#arc one | and the boat reeks of ghosts

[chainrattle]

. monster seven verse

during the events of secrets of the maw, seven never manages to escape the depths. when confronting the granny, she manages to win ; yanking the poor boy into the water to drown. however he doesn't die. even as his lungs fill with murky waters and his skin bloats, he doesn't die. instead, he changes

blacking out, seven can't recall how long it's been, or what happened. death takes him for a moment, nicking him of memories during his transformation. but when he does awake, it's like being reborn. his eyes ( now inky pools ) blink open in the darkest parts of the depths. fingers like claws and his mouth permanently a sharp frown— a nome hat shaped from his own spine. the ankle chain is now connected to the water, limiting him from getting far on the surface of the boat. not to mention his long hair is worse than before, shaggier and practically a mullet in the back.

with the granny no where to be found, and little memories of before, he has taken her place

. a lonely boy, now larger than life itself, trapped in the maw during this loop

[chainrattle]

| @exterreria starter.

" h-hey— I'm back! "

he only calls out a greeting when he's certain only his companion is around, carefully examining the room he left her in. she hid herself well ; not a sign of her lingers in the open where any human eye could spot her. meaning that the boy could only hope she was not only still here, but that she would reveal herself to him. especially since he wasn't in an energetic mood to play any childish games with her.

there's an obvious swelling in his left eye, black edged around his lids and puffing the skin there to a point that he's forced to squint. the white of his eye tinted pink. during his supply run ( that he insisted on doing alone ) he made a miscalculation, sending him into a mess of injuries. a swollen eye, a couple of bruises along his rib area, and his knees skinned raw from being dragged. this is why he took so long to work his way back to his survival partner. the runaway looked half dead on his feet, coughing as he limped around the room.

yet he was successful in what he wanted to achieve. cradled in his arms was chunks of bread and small carrot pieces ; items he got his hands on with the help of his nomes. they would eat well today, and that was enough comfort to ignore how weak he felt from the journey. once he reaches the middle of the room, he glances at the cloth placed down from hours earlier and lets the food fall on to it. arms heavy without the added weight.

thankfully, his journey didn't require him to get soaked this time. any wetness to the clothes were from his sweat, which he viewed as a major accomplishment. with each passing day, the runaway saw less and less of the depths. such a fate he owed mostly to the girl ( null, wasn't it? his head was too dizzy to confirm that fact again ).

standing strains him too much, so he lets himself sit down in front of the arrangement of food he brought. legs pressing into his chest while he reaches out for a crumb of bread. there wasn't any water to drink, but they could journey after and find plenty of it— unless his body made it impossible for him to do so. his knees sting something fierce, blisters and scrapes burning with any movement, which makes him sit still. stuffing bread in his mouth ( the dough sticking like cotton to his dry tongue ) with sluggish movements to prevent unnecessary moves.

looking around and still not seeing null, he's quick to swallow the bread and call out again, " you can come out... " encouragement slips past his lips easier than air.

was she mad at him? surely not. when he asked her to stay, it had been out of care. she had pulled more weight than he during these times and he wanted to pay her back for it. letting her relax in a room while he proved himself with gathering food. risking his life for the extra bits was foolish ( clearly, considering how much he ached ) but he did it!

no matter how she felt, the boy was longing for her to come out and enjoy what he brought them. honestly, he was starting to worry she assumed him dead and left due to how long he took— though he knows that was simply his fear talking, and tries to write off that idea the best he can.

nonetheless, despite his efforts, the worry frets in the pits of his chest. something that will only be soothed when he spots familiar yellow and bandaged eyes.

[chainrattle]

| @bellhung starter.

this is the furthest he's ever made it in the maw, kicking his feet against pavement and metal to scramble further and further to the top. it feels as though he's failed a thousand times, always sinking deeper to the bottom with each slip up. so close, so close— a motto he's more than intimate with. for once, he would love to say he made it, no more close calls or anything of the sort. and maybe, just perhaps, that ending was finally in sight for the runaway. the mere thought of feeling the sun on his pale skin makes him excited ; his movements becoming quick and sloppy as he scurries along. tiny hand trailing along the walls of the beast.

it's a strange sensation to be above, being free of soak puddles and leakage that forced the boy to swim. by now his clothes are almost completely dry ( a true gem during all this hard work ) and he feels his confidence only growing. escape was in his determined sights. chasing the concept like a rat to cheese.

all his euphoria plummets when he wiggles through a hole in the walls, almost falling straight down. luckily, he grabs at a chunk of metal and catches himself— but when he glances below his sinking chest, it soon becomes hard to breath at the sight. oh no, no, no, no, no, no! frustration slithers into his fear, straining his limbs as he childishly thinks ( akin to a child having a tantrum ) that this isn't fair, it can't fair, why couldn't anything in his meek childhood come fairly?

