curtains or the buzzing bulbs that serve as graveyards for unlucky moths.

Regardless of where he is, it’ll always play out the same. Clockwork striking midnight, as it was. The start of a new cycle.

Loneliness is the key. He’ll kiss Sally’s head gently and leave out the back door. He’ll lean against the bins behind the station. The night air is always cold, biting the skin on his face and hands. He rubs his eyes and checks the time, cringing at how bright his phone screen is. It’s too early, even the most eager bird is still nested. Maybe he’ll put on music, something to make him worse. Something from years ago attached to a summer long gone or a night spent begging his father for forgiveness. Something with a memory. Something to get him to feel. Because, god, feeling is so much better than the alternative. The drowning numbness; the suffocating melancholy. His mind as still as the world around him. In moments like this, he would give anything to just feel sad. Sadness was easy, it was fixable. Sadness had a reason and he just needed to trigger it. Then he could cure it.

Nothingness had no cause. It was just that. As it always was and it will be. Nothing. True ambivalence to his own existence. Nothingness led to questions he couldn’t answer. The meaning of it all. Why it happened to him. Will he ever be normal. Jesse didn’t like these questions, they made him nervous. Nervous because even if two moments ago he said that he couldn’t answer them, he could. He could answer each one but he didn’t like the answers. He didn’t like thinking about it.

No. It was much easier to be sad. So he’ll turn on some 2010s album and look up. Try and spot some constellations. The big dipper was pretty common, maybe that one was out? Maybe it’s the same splutter of a dying star him and his friends sat under in a memory burned at the edges where nothing ever happened. God. He was sad then too. But it was different. It was a passionate type of sad he no longer had the energy to feel. Now all he felt was a somber sort of sorrow, like remembering a pet that passed a decade ago. A scar of a sadness long stitched up. Stitched inside of him… fused…

Whatever.

This night needed something else. Something to only make him feel even worse. Nicotine. Sometimes he can talk himself out of it, make up reasons in his head. His kids would smell it. Sally would get upset. Thomas would be disappointed. He didn’t have the money. The reasons never centred around his own health but that was a long-gone lost cause. Sometimes the angel on his shoulder failed and he found himself forking out fifteen to twenty-five pounds just for a disgusting smelling cancer stick and a mere ten minutes of peace. The smoke runs through the ridges of his brain and smothers all emotions. His eyes would flutter as his now pink fingers lifted it to his lips. It did help, but just about as much as slicing up his skin or purging food. It was a quick fix. A brief moment of relief. That was the addiction.

Jesse was addicted to feeling… fine. In moment like this, he would do anything to just feel fine. Because if he was fine, he wouldn’t kill himself and he could still hold his daughter in the morning.

But he’s not going to kill himself, it’s merely a fun thought experiment. There’s no weight to it. He knew that. Life was too complicated to do something so simple now. So on that note, he pushes out his cigarette and goes back inside to his work. Or, if he didn’t smell of smoke, back to bed where he can lay down in the arms of his wife once more. And grant himself the fantasy of never having left.

But his fingers and nose are still pink and his body is still rotten.

[oc-writing-corner]

Hello there!

I'm going to start posting my writing here as a challege to myself to start writing, stop worrying about how bad it is, and to just write because I want to and like it.

Here's what I'm working on:

Currently, I am working on a story with an oc of mine. I have been working on this on and off for about a year now. This is a story about a son coming to terms with who his family really is and that they didn't always have his best interest at heart. It is inspired by my own trauma around my parents and growing up in an abusive household.

Larenz(Or Larz) is the name of this oc and the story focuses on him and the complicated relationship he has with his mom after discovering things that were purposely kept hidden from him throughout the years. Also grappling with magic he doesn't understand, he looks different than his family and they dont have an answer for why he looks the way he does. His animal features are unlike a lot of other people he sees. his tail is strange, his ears look unlike anyone else's that he's seen.

As for the rest? ehhh I don't know how to describe it. Fantasy/magic/breaking the cycle/ect. Everyone in the world are animal people. There is a ruling class of mythical creatures. Unicorn, Phoenix, Dragons, Sea Serpents. I would like to do more with this world too but Larz is just an oc that grew into something more than an oc yknow.

I have no idea what format this will eventually turn into but for now i am just writing/plotting it 😭

[oc-writing-corner]

Thoughts?

Here’s a little sneak peek from a story I’ve been working on. It’s got adventure, survival, and some supernatural stuff brewing in the background 👀 Meet M, Tanner, and a whole lot of trouble.

‘In a world where the truth is buried, survival is the only option.’

M rushes into the old barn where they’d been hiding.

“Quick,” she says quietly, turning to Tanner, who’s just waking up. “They’re coming. We need to go.”

“Ugh, what are you talking about? Leave me alone,” Tanner mumbles, still half-asleep.

“The Officers! They’re here—right around the corner. We need to go now,” they repeat, the urgency sharp in her voice.

Tanner’s eyes snap open. “What? How the heck did they find us?” he says, scrambling to his feet and rushing toward Alex.

