[Infernal Prisoner] Fools Despise Wisdom and Instruction

[Santaru Rin]

The Woods and the Goddess - Deadly Premonition OST

"And the lord Raiden was cast out of his house and he wept; for he knew that the gates of paradise were now forever closed to him, that he should never return to the halls of the once righteous.
"And lo he walked into the wilderness alone, for none would follow where he walked; not even the plants of the earth would fill his footsteps, and they remained black, and until the end of the earth they remain black.
"The lord Raiden walked forth alone into the wilderness; without companions he walked and without helpmeet nor comfort; and he knew this journey for his last journey, as all men walk alone to death."​

The black pines stood like ten thousand lances pinned into the flesh of some great, white demon. Here in the ancient forest, the memory of the land was closer to the surface and raw with indignation. Axes were turned aside by iron bark; roots made to break the ankles of the unwary; loose stones promised falls to slow, obscure death by starvation in hidden ravines. The roads were dissolving away in the intervening years--this near-trackless expanse was the last untamed land in the village's legal territory, and the most vicious plot in the entire han. Over the years even the few and desperate lawless within Kumogakure had given up on using the forest as a hideout. The bitter earth hungered for blood, virtuous and immoral alike.

The forest had always been wild, but before the invasion, it had never been so hateful. It was only in the long years after such rich quantities of demonic gore had been left to rot on this ground that the spirit had grown twisted. Portions of the village had been abandoned to the place, only fueling that rage. Priests did not venture here. The eccentrics who struck out into the forest were rarely ever seen again--though a few hardy souls seemed to scrape out a living at its margins. But the shinobi, driven always by the need to prove themselves ever worthier, spent much time in the great forest... And sometimes even they did not return.

Thus Tagiushi's orders to seek out a secret here were perhaps appropriate, if by appropriate one assumed his superiors wished to see the last of him. Another might take the assignment as a statement of immense faith. Telling the difference was often difficult. The Santaru scion, poisoned by otherworldly taint, with immortal blood contaminating his lineage, would be among the few who could possibly feel at home in the ancient forest. Taking that feeling at face value would be unwise. Once upon a time, his initiator in the mysteries of the ANBU had lived here, lured him out here, and scarred him in the name of Raiden and the corps. Grown stranger with age, she had sent him back here alone, already maimed, to meet an unknown fate.

The mark pulsed, an uneasy, feverish sensation always a split second before his heartbeat. It was an off-putting syncopation. The sun was already setting and he had areas he had to scout in order to hedge his bets.

Santaru Rin provided Moro with a map of the forest. The specified zone was outlined in red ink, and the underlying circles used to triangulate were in light graphite. There are three sites not corresponding to the triangles' points. These points are marked in black ink. Though not specified on Moro's documentation, two are likely ruined settlements, and one is a graveyard.

Basic navigation of the forest is, as long as the sun is up, a simple matter of paying attention to that celestial body's position relative to one's own. Once the sun is completely set, the story changes. Compasses are unreliable in the village and the forest due to high concentrations of ferrous materials. Given the prevailing weather patterns, a clear night for astronavigation is unlikely, and it's improbable that Moro would be carrying a sextant around in any case...

 

[Tagiushi Moro]

The forest, for Moro, was for the most part, a place of surprisingly fond memories. So long ago, in what seemed now almost like a previous life, he and Gin had spend entire afternoons here, talking, roughhousing, doing what normal children do. Even following Rin out to her cabin here, asking her to take him into the corps, where she in turn had marked him with a lighting-coated blade, held a nostalgic quality for the mempo. It was these areas of the woods that he traversed that had actually risen his spirits. As he progressed deeper into the forest, into territory unknown even for someone who had spent his student and genin days exploring on a near daily basis, the sounds of wildlife softened and faded, the decayed mulch blanketing his steps even though he wore heavy military boots.

The trees here were beyond ancient, the snarled, twisting branches entwining and almost completely covering the sparsely cloud-dotted skies. Leaves of the canopy were so dark green that they appeared almost black in the muted sunlight. The mark was with him, every step of the way, in confidence he called it his 'demonic node'. Faint, but constant beat proceeding his heart's P wave. He crossed the edge of the marked territory and proceeded onward with a deep breath and a sigh. While the sun was up, sensing his heading was a fairly simple matter, but even while watching his feet, Moro nearly stumbled more than a few times, crisscrossing roots clipping the toes of his boots concealed by the detritus of the forest floor.

