fujimaru | Palace Game 6/3

All right. Avenger. I'm going to bring her back, without dying in the process.

[There's a faint glow to his yellow eyes in the dimness, and a warmth about it all despite their determination.]

But I could use your help.

"You will need it, if you mean to survive. Do you think I was exaggerating, when I called this hell before? Hardly! If anything, I was being generously kind! These are the depths that true Hell could only dream of! The Devil would weep at the sort of things that the human mind may conjure for itself--never mind the demonic beasts that have met their end at her hand! You have done well, to ally yourself with me."

He's walking as he talks, at least, the confident stride of a man who knows his way very well. In the hazy glow that surrounds him, it's obvious that the blood is shying away from him, as if it fears his presence. It leaves a slightly clearer path in his wake to follow.

[Saturn follows, keeping close, and Crobat follows slightly behind him, completely silent. She's echolocating in the dark, keeping her defenses up just in case.]

I see. But you . . . these things don't touch you in the same way. Only because you're a Servant? Or something more than that? Because you're Avenger?

Crobat can tell there are things out in the darkness--huge things, looming and unpleasant, moving inaudibly among the dark waves. The smaller ones are about human-sized; the largest one is impossibly huge, a colossal horned and winged creature that has her head turned in the direction of their little party, watching but not (yet?) moving.

Avenger, though, only snorts. "Any Servant could wade into these waters and come through alive, if not entirely intact. But to leave these things be would only allow them to gather their strength and to grow. A curse is hardly a dead thing. It lives, it breathes, it consumes, it grows. And what, then, if it is allowed to do so unchecked?"

[Oh no a Dragon type. She stays very close and vigilant, keeping a constant sound map of everything surrounding them and whether it moves.]

Then you're preventing that. Keeping them in check. Your presence here beats them back, in some special sense.

"A special sense? Hahahahahaha! It is hardly that!"

Without looking at Saturn, without breaking his stride, he makes a sharp slicing motion with one hand. It sends a bright bolt of energy out to the side, and something that was under the blood, hidden from detection, lets out a squeal of pain. The stench is strong enough to bleed through, just for a second.

"But if it is a battle they wish for, a battle they may have."

[Guh. He shuts off his breathing until that passes, and then begins again when he needs to speak; Crobat hisses at the sudden attack, though more just out of annoyance that she wasn't the one to protect Saturn herself.]

Ah—brute force, then? But you said a Servant wouldn't come through entirely intact. And yet this place draws back from you, and you . . . well. I won't presume how intact you are or aren't.

He snorts, not slowing his pace; if anything, he's moving faster now. "We are of similar stuff, these things and myself. The existence of an Avenger is based in how we are named! A man who finds savlation and lives out his days in peace has no need for vengeance; he may let himself be buried in lambswool and be swaddled from the ferocity of the world. But I! I, Avenger! I am well-versed in the fury of hatred, the desire for revenge! And so I name myself kin to these creatures, who tread upon the same paths of Hell as I once have, and will do again!"

[This fucking dude. Saturn is smiling about this tirade in the dark. Ah, nostalgia.]

I see how it is. But your loyalty to your fellow sinner is stronger than your kinship with them.

He's silent for a moment as he walks, then tips his head slightly back, looking towards the emptiness above.

"Is it loyalty, when you are cut from the same sort of cloth? Once upon a time, there was a man who only thought to live happily with a woman that he loved, in the service of his king and country. Once upon a time, there was a girl who only thought to live her own normal life, untouched by greatness--the good or the terrible. I would not call it loyalty, no."

Love?

[Casually. Conversationally. These are normal things to talk about while you trudge through a sea of putrid blood, surrounded by shadows in the dark.]

"What does an Avenger know of love?" It sounds like a genuine question, somehow. "I am what I am, and I cannot be anything else. My existence is based in my hatred. What room is there for love in the very fabric of my being?"

I don't know about that. You might think love and hate are opposite things, but truly they aren't. They weave together quite nicely into one fabric. A man who wanted only to live with the woman he loved . . . yes. That isn't so very different.

"That man is long dead." His voice is still calm, close to dismissive. "There is nothing left that is the same between the two of us."

At this point, there is a definite upward slant to their path, getting steadily steeper. Somehow, the blood sloshing at their ankles does not subside.

Perhaps not.

[Lightly, and watching him.]

What can I do to help?

"In this place? You cannot." There is something almost like pity in Avenger's voice. "You cannot simply reach in and pull this rot out. The roots go deep, and so long as she continues on her path, there will be no end to the supply."

He finally comes to a stop. There is no light ahead, but he points.

"So if you wish to be of any help at all, keep going. Until the end of the line, and beyond that! Keep moving, no matter if your skin splits, your bones crumble, your body fades to dust! Continue on beyond even that!"

Then this is as far as you go? All right. I'll accept that . . . I'll continue on. Thank you, Avenger.

[He turns to him, offering his hand.]

He does not take the hand, a seething and faintly glowing figure in the red-tinged darkness, his eyes glowing. With each passing second, he fades more and more from sight.

"Continue on, then, and see where the path leads you. With luck, it will be what you wish for."

[Thanks for LEAVING ME HANGING, BRO. Saturn shrugs.]

With luck . . . yes.

[He turns in the direction indicated and shuts his breathing off to avoid any recurrence of the smell choking him, and reaches up with one hand to take hold of Crobat's tiny foot and follow her into the dark in that direction.]

UNFORTUNTELY... 2edgy5eva.

Honestly, in spite of what he was told, the remaining walk seems to take an inordinate amount of time. The air is still cleaner than it was, but there are the sounds of voices again--louder now, more openly hostile. He can make out words now, in the mess:

"--no! Stop! No, no, no, no, no... I haven't even accomplished anything yet--!"

"--I can't stand it. I spent every one of those thousand and one nights wishing for nothing more than to not die. Every fiber of my being is terrified of death!"

"This... This can't be how I die! I was... I was going to destroy...this entire world...!!!"

They're getting louder. There are so many of them.

[The curses . . . he doesn't stop for any of them, or call out to answer them. He maybe twitches here and there. But he walks. He just walks, looking straight ahead of him, holding onto Crobat, trusting in her to alert him if anything out there in the dark actually does make a move. Walk forward . . . just keep going.]

They get louder, and louder, and louder--

And then they stop.

Palace Game 6/3

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