“Oh shoot!” he whisper-yells.

“Quiet!” Alex hisses, jabbing an elbow into Tanner’s stomach. “Grab your stuff. We’re out of here.”

“Any signs of those kids?” the captain of the search party asks.

“No, sir. Not yet. Boss said we’d find them around here, so we’re sweeping the area. It won’t be long,” one officer replies.

“About damn time,” the captain mutters. “They can’t keep getting away with this… hurting innocent children like that.”

“Over here!” another officer shouts. “We’ve found something!”

Not sure where it’s going yet, but I’m vibing with it .Would you read a webcomic/manga version of this? Let me know!!

[oc-writing-corner]

INTERIOR: NURSIMO's workshop. NURSIMO is laying face down on a desk.

The door opens and MAKOTO steps in, holding a tray of takeout coffee and a paper bag.

MAKOTO: Hey giiiirl! I brought- holy shit, is everything okay?

NURSIMO flips her a thumbs up, not lifting his head up.

NURSIMO: I'm trying something new.

MAKOTO walks to the desk and sets the tray and paper bag down.

MAKOTO: Uh huh... And what is that?

NURSIMO: Percussion therapy to promote brain cell movage.

MAKOTO: (beat) Is.... is it... working?

NURSIMO: I just used the word "movage". You tell me.

MAKOTO: I didn't want to be rude. I brought coffee.

Read more on Toyhouse.

Read more on AO3.

[oc-writing-corner]

the carrion to her hunter

"What's this?"

Jack traces a finger over the pattern driven into Birdie's skin, his painted nail following the curls and fronds of a plume of ferns over her shoulder.

Birdie is as topless as he is, lying on her front in the garden and enjoying the late summer sunshine as it dapples through the fruit trees that are starting to ripen. They have been married for a week now. This is the first day that they have felt inclined to actually leave the nest they made of Birdie's bedroom��� and by "they," Jack mostly means Birdie. "Domesticated," he called her, and was promptly reminded of exactly what she was; Jack was happy to return the favour later when Birdie was all worn out— a reiteration that he was the carrion to Birdie's hunter.

"A tattoo. Never seen one before?"

The tone in her voice almost tempts him to give her another reiteration. Instead, he stoops to follow the path that his fingers made with his lips, his eyes burning into the side of Birdie's face.

"Never seen this one. New?"

"No. Just never showed you."

"Why?"

Birdie suddenly turns her head all the way around to look him in the eye. Jack blinks. He forgets that she can do that. She stares at him, an air of mystery and intrigue surrounding her. Jack feels his mind wracking through the reasons: a bad memory? a good memory? maybe even a previous lover.

"I forgot."

"You what?"

"Forgot. That's all," Birdie sings, giggling as she turns away again, wiggling triumphantly.

Jack grunts, clacking his beak at her cheek. Birdie trills apologetically. Rolling over to face Jack properly, she reaches out to start preening through his hair, her chest pressing against his. Jack sighs at the warmth. She radiates spring sunshine— smells of it, too.

"Got it when I finished uni, as a celebration. I wanted something simple, but meaningful."

"What's the meaning?"

"I like ferns. I'm serious," she says at Jack's incredulous look.

"You're far too flowery for that."

"Far too flowery. It's come to mean more since. I didn't want to overcomplicate it. A few of my other ones are more poetic."

"Can I see them?"

Birdie closes her eyes. Her skin shudders and something shimmering falls away. A garden is revealed, bit by bit. Flower after flower, plant after plant, all crowding along Birdie's left side. She has gotten good at her glamour. 'More dangerous by the day,' Jack thinks with pride. He thumbs a foxglove on the ribs underneath her breast. Birdie's hands stutter in his hair.

"Tell me," he says, "I want to know all their stories."

With a smile, Birdie lolls onto her back and takes his hand, placing it on top of a blackthorn tree reaching across her stomach with its roots heading down below her skirt's waistband.

"This was after Huddy found me..."

[oc-writing-corner]

A solo Al post! Gonna tell some funfacts about him.

Home Life

He's the middle child! He has and older brother named Ivan, and a younger sister named Jiya

He is biracial, with his dad being from Africa and his mom being from India, because of that he can speak Hindi and a little bit of Jamaican Patois

He considers Jiya to be his favorite sibling and the feeling is mutual between them

He gets picked on by his brother, not really bulling but Ivan can be a jerk at times

His mom works internationally so she isn't home often, and his dad works a taxing job but manages to always make time for him and his siblings

Because of his mom working often whenever he can see her he makes the most of his time with her and she does the same

His mom is a very sweet and caring lady, but she can be sassy and playful as well. Al adores hanging out with her, and helping her cook and craft things when he can

His dad on the other hand is more strict with his parenting and expects the best from his kids, and he rewards them when they do so there aren't to many bad feelings (currently)

[oc-writing-corner]

PART 4!!! I switched my writing app to ellipsus and it does emdashes automatically and you can definitely tell i just discovered dashes.