The sun had dipped noticeably even as Moro stepped into a small clearing, a structure emerging suddenly from between the trees, the closest of his marked objectives.

 

[Santaru Rin]

The old house loomed large. Its wrought iron fence had been overtaken by scrub growth and vines; saplings had even torn it clear of the earth in some places. Despite that, the place had a strange sort of charm. It was clear that someone lived here and was, despite the terribly overgrown state of the fence, caring for the grounds. The even paving stones which formed the path in were mostly clear but for a light smattering of snow which must have fallen after someone had swept. The gate was half-open in invitation.

A simple, natural garden showed some resident's loving touch--artfully pruned trees, displaying the best nature had to offer, lifted their interwoven branches to the sky. Pale buds had just begun to form. The moss between the stones, the placement of boulders, even a small, frozen pond fed by a softly gurgling spring all spoke of occupation and interest.

There was even a second gate, built of bamboo, between the wrought iron fence and the house proper. A small shack with a bench provided a place to rest. Beside it was a basin set in the ground, full of no doubt frigid water and a simple ladle.

The house itself, a single-level affair, was dilapidated but probably livable. Part of the roof had been clumsily patched, while one wing appeared to have caved in. The wooden walls had been insulated with a layer of clay at the chinks. Dried herbs, roots, and other things hung from the eaves of the wrap-around porch. The place might have once been a clan's home.

 

[Tagiushi Moro]

The fence screamed in protest as Moro pushed it the rest of the way aside, brushing the rust off his fingers by rubbing them together. The signs of care were obvious, however he could sense no immediate presence. "Shitsurei shimasu..." he called in a low quaver, the pungent, spicy aroma of drying herbs coaxing him further into the yard.

The traditional garden was positively enchanting, he would have admired it regardless, but here, in such stark contrast to the muted pallid earth tones of his last several hours of walking, it caused his breath to quicken and a half-smile to begrudgingly, unconsciously spread, parting his cracked, chapped lips like rice paper.

He briefly knelt by the pond, languishing in the serenity, even shutting his eyes briefly against all of his training and judgement. Something about this place, or someone, was dulling his senses, making him complacent, but without immediate alarm, the thought never wormed its way into the part of his brain that could care.

He hopped the low bamboo fence like a gazelle, wanting nothing more than to rip off his steel-toed clompers and wiggle his tootsies in the soft, inviting looking moss. Collapsing on the bench with an enormous sigh, one hand went to his laces, the other reaching down to the serendipitous ladle.

In the basin he saw his reflection.

There he saw the freshly scabbed-over Mark.

He shot to his feet, scuttling to the nearest patch of shade-the arching shadow of the dilapidated roof. I was a second away from drinking that water. I was taking off my gear without a care! He slowed his breathing, pulled the stopper of his canteen with his teeth and drenched his hair, rubbing his cheeks and slapping them softly. Awareness now sharpening his thoughts, he crept towards the entrance of the house, inspecting the dried herbs. He located some Ibuki Mugwort, and tentatively reached out a hand, thinking a brief bout of moxibustion might ensure his wits, but thought better, and continued inside, this time excusing himself silently.

 

[Santaru Rin]

Someone lived here. Outside of the door, he smelled burning charcoal, earthy grain, and charring meat. Beneath that, the smell of woman was on the air, floral and very faintly briny. Whomever it was favored plum; only fitting, given the cold season. The plum blossom was beloved by Kaminarijin because of its hardiness and how it defiantly blossomed in the ice of stillborn new years. The wooden floor creaked underfoot; an answering creak came from Moro's left. He froze and checked his ten.

"Douzo ohairi kudasai," a breathy voice sang from his right. "Please tell me I shouldn't light a signal flare for help, friend. I just put on supper and I'm waiting for some star viewing--if we share our dinner with you, will you kindly leave us in peace after?" She was young, perhaps younger than Moro, with lovely barley-gold hair to the waist and light blue eyes. One white-knuckled hand gripped a crude cudgel in case, of course, Moro was anything but peaceful; the other hand trembled nervously at the sash tying her winter robe closed, as though uncertain of what to do.

Another woman, younger and darker of hair, approached from the right, lingering in a doorway a few meters away from Moro. She watched them both uncertainly.

"Mei-chan," said the former, "Please make a place for our guest... He won't be here long, but we should be polite."