said sight that was causing the boy in blue such distress was a cluttered desk right below him ; all sorts of assortments sat on the surface that he couldn't make out from where he dangled. landing on it would be painful, his skin bruising upon impact for sure— but he wouldn't die. so that wasn't the issue, what was the issue was the creature at said desk. a terrifying monster that the runaway has never seen a glimpse of before. definitely new to him, but probably not new to the maw.

if that thing caught him, it was over. he would surely be taken down below once again, which was not an option. failing one more time, after hours put into this escape, would utterly ruin the boy. there would be little hope left in him and his limbs would be sluggish with his disappointment ; ensuring that he would eventually give up to the many horrors on this boat.

simply, he couldn't get caught. while different looking than most, there were always weaknesses in every monster in the maw. all he had to do was sniff them out or leave before he was forced to learn. his palms were hardened from his climbing, covered in grooves from the metal, and he tries to keep a steady hold as he glances around. was there any way to continue his adventure near the roof of this room? coming up empty, the runaway kid puffs out his cheeks in irritation. looks like he would be climbing down then, using the indents in the metal to do so. a death wish for sure, but it was his only option.

slowly as to avoid making noise ( maybe the monster was blind like the janitor? ) the boy starts climbing down the wall. hoping with everything in him that he wouldn't be spotted by the creature.

[chainrattle]

so terrifying to be here all on your own , surrounded by horrors that want to capture you. but in all this nightmare, null found someone just like her. or so she thought at least. a small hand is reaching towards the other kid , a sign that she means no harm , but is willing to help instead.

a boy, all frail bones and thick skin, curled up protectively under a table ; back snug against the wall behind him. there's a hat clutched tightly in his thin fingers, knuckles strained white from the force of his grip around it. in the dark covering, shielded by the item he's crawled under— it's hard to see the black eyes peering at the hand, squinting when he catches the sleeve. bright yellow, a vibrant splash of color in this murky hunk of metal. this isn't the first time he's seen it.

seeing a child wasn't unusual here, since the boat was filled with them. wiggling, brave kids forced to explore the depths, darkening eyes searching for the dreamed exit. when he had taken a sharp turn, ducking into another room ( the wet slaps of his bare feet against the floor echoing ) he hadn't expected to find someone else. and when he had, he expected the child in the raincoat to scatter off like the rest of them. ; leading to him hopelessly chasing said child to see why they picked the direction they did. what happened, however, wasn't what had happened to the runaway kid all the times before.

the child in the yellow raincoat ( were all the kids in yellow so brave? ) did not run from him. they approached him. the change of the dance hit him with fear, and like a coward — like a kid, he turned and ran.

if they wanted to hurt him, their hand wouldn't be here, now, as an offering. despite knowing this, the boy in blue eyes the small hand oddly. wrinkling up his dainty nose as he observes behind his nest that he has the nerve to call his hair. a part of him wants to remain here and see what the raincoat child does, if she ( they look like a girl in the face, and he loves assuming ) becomes violent at his rejection. but there's the possibility she takes his fear humbly and goes about her merry way, something that's more scary than violence for him.

being alone hasn't been working recently, the boy reasons with himself. it's not like this would be a permanent situation for them either, seeing as they would probably be separated eventually. in his time within the boat, he has yet to see a pair of children anywhere within it. so taking a chance with the other child wouldn't lock him in, just advance him further— when he makes up his mind, he doesn't allow himself to dwell on the fact a partner could slow him down as well. he promises himself he won't let that happen. together they'll make advancements, or he'll leave her.

when he comes to trust her, the boy doesn't take the offered hand. crawling out from his hiding spot, on his aching palms and ruined knees, while glancing up at her. she looks silly now, with her hand out like that after he refused it. pushing himself up on his own ; the boy takes a calm, small step back from her, nervous of the proximity. the nome hat is pressed against his small chest, tiny hands ( as big as hers ) fiddling with it to ground himself and feel the emotions that the nomes always brought him.

tilting his head, the boy tries to peer at her face from underneath the hood. ( were those bandages? where did she find those? ) but ultimately, he can't pick up much.

they couldn't stay here forever— if they were to work together, they had to stay close and be quick. dragging feet would get them snatched up, or eaten, or worse. the runaway kid looks around the area, upset at how clueless he is on where to go next. this place was nowhere near the bottom, which was his area of expertise after being down there for most of his days. maybe she had a better idea? turning his chin back to her direction, he gestures around the room and forces garbled words through his tight throat. it's been a while since he's spoken, though he knows the english language as intimately as the chain around his ankle.

" .... where? "

born without a name himself, it's lost on the runaway that perhaps he should of asked the girl for hers before jumping into the deep end of things.

[chainrattle]

tag dump . . .