PREV || NEXT (Not made yet)

Cicada heads upstairs to get his phone. Disco doesn't have to wait long before Cicada returns with it, leaning on the counter and opening up the food delivery app. "What should I order?" Cicada asks, glancing up at Disco. "Um. I don't know, whatever you like." Disco responds with a shrug.

"I don't know what I like, I haven't ordered food in years, man…" Cicada sighs, lowering himself towards the floor, only held up by his arms. "Ah… Um. Just pick the nearest burger place. Everyone likes burgers, right?"

"…Burgers is fine." Cicada nods, tapping on the nearest place. "What do you want?"

"Oh you're getting me some too?" Disco smiles, leaning a bit closer—over the counter—resting his head on his hands. Cicada sighs at the smile, looking away with a huff. "Ugh… Of course I am… It'd be rude not to. I don't want you to use up all my eggs, anyway"

"Aww, how sweet."

"Go to hell." Cicada returns flatly, placing his phone down and standing up, heading towards the stairs. Disco frowns before heading to the couch area that was set up for him. Cicada lets out a sigh of relief as Disco finally leaves him alone, now he can get back to painting. Though… he didn't particularly want to paint. He runs a hand over his face, then through his hair. He opens the door to his art room, looking at the painting once before shutting the door and turning to the room across the hall—his bedroom.

Cicada flops onto his bed, burying his face in a pillow and wrapping his arms around it.He was tempted to just fall asleep, but he had to wait until food was here. About half an hour later the doorbell rings. Cicada gets up, tossing his legs over the side of the bed and standing up. Darkness creeps into his vision as he stands, starting from the corners. Fucking hell, not again… Cicada clenches his fists, reluctantly sitting down—stumbling a little as he backs up to his bed.

At least I didn't pass out, I guess. Cicada thinks with a sigh, standing up again and leaving the room. No vision issues this time. When he gets downstairs the food is already inside, carried in by Disco. Disco smiles, setting the food on the counter. "Hi, Cicada!"

"…Hi." Cicada murmurs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he steps forward. He opens the bag, taking a peek inside. "What did you get me?" Disco asks, leaning over the bag. Cicada pulls out the two boxes, setting them to the side. The smell made Cicada's mouth water, he hadn't had real food in at least a month. He opens one of the boxes, looking inside at what was on the burger before passing it to Disco. It was the first burger he saw on the menu—with the default cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and pickles—since Cicada didn't know what Disco would want.

Cicada takes his box and leaves the kitchen, going back up the stairs. Disco follows him, "You eat in your room?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"What if you spill something?"

Cicada shrugs, "I don't want to sit there and just… eat. I like to do stuff while I eat."

"But I'm here now! You could talk to me." Disco purrs, sitting down next to him as Cicada sits on the bed. Cicada pauses before sighing, "Yeah, I guess I could." He murmurs, taking a bite out of his burger. Disco picks the tomatoes off his burger, placing it in the corner of the box before taking a bite out of his. Cicada looks over, "You don't like tomatoes?"

Disco nods, chewing before talking. "Not a huge fan."

"Me neither. I hate 'em."

"I mean, I can tolerate them. They're just… icky."

"Very icky."

[oc-writing-corner]

The Day that Changed Everything

A scene from the birdverse, partially inspired by the song Hold Them Down from Epic the Musical. I like to joke that Kor suffered more than Jesus but this scene kind of confirms that.

CW: mentions of/implied rape, gore, violence, suicidal thoughts

"What are we going to do, Captain? With that boy the Avians are decimating our troops. How long can we keep sending them to the slaughter?"

Agualias ran an armored hand over the coral table, smooth after many years of touch. His fingers glided over the land masses carved into the coral, bumps meant to resemble hills and divet where lakes should be. He was aware that he held the attention of the room as he took his time, meandering through each curve and carved line. They were nervous.

Finally, he snapped out of it. "Ignore the Bringer of Death." He swept away some centuries old dust. "He's just a tool, controlled by the Nest. We don't go for him— yet," He slowly began to move his fingers again, down an estuary carved into the rock, letting the sensation beneath his fingertips help toss his thoughts around.

An idea struck.

"The younger Prince.." he mumbled.

"What?"

Agualias felt a smile crack his face, slow, predatory, as he talked. "He's a liability. Trained with a bow, maybe, but that means he's only a ranged fighter. If we corner him, he'll be.. helpless."

He could feel as his idea sunk into the room. People began to mutter.

"The younger Prince?"

"The dainty one. With pearly hair."

"The sick one?"

"Hardly so, he took out Nephmet's eye last campaign!"

Agualias raised a hand and the room fell silent. "I hear your concerns, we can't underestimate him— that's a fact. But.. since the Nest's been keeping him so close means he is valuable. I've.. even heard rumor he may be another Child."

"Two? In the Nest?" choked out his second in command.

"Yes, it's not ideal but.. I don't even think the Prince is aware of it himself. If his powers haven't awakened yet.. then now is the time to strike."

"But how? He's always guarded or at the Nest."