 

[Tagiushi Moro]

As soon as he crossed the threshold, waves of heat and the mnemonic smell of animal proteins being denatured, blanketing the faint waft of perfume, confirmed that not only was the house recently attended, but that there was someone there now. He took only a single step into the traditional depressed entryway, hand resting on the pommel his dagger, head crooked around a corner to peer down the hall when an ethereal wisp of a greeting sounded behind him.

"Please tell me I shouldn't light a signal flare for help, friend. I just put on supper and I'm waiting for some star viewing--if we share our dinner with you, will you kindly leave us in peace after?"

He spun but did not draw, taking only the flickered image of the girl's hands, one holding a crude blackjack, the other veritably shaking-before displaying his palms, and dropping his hands to his sides in the universal gesture of peace. His face lit up with top-teir charming sleaze and a wide, wolfish grin, "That actually...sounds fantastic." A calculated awkward chuckle escaping him. "I've actually been hiking all day and I have to admit I'm beyond famished. Rather embarrassing that you would catch me intruding like some sort of Sunajin barbarian. I must have misplaced my manners in my haste for comfort. I'm Tagiushi Moro." Only true sociopaths could keep track of an entire web of lies, if he wanted to keep his head above water over an entire dinner, half-truths would have to do.

He bowed deeply with his introduction, almost immediately sitting to unlace his boots after the returned greeting. Keeping the older girl in his peripherals, giving the dark haired one a smile and wave before she disappeared behind a paper door. I don't like this, but I don't see an alternative. I'll play the fool for now and learn what I can. The mention of stargazing in particular had piqued his interest, and it was going to be a long night if he couldn't figure out why some kimono-wearing hussy had been able to sneak up on him. Ideally he would get into the odd pair's good graces over dinner, and join them for 'stargazing', getting some clue to the fountain's whereabouts in the process.

His search in the library, in terms of astronomy, had turned up literally nothing. He knew it had been a last resort of sorts; but beyond disappointing, the information had been conspicuously absent. It had seemed the key to finding the answers he needed in other areas, he had often and repeatedly come up against brick walls that could only be solved by knowledge of the celestial that simply wasn't there. Not discounting the matter of his present circumstances. Things here certainly didn't add up. This area of the forest was strictly off limits since the demon wars, and almost impossible to find in the first place. To find two young girls living in unparalleled comfort here of all places was inexplicable, combined with his experience in the courtyard. His nerves were grated to the point where acting his part would almost certainly be a rigorous challenge. At least for the interim, the Mark was forgotten.

His wits spun as he attempted to iterate dinner conversation, who else would be at dinner? Judging by their attire and mannerisms, it was likely they weren't the only ones here. Trailing behind the bishoujo beauty, against his every will she set his heart racing. Those eyes, that dress, her scent...

This was going to be difficult in more ways than one.

 

[Santaru Rin]

The one named Mei gave Moro a wall-eyed look and nearly fluttered away. The first woman smoothed her robe and discreetly disposed of the cudgel. She led Moro into the next room, a large, multi-purpose affair separated from the rest of the home by worn and somewhat water-stained paper screens.

The dinner proceeded quietly, with an air of general anxiety. A third sister showed up after Moro was seated at the low table by the charcoal brazier. She was little more than a teenager, and spoke not at all. She served the three adults timidly, and was so nervous around the ANBU that she nearly sloshed rice porridge on him. The rice porridge was accompanied by skewered, grilled rabbit and pickled stonecrops; a humble meal by village standards, but filling. It was served with kukicha, "The better to stay awake for stargazing," the next eldest said. Whenever she started to address Moro, the eldest gave her a quenching look.

 

[Tagiushi Moro]

The four of them were seated traditionally around a low table, legs folded underneath them, a modest yet generously portioned three course meal laid out on the table. The rabbit in particular was noteworthy, grease running down the sides of his mouth with each piece ripped directly from the skewer with his teeth. Moro examined the third, mute member of the household quizzically, she would jump at even the smallest motions Moro made, rice porridge careening precariously around the confines of its serving bowl. The majority of his attention had fallen on Mei, and he had even looked with a perched eyebrow when the dark haired girl seemed to attempt to catch his attention, her mouth an "O" of promise, she would flick her gaze to the eldest before slumping back down, defeated.

"This rabbit is amazing, I couldn't catch anything on my way through here, are you the hunter of the house?" He smiled disarmingly, while eluding to the fact that she had caught him by surprise when he had intruded upon their abode. "I can't remember ever having pickled cucumber so sweet. The rice vinegar is excellent." More flies with honey.