Agualias tapped his temple. "Haven't you noticed who's missing? The Scouts just informed us that the Falcon's been gone for days, and the Prince is nowhere to be found. If they're both not at the Nest, then they can't be guarded. And.. I've heard word from the Sprites that the Prince was spotted.. in the Forest."

Excited chatter broke out again. This is what Agualias fed on, the suspense, the build up, the anticipation of a plan, a plan so daring none of his other siblings could come up with it.

He dropped a heavily armored finger on a certain spot on the map. "He's here," he said, "The Bottomless Abyss."

The warriors around him leaned in to see, elbowing each other to get a better view. Agualias continued.

"This will be where we corner him. The rivers feed into a spring close by," he gestured around so they could see. "There, we call in that favor from the Sprites and make the rest of the trek on our terrain. I'll lead the charge. In the meantime," he pointed elsewhere, "we gather some of our forced on the beaches, make his caretaker distracted, then my unit will close in."

His voice was rising over the room like the tide, receding before a big swell. "He won't see it coming, helpless as he is, and easy to overpower. We grab him. Hold him down. Then take our revenge." He cackled, "Imagine— just imagine how that mighty King would react if we send him his brother all ruined and broken. Would he cry comrades? Feel shame? Hah!"

He could see their grinning faces all around him, eyes glazed over by the sweet promise of revenge, of easy revenge. They hung onto his every word as he continued, growing darker and darker as deep water.

"We'll test out if he really is a Child— see if he's afraid of death, and if not, we'll give him another reason to cry. You will hold him down and I will break his bones! Every finger that dared to draw a bow to harm us. I'll take his eye! One for Nephmet's. We'll break his pride, then taint his honor. And! And! We'll cut off his wings."

The room broke like a crashing wave, shouts from every direction.

"Break every one of his bones, Captain!"

"Or better, slit his throat!"

One smacked his lips, "I heard his skin is so fresh it'll leave bruises with just a breath."

"I heard he's as beautiful as the Peacekeeper."

"I'd like to make that pretty little mouth scream."

"No way, I want him first!"

Agualias chuckled. "Don't worry friends," he spread his arms wide, "I'll make sure everyone has a turn."

vvv

Nereus cornered him in the hallway after the meeting. His hair floated around him in an agitated manner, almost like tentacles worried you're getting too close. "Are you sure we should do this?"

Agualias raised a brow. "When did you start doubting me, brother?"

Milky eyes regarded him. "You know I can't see the Currents surrounding the Prince. Is this wise? What if it's a trap."

He ignored him. "All the better to strike! If the Nest is going to such lengths to keep the Prince away from us, then he must be special. I'd like to see so for myself."

Nereus shot him a look. "Don't let your own motives get in the way, brother. The Prince is not his brother, old rivalries will not be won by substituting one for the other. And for all we know, the King could care less about his bastard brother and is just using him as bait."

Agualias shot back at him, age-old anger filtering in, "Don't you think I know that?" He took a breath. "I don't need to see his High and Mighty Majesty. Just imagining his reaction will be enough." A sinister smile broke his lips. "But if only I could see his face when they find the Prince afterwards..."

Nereus sighed. "Be careful, Captain. I'll pray for your success."

Agualias clasped his arm. "Wonderful, Great Sea-er. We'll visit the Temple of Depths before our departure."

He watched his sibling walk away, waited until he was out of earshot, then snapped around with a sharp twist.

"Come out, you [damned] Mimic!" He beat the wall with an enraged fist until his fingers grasped around a camouflaged throat. He squeezed.

"Agualias!" gasped the boy whose throat he held. Agualias let him go once the boy's face turned purple, wiping his hand on his clothes and watching the boy sink to the ground gasping for breath.

"Nobody likes an eavesdropper, boy!" He spat. "How much did you overhear?"

The boy straightened. "Take me with you, please!"

"Like [hell] I will. Now get lost. Some of us have real things to do." He started to walk away, satisfied.

"But- brother-"

Now h turned, livid, "Don't. Call me that." He strode back over to the boy, until he was hovering over him, like the wave, like the storm, like the monster about to snap. He prodded a finger into his chest. "You are a nobody. You don't deserve to have the privilege of calling me kin. Remember that, you hear? A nobody."

Face as white as sea foam, the boy ran away.

vvv

As promised by the Sprites, the forest ground was flooded, marshy under their feet, which allowed them to trek without damage.

"This way," commanded Agualias in no more than a whisper. They couldn't afford to make any sounds that would alert the Falcon before she was sufficiently distracted.

As they neared the deep pool, the air got noticeably cooler, almost too cold for his warm blood. Here, the Abyss's presence was felt even above ground. Even so, his skin prickled in anticipation more than chill.

The Forest was silent all around them. Every creature was either long gone or turning their gaze away. The Rocks didn't even make a sound, not even a rumble in warning. The Earth had long since decided to stay neutral in this war, even if it made them complacent in acts like this.

Agualias and his troop waited for a signal from the Sprites that the Falcon was subdued. Quietly, a lot of waiting.

Then, there is was. A whirlpool at their feet— the time was finally upon them!

Warriors burst from the brush like a flash flood. They ran until they found the Prince by the edge of the pool, caught off guard. He didn't even have time to reach for his weapon before they grabbed him. Later, only later, would Agualias even register that he didn't even have a weapon.

Like a king, Agualias emerged from the shadows. "Hold him down," he commanded, watching the Prince struggle against the numerous hands that held him back. He smiled when he made eye contact with the boy. Reddish eyes of a sickly hue, but with dazzling white hair and wings to match. He was as stunning as the stories claimed. Something flared in Agualias's gut.

Agualias took his time meandering over, drinking in the sight of the boy on his knees, held to the ground by the gaping maw of the Abyss like a sacrifice. He finally lowered himself to meet his gaze.

"Hello Princling." He smiled, all teeth— the Prince cringed away from his salty breath— and ran a finger down his smooth face. "Where's your little nanny~?"

The Prince was out of breath from struggling, yet he still managed to spit out, "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing," he paused, "we don't need her."

Agualias reached for the blade offered by his second in command. It was shiny and thin and sharp. Specially forged— the only way to hurt Children of Death. His smile widened as he watched the Prince's eyes go wide, recognizing its caliber. He tried squirming a way but Agaulias grabbed a fistful of his hair. He put the cold blade on the Prince's pale, unblemished neck. It was so sharp it instantly drew a line of vivid red.

"We're only here for you, little Prince."

The Prince huffed out a laugh, speaking carefully around the knife. "You're running a losing game, then. I know nothing of Their plans or strategies. The King could care less if I was captured."

Agualias huffed. "We knew you'd say that— Hold his legs—" he leaned in close to the Avian's long ears, reveled in the way his breath made the boy shiver. "That's why we'll give you back, of course," he slid the blade teasingly across his throat, "..not without some.. reparations"

"No!" The boy choked out, fighting to get free again. His struggle only intensified the stream of blood from his cuts, pooling onto the rock beneath him.

"Hold his wrists too." Agualias suddenly stabbed the blade down into the ground next to the Prince's face, feeling giddy when the Prince flinched and screamed from a blow that never came. The knife sliced clean through rock, instead, up to the hilt. Agualias smiled.

The others took that as a sign to close in.

"His eye first!"

"No, let me at his sweet little neck, before that!"

"Hey, grab his wings— aren't they soft?"

Agualias didn't care how his warriors handled the Prince, where they grabbed him or how hard. He egged it on after seeing the way the Prince flinched away from their touch as if it stung. Every cry when his wings were grabbed or his hair was pulled made him feel funny inside, like he'd finally won. He wanted to gloat, but he knew if he turned around the one he wanted to see wouldn't be there. Nereus was right, but that fact didn't make him feel any less giddy, only angry.

"Little Prince." He tapped the boy's temple with his knife to get his attention. "Look at me— there, now listen and remember this." He leaned in close so his lips hovered just above the boy's ears, smiled when him shivered again, then continued.

"First, the eye." He gestured with his knife lazily, not caring if it nicked skin. "For my sister." Then he trailed up to where the boy's wrists were being held down. "Then the fingers. I'll break every. Single. One." A flash of horror appeared on the Prince's face. "No more shooting for you." Then he moved to his back, put the knife against one of the appendages that he knew was sensitive. He cut, deep. "Then, the wings."

"No!" The boy flailed out, a renowned burst of strength.

"Hold him down!" Agualias loosened a punch aimed at the boy's jaw. The sickening crunch of bone got everyone's attention. It sounded like a luxury, the snap of an enemy's neck, the pop of a sea fruit in one's mouth, the moan of a lover during her first time. Agualias's pupils widened in ecstasy.

"Want to try screaming again? I'd love to hear it." He liked the way the boy shuddered when his breath passed anywhere near his ears.

"What was that? You're going to be quiet now, huh? Fine."

Another punch. A rib cracked. The Prince cried out, blood coughing up from his mouth. Agualias waited a second. He didn't die, yet. It was a good sign.

Once confirmed they could be as brutal as they wanted, the warriors around him laughed. One pinched his exposed skin just to see the red mark left behind. Another sunk his teeth greedily into the boy's neck. Agualias spread the boy's legs apart and sat with one knee between his thighs. He brought out the knife with a sickening flash and feigned going for the boy's eye, laughing as he screamed before the knife went wide and grazed his cheek instead. He was going to drag this out for a while.

The boy seemed to realize this as well.

"Please," he begged, his voice broken. "Please."

Agualias only laughed harder. He pulled the boy's head up closer by his hair.

"Try begging louder," he murmured, "Maybe they'll even hear you at the Nest!'

vvv

A bloodied, broken body shivered, on the cold stone. Agualias wiped his hands, satisfied. The Prince was barely recognizable, now, pale skin bare and covered in blood or bruises or open wounds he hoped would scar. Blood gurgled in his mouth in intervals, but his stubborn chest continued to rise and fall with shaky breaths. His once beautiful face was now marred by the gaping whole in his head where his eye had been. Agualias would cherish the way he screamed when he'd carved it out of his head for the rest of his life.