The middle child finally let something escape, "The better to stay awake for stargazing," referring to the odd, sweet smelling tea that was served. Moro's eyes narrowed and he wrapped a hand around the cup, letting the heat of the liquid seep into his palm, but did not drink. "I consider myself sort of a budding enthusiast of astronomy, even how the sky-scape changes from day to day, season to season, fills me with a sense of unparalleled wonder. It is something that never truly gets old, wouldn't you agree?" He motioned to the dark haired girl, she was going to be his in to get the rest of them talking. The eldest was going to be harder to disarm than she had first appeared.

"I didn't catch your names by the way. After our rather awkward meeting, it would be much more cheerful to dine as unlikely acquaintances than as strangers, no?" He left the question hanging in the open air

 

[Santaru Rin]

"I am Izanko. She is Mei. My youngest sister, Arakane, cannot speak. Please take no insult, she wouldn't harm a fly," the eldest said at last. "Thank you for your kind words..."

Arakane refreshed their tea, starting with Moro and then Izanko, and ending with herself. Izanko had not touched her drink, nor had Mei, but each cradled the warm cups as the night's chill seized the air. The warmth of the brazier did little to fill the rest of the room, though Mei arranged more charcoal on it twice.

"We have... Plum wine, I think," Izanko said at last. "If you would like."

 

[Tagiushi Moro]

"Well, such charming names for such charming young ladies. Lovely to meet you all three of you." He smiled at the youngest before reintroducing himself, she pointedly looked elsewhere.

Moro's gaze snapped attentively to Mei, who had been on the verge of offering him something useful before censoring herself. It's starting to look like I'm going to need to get that one alone to get any information. There is no way that Little Miss Mom over here is gonna Mei out of her sight though. If they didn't get the meat themselves, then where did it come from? The tea itself was too suspicious, considering the others had hardly sipped theirs, but Izanko soon offered a promising alternative.

"That would be lovely, but only if you'll have some as well. I can't have you opening such a nice bottle purely for my sake. I might walk into people's homes uninvited but I'm not as backwards as to take advantage." He chucklegrunted, before shivering unconsciously. It was kind of chilly for a room with a blazing fire, and it felt as if it was getting even colder.

It was a shot in the dark, but maybe alcohol was just the social lubricant needed to get Izanko comfortable with the idea of he tagging along with them on their outing. His insinuation before was glazed over, Moro knew he was going to have to eventually ask them directly.

 

[Santaru Rin]

"Mei," Izanko said lightly, with a cheer that had not previously brightened her tone. The young woman stood stiffly and bowed towards Izanko and Moro and left. Izanko sipped her tea, now lukewarm.

Something suddenly struck Moro about her face. Like the fact that she had an additional pair of eyes, spaced somewhat down and to the left of where her eyes were supposed to be, and that she had an extra mouth and nose as well, all layered oddly. "Shinobi-san, are you alright?" she asked, looming diagonally over him and multiplying as though she'd mastered kage no bunshin. Her voice swirled around him in silver and shadow. "A shame..."

Her flesh dwindled, those lovely lips and cheeks withering and sinking and dissolving away, along with her eyes, until it was a death's mask looking down on Moro. The stink of corruption filled his nose and mouth. Her body rippled and a multitude of limbs too awful to contemplate tore holes in her robe.

Behind him came the rapid sound of clicking. Arakane's slim face now sported a pair of pedipalps which would put a Fire Country tarantula to shame, and she walked on three spidery limbs, with two greater pair prepared to spear through Moro's body.

 

[Tagiushi Moro]

The eldest seemed suddenly cheery at the prospect of wine, and Moro smirked inwardly. This wasn't going to be so bad after all. They would knock a few back, blather about nature and the stars...by the time that he was done softening her up she would be begging him to come along. If anyone in this Raiden-forsaken forest knew where the fountain would be, it was these girls. A pang hit his lower stomach, the light in the room refracted several times over, double and triple vision assailed his senses as the room spun. Izanko calmly stepped to him and inquired to his condition, the sound distorted as if underwater, before her flesh decayed before his very eyes, patchworked limbs of all shapes and sizes erupted from her robe and the sickly sweet stench of decay filled the small dining area.