Fit to go for a second round, Agualias neared the boy, before a messenger came rushing in.

"Captain! They're losing hold on the Falcon! It won't be long before she escapes."

"Fuck." Agualias cursed. He regarded the broken boy. "Let's speed this up, yeah?"

His warriors held the boy down, again. They bared his wings to his knife as if they were on the executioner's block. The boy whimpered, his voice long gone. He had no energy left to struggle, but even a sick animal would attack when cornered. He gathered his broken little body and lunged for the knife before Agualias could grab it, but it slipped through the grip of his broken little fingers. Either way, he hadn't received any combat training to know how to use the knife if he'd succeeded.

Agualias squashed his already broken hands under his heel. "Down, boy." He smiled. "You know we love it when you protest."

There was no time to make this painful. His heart began to beat as he imagined that wraith finding them. He was not scared, though, obviously, just.. worried, for his men, not himself.

"Fuck this, fuck everything!" He roared. Of course she had to escape and ruin his plan. He raised his arms over his head and swung down viciously at the thick bone between the boy's back and wings. It didn't go in cleanly. Enraged, Agualias swung again. He hacked at the boy's back, before giving up. It seems something had finally pitied the boy.

He wouldn't let this go, though. "If I can't finish this, then at least I can make sure you never fly again!"

He stabbed his knife through the Prince's wings, and it cut through like silk. Pure white feathers fell to the ground, now splattered with red. The boy screamed and screamed with each slash, a guttural, primal screech that rattled the very ground.

Agualias only saw red and loved it.

"Captain! I think I hear something, quickly!"

That spurred him from his rage. He stood up and looked down at the bloody mess he had created. The boy wasn't protesting anymore.

"Let's get out of here," he said darkly.

"What do we do with the Prince?"

Agualias turned around, "Throw him into the Abyss."

"No!" The boy screamed, somehow finding his voice after all of this.

Agualias cackled. "Remember this, Princling. You are nobody anymore."

v

v

v

Cold.

Dark.

No thoughts, only sensations.

Cold, the worst one.

His head throbbed.

Slowly consciousness flowed back to him, only to be washed away as abruptly as it came.

There was nothing around him but the cold.

He knew there were sensations once, pain, both in his heart and his body, but they were now replaced by a sort of weightlessness as his lungs filled with water. Memories flashed through his mind only to flow out like water through a sieve.

Kor knew he couldn't die. He would never drown. He would just sink like this forever, in the Bottomless Abyss. He didn't even know how to swim.

vvv

There were voices calling for him, but they seemed so far away. He was so, so cold.

Mama, where are you? He thought. Or at least he tried to, but his thoughts were so scattered.

The pounding in his head had stopped. He felt a strangeness, the wrongness of his body trying to put itself back together, but lacking the air to do so. It felt like forcing a plant to grow in the dark.

He wondered if this pit truly did go all the way to the Abyss.

If he couldn't die, then at least the Nothing could tear his body apart so he could finally rest.

Kor realized he didn't want to go back up.

It hurt up there.

But it was warm up there, and it was so, so cold down here.

Eventually, though, he would stop feeling the cold.

v

v

v

[Okay some other stuff happens, that I don't feel like writing right now. Falcon flew back to the Nest to tell them about Kor's disappearance, very very distraught for losing him. Everyone's busy trying to find him while also not starting panic. They find a wooden practice sword by the beach, similar to the one Aquilian had used to best Agualias in a show of strength when they were kids. Thus, Aquila suspects Agualias has captured Kor.]

"Your Majesty." A messenger approached with a quick bow, breathless.

"What news?" Aquilian asked, trying to not sound eager.

"None about your brother, my liege, but— the Forest has sent scouts. They are saying something approaches."

"What?"

"A thing appears to be making it's way to the Nest. The Scouts tell us it has carved a path in the Earth, right from the Well of the Abyss. They say-" the messenger gulped, "they say it's a creature of shadows and darkness, that destroys everything in it's path, decaying life matter and-"

"Enough." Aquilian silenced the messenger before they could get too worked up. "I've heard enough."

"Your Majesty, what if it intends to harm the Nest?"

Aquilia looked at his General, Hawk, and shared a silent consensus.

"We will not interfere, for now." He climbed off his throne, gesturing for his closest advisors to follow him away. "If it indeed is a creature from the Abyss, then we do not have the power to stop it. Call for the Little Witch, I will need her assistance."

"Yessir."

"It's Him isn't it?" Hawk asked as soon as they left the room.

Aquila could not answer without the tears spilling from his eyes, so he instead nodded profusely.

"He's Awakened," said Falcon, with abject horror in her voice. Her face was too pale, as if she were going to throw up. They all remembered the day Ravyn first developed his powers. It only worked out for them because his emotions had been projected onto the other side. Now, though, it seemed the target was on themselves.

Falcon blurted out, "Let's disband the festivities tonight. Remain on guard and ready for a confrontation."

"No." Aquila stopped and turned to face them, surprising his commanders in more ways then one. "We continue on as normal. Don't let anyone find out. And make sure Ravyn is far away tonight. Tell the Little Witch to do whatever she can, he must not see Him."

v

v

v

A ballroom filled with nobles, warriors, and courtiers made for the most efficient of distractions. The celebration of the full moon was in full swing, despite the growing danger. What was once a breathtaking sight, moonlight flooding into the room from wide windows carved into the very trunk of the Tree, reflecting off crystals and sparkling on guests' shimmery dresses, now seemed tainted with the bitter taste of betrayal. Their joyous mood was wrong, out of place, out of touch to what was happenign all around.

Even on the lower branches people were celebrating. Fires littered the ground and lanterns floated through the leaves like stars. People danced and cheered, unaware of what lurked below, coming closer and closer.

It could feel their merriment; the quick flow of their blood in their veins, the furious beating of their hearts in line with the drums, the plump flowers slowly withering away in their decorative garlands and vases, the hum of magic, ancient and feral within these very roots.

It was running, it was flying, it was moving faster than light. It was craving something: destruction.

Kor could feel again. Rage that tasted like bile in his gut. He didn't even know who he was angry at, all these people for celebrating while he suffered, or his brother for sitting on his little throne oh so comfortably. Too comfortably.

There was laughter in the ballroom, music— until the room went dark, a shadow passing through the window. Then there was suddenly silence. Too much of it.

The shadow dragged its broken body on the ground on legs that could barely support itself. Kor approached his brother's throne, broken, beaten, and bloody, but alive. The shadows around him did not fully dissapitate, as if offering support for this broken body, but he made his prescene known. Not what he was but who he was.

"I'm home!" He spat blood onto the ground. There were gasps all across the room as people took in his broken body. His wings bent at the wrong angles, ribboned and shredded and plucked. His hands that hung limp at his sides, fingers twisted and useless. The new and old blood covering his pale hair and pale skin and pale feathers, a stark contrast against the moonlit white. And his face. The shadows clung to his face the most, as if covering the gory sight. Where his left eye should have been was a black, bloody hole. Kor smiled, showing sharp teeth.

"I'm home!" He said again, turning to the rest of the court. He watched them recoil in disgust and fear. You made me like this.

"Corvus." Aquilian called to him from to throne. It was too quiet to hear by anybody but them. Kor ignored him.

"Aren't you happy? I clawed myself back up here— why are you backing away? Am I not beautiful enough for you anymore?" He spat more blood on the floor then wiped his mouth. "Why aren't you celebrating?" The last one came out as a shout.

"That's enough Corvus." Aquilian's voice boomed from his throne. Kor turned and blinked at him, as if just remembering he was here.

He smiled. "Dear brother! Won't you welcome me in your arms? Lick my wounds clean? Where's my mother to take care of me?"

"Corvus." Aquilian's voice was dark, "That's enough. Come with us, stop making a scene."

"A scene? Like the one you didn't throw when you learned what their Captain did to me? Why should I stay quiet, brother?" He turned to the audience, "Aren't I your Prince? Aren't I worthy of your love, too?" His voice broke on the last phrase, still healing from the screaming.

He would continue but he suddenly felt the prescense of something too hot at his side. "Ahh!" He shied away from it as if it burned. Why! Why was he feeling again?

Aquilian got up from his throne. "Friends, an Abyssal Apparation has taken control of the Prince! His journey to the Well of Abyss proved too dangerous— this is the consequence of seeking magic not allocated for us! From now on, all travel to Abyssal locations is forbidden. We must prevent something like this happening to one of us!"

Whispers spread throughout the room like dry leaves caught in a strong gale.

"Is that really the Prince?"

"Did the Abyss.. do.. that?"

"Didn't he mention the Sea Folk?"

"Well obviously the Abyss is corrupting his mind!"

"We must not mess with knowledge like that."

"Wha-what?" Kor could feel the room stirring around him— against him. Those eyes that had racked him in fear now cast their judgement upon his bloodied, naked form. His head was swimming. His side burned.

He turned so his eye could see. It was his brother's General, holding his mighty Lance, alight with flame. No— not flame, light. It hurt. He just wanted things to stop hurting.

"Don't worry friends! We will subdue him with haste. We cannot let this blight stop our worship, the festival must continue!"

Hands grabbed him, he struck out— not again, no please!— but their grip held. He couldn't see, his vision was blinded by light—

"Calm, Prince." A familiar voice, one that once told him to wait patiently as she sorted out a disturbance. It felt so long ago.

"No!" Kor screamed. He couldn't let them do this again, he could feel phantom touches crawling on his body, he could feel the sting of a knife cutting into his flesh—

"Hold him down," the King's voice commanded. Kor wailed, vision blurred with tears that spilled from his eye and traveled down his face, becoming stained with red.

Please, he begged, before his consciousness released him.

[oc-writing-corner]

Half-Drunk Words

" I want to love you like an equal, "

If you hadn't looked at me with such painful adoration in your eyes, young master, I would've laughed at your words,

Written it off as a joke, even.

Pardon my insensitivity, as you have many times before this, but you know better than I that we can never be

I am simply a man, some might say a pathetic man; someone less than worthy of looking you in the eye

Much less hold your hand and call you mine. But day and night, I wish I could put into words how much I did love you.

" This pitiful servant of yours is willing to lay down his life to make sure you are happy. So I love you, young master, "

More than anything else in this world.

. . . But really, did this love of mine ever amount to anything if it wasn't enough to save you from yourself?

I wake in the night and reach for your side of the bed only to find you not there

I spend my time drinking until the world is lit up with your colors, all the shades of silver and green

I miss stopping you from doing the same thing and putting you to bed, your eyes hazy and your cheeks flushed. It hurt, but in that moment you were more beautiful than anything else I've seen.

Please have some pity for me and come back. Fill the side of your bed again, drink yourself stupid, I don't care

Look at me with those eyes again, please.

Even if I'm less than worthy of your love.

Life is not worth living without you by my side.

[oc-writing-corner]

oh my god more ocs !! And I wrote something !!! AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!

@buggz-owlz youuu. seemed interested in this :3

tw: ritual sacrifice mention, suicide mention, slight repetition (a main character has a tendency to repeat words and phrases), implied mind influence

A sacrifice. That is all I am meant to be.

Ever generation, ten children are selected and raised to be a sacrifice to The Abyss. Of course, we don’t worship The Abyss. The sacrifice is to keep it at bay. Only one of ten children is sent to the temple.

I am that child.

My name is Olli, and I am 15 years old.

—

“You will not return from this journey.” Is all they said to me. No reassurance, no comfort, just the cold truth. I knew that, of course, but the realization hadn’t set in until now.

As they placed a charmed necklace around my neck, I felt the weight of my situation crash down on me. I was holding back tears.

“This charm ensures your death will strengthen the chains that hold The Abyss. Do not remove it at any time, or your death will serve to strengthen its powers.”

—

The grass is soft beneath my feet. I haven’t yet entered shadowy territory, so it is still lush and green- but I already feel the darkness weighing down on me.

I breathe in the fresh air for the first time in years, trying to relax myself. I have no reason to relax, of course- I’m going into this completely alone, and I’m expected to take my own life in the heart of the temple to contain a force of destruction unlike any other. But that was all I had been raised to do. It was my destiny.

As I continued walking, the grass and trees turned from green, to grey, to a dull, dark purple.

“Sol protect me…” I muttered under my breath, as I notice the temple in the distance.

—

As I entered the temple, I immediately felt as though I was being watched. Inspecting the architecture as I walked was the only way to distract myself from the feeling.

The dark, ashen pillars were covered in shadowy vines, the walls painted with carvings, paintings, and murals of a mortal perception of The Abyss.

What a terrible creature it seemed to be, with most depictions being covered in bright purple eyes.

There seemed to be holes in some sections the walls as well- but they looked intentional. Purposeful. All that was on the other side was pitch black nothingness. Just looking at the darkness made me feel sick.

Once I was too far info the temple to turn back, I heard it. A voice.

“Ohohohooooo, what this, now? A guest, a visitor, after all these hundreds of thousands of years! It’s been so, so long all on my lonesome, nobody to converse with… too long.”

Its voice sounded- no, felt- like it was burrowing into my skull and under my skin, and I felt myself getting colder. Its tone was playful and exited, yet horribly menacing. It was coming from every direction at once. I felt pain in my hands from clenching my fists. I found it in myself to speak;

“I am not your guest, nor am I the first human to come here in the past hundred years.”

“Ooohhh, a brave one as well! How rare…

Ah, and that’s where you’re wrong, more than wrong, aaaallll wrong!!

You’re different than the others, little mouse. Something, something in you is different, so different, something of interest to me, hm?”

The holes in the walls were suddenly filled with eyes. Bright, purple, staring eyes, all focused on me. I couldn’t keep up a brave facade anymore, and stared loosing my breath. It cackled at my sudden fear.

“Ohhhohohooo, not so brave as I thought, not so brave, not brave at all. Little mouse, what is it that draws you here I wonder, I wonder…”

“I… I am here to… for…”

I stuttered. I still couldn’t quite cope with my situation.

“Oh, you poor thing, poor little thing. Your suicide is someone else’s mission, not yours, no, no, no, no! But I… I could give you something different, hm?”

Its tone dropped at the end, cold and dark and slithering, then it was silent. It felt like every move I made was being watched and monitored. The silence was much worse than listening to its voice, but I didn’t dare speak.

The farther I walked, the more I started to feel the effects of being in the presence of The Abyss- it was harder to breathe, and my mind felt… different. I couldn’t think straight, no matter what I thought of, that… thing… wormed its way into my thoughts. I felt cold and weak, and drawn to the darkness. I tried my best to ignore it and carry on.

And I think the worst part of it all was that it wasn’t a bad feeling.