"Fuck you, demon" He spat, drawing his dagger and swiping it wildly back and forth, shredding remaining strips of fabric and necrotic flesh alike, but the creature didn't even flinch. It laughed, a cruel and tinnitus sound without humor. Moro backed into a corner, holding the dagger out between him and the demon, but even that swam and wobbled side to side in his vision. An odd clacking approached and Moro gaped in horror, quickly flipping the dagger and gripping the blade between two fingers, chucking it at Arakane's now compound eyes, the throw going harmlessly wide.

Arakane parried the blade midair anyway, and it sank into the threadbare wall, she then clicked across the age-stained pine floorboards and reared, coiling to strike with her forelimbs. A scorpion tail ripped through the paper door to the dining room once, twice, thrice, seeking Moro blindly, and now it was his turn to laugh, a low, desperate chuckle. "I would have loved to stay for drinks and everything, but you girls are starting to get a bit clingy..." His irides flashing platinum, lighting crackling and dancing between his fingertips.

Arakane lunged silently, Mei ripped the inconvenient paper door from its frame and stepped into the room, her lobster-clawed tentacles mashing together hungrily once she located Moro. Izanko spilled the brazier in her haste to attack, raking sizzling coals everywhere, several limbs grabbing for his throat and extremities, no doubt seeking to hold him in place while her sisters ripped him to pieces. He gave them a toothy grin as they closed in, clapping his palms together as a thunderous wave of sound and electricity radiated out from him, a Santaru technique known simply as 'EMP'. It threw all three creatures backwards, Mei flying through the hall and out into the night, the other two crashing through the thin walls, Izanko screaming in pain and rage, an otherworldly banshee shriek. The table, its beautiful china plates shattering and sterling silverware scattered, crashed into the wall and various decorative ornaments, candelabra, sculptures, small paintings, flew wildly about the room, a few poking holes in another paper door like a gatling bolter.

Moro needed to Call the Storm, and he needed to prevent being surrounded and mobbed, dashing outside after Mei, who was isolated, making her an ideal target. Muffled howls pierced the twilight as the other two scrambled to locate him, assuming he was still inside. Mei was climbing to her feet and dropped her mandible open wide to call out their position upon seeing the ANBU, before Moro landed a steel toed boot against the underside of her jaw, silencing her. Free of momentary distractions, he concentrated, his blood boiling with electrical chakra, his flesh merely a conduit for Raiden's holy wrath. The already opaque skies darkened, the clouds roiling and tumbling over one another in their haste to heed Moro's beckoning. Lightning flashed out, along with thick, knife-like shards of hail, pummeling the already strained roofing of the house, punching holes, thunder drowning out demonic screams. The barrage of ice and spark intensified, nearing its peak, the house groaning in protest under the relentless assault. Moro was mere moments away from closing the act and trapping the two demons inside in the rubble, when Mei tackled him from behind, sinking her venomous fangs into the tissue surrounding his spine, they both fell, lightning and hail now falling all around them erratically as the Santaru mempo lost control of his storm.

 

[Santaru Rin]

Moro's knees buckled under Mei, but even sickened with poison, he made goon on his training. No enemy would pin him. He twisted Mei beneath him as his senses greyed out to static and then blackness. The last thing he heard was the crunch of her skull on stone, muffled by the sound of falling water and thunder; the last thing he saw was a cascade of silver light.

Buzzing awoke him. Something was tickling his face. When he cracked open his swollen eyes, he found that flies were dancing on blood and vomit. His skull echoed with all of the fury of Raiden's thunder. The corpse of a young woman--Mei, now nothing but a girl with a shattered skull and broken jaw--was beneath him. The sky was a uniform chalk white and the winds were still for once. He had been tenderized by hail and had a very human bite on his neck, but was otherwise unwounded. Where he rose was a fountain spilling over with sweet water, clear and cold and naturally effervescent.

The house was half caved in upon itself. A whispering suspicion told him that if he investigated, the corpses he found would be unremarkable human women, their bodies torn and lacerated from a one-sided battle. The stillness in the air was almost palpably accusatory.

 

[Tagiushi Moro]

His head pounded in time with the Mark, the venomous hangover much worse than any alcohol induced one he had ever experienced. He rolled off Mei, whose torn dress and silky ebony hair almost made it seem as if she were the victim in this scenario. Still supine, Moro tilted his head up to glance behind him at the now partially caved roof. From what he could gather, the two had not escaped the wreckage, his combat knife was simply not worth retrieving.

Slowly regaining his feet, Moro moved to the fountain, which he could have sworn was not present before, but he couldn't be altogether sure, his recollection of everything before dinner felt distant and foreign.

 

[Santaru Rin]

A cold hand clutched his ankle. "You... Murderer," Mei's corpse whispered. Her other hand grabbed behind the opposite knee. Her grip lacked the supernatural power Moro remembered. From the door of the shattered house came Izanko and Arakane, the younger supporting her sister, whose pale and expose flesh showed inexpert and painful stitching of gashed and torn tissue.

"Mei-chan, you are so dramatic," Izanko sighed. "We're dead. What are you going to do, swat at him until he dies of pity?" Arakane regarded Moro mutely, baleful, clouded eyes wide and fixed.

"What a terrible dinner guest. We were going to dump you like a sleeping drunk at the edge of the village, and you murder us instead! As expected from a Kumo man. This demands a fair exchange--"

Mei interrupted, "Perhaps you shouldn't use tea with strange mushrooms in it then, sister!"

"Oh do shut up! Save your breath, you'll need it when you're buried," Izanko snapped. "Besides, you put them in his porridge, and they are supposed to go into the tea. As I was saying! A fair exchange. You killed us, but we cannot kill you. Instead, I will tell you how you will die." Her rictus grin spread. The words she spoke next evoked an ever louder buzzing, and as if in answer, the flies in the dead forest, the wasps, the hornets, the spiders, all which crawled and bit and stung swarmed the ground and air around them.

It suffices that what she told him remain unsaid, as only in the closing chapter of the ANBU's life would a reader know his fate. The voice which spoke the death curse of Izanami was the descendant of the voice of one who rules over flies and locusts. Few truths are more terrible for any man to hear. When the swarm dispersed, the three corpses lay as though with strings cut, not a word left among them to spare.

 

[Tagiushi Moro]

"You... Murderer,"

Moro hissed and jumped like a wet cat as both hands weakly grasped him, he kicked them away in disgust. The other two sisters emerged from their ruined hovel-turned-tomb, and began for lack of a better term, bickering.

"You lured me into your...creeperpad, poisoned me, and then attacked me! I'm a murderer? Pot meet kettle! I can only imagine how many helpless travelers you've danced this charade with. 'Dumped me at the edge of the village' my hairy, stretchmark-pocked ass! I'm guessing all those extra arms just suddenly appeared one day from wishful thinking, huh? You should be thanking me for putting a stop to your insanity! What kind of villain doesn't-at bare minimum-have the decency to at least be apologetic in death? Dead or alive you three are narcissistic fucks! Especially you!"

He jabbed an accusatory finger at Arakane, before assuming his best falsetto and holding both scarred hands underneath his chin, his face, in a poof of smoke, henge'd into a parody of Arakane's with exaggerated features, makeup, and eyelashes, ringed with flopping, over-sized flower petals.

"Oh look at me, I'm the innocent one, 'speak no evil' they say! 'Serve the food' they say! 'STAB THE VISITOR WITH YOUR MANDIBLES' THEY SAY! Well fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck you! Fuck all of you! Teabag me with Raiden's hairy sack, I would have the luck to kill someone and then be forced to listen to them nag me afterwards. Story of my fuckin' life, thank Raiden for snapshot jutsu, they would have involuntarily committed me to the Takao Institute if they had to read this report..."

He trailed off as the buzzing of a thousand-thousand locusts vibrated his eardrums, blood and lightning flashed in-front of his eyes in black and red. The specter of his death crooked its finger and he followed, one foot in front of the other, unable to resist, they entered a pitch black void in reality. Shrouded in utter blackness, a spotlight flicked on, and side by side the two of them watched Moro die, as if in the V.I.P. box of some overly dramatic play. As his last breath rattled out from between his teeth, a mob of skeletons in three-piece suits, top hats and monocles, as well as ones clothed in sequined, carpeted dresses, shoulders clad with exotic furs of creatures unbeknownst to Moro and opera goggles, erupted into roaring, thunderous applause.

Osseous fingers dug into Moro's shoulder and he turned, "Excellent, ol' chap. Simply riveting. This was the best one I've seen in, oh, what would you say Matilda, the last 10 minutes at least?"

"Well, frankly, if we're being honest, I would put it slightly below average."

"Come now dear, if the actor is going to make it here himself ahead of time, you could at least show him some courtesy..."

He blinked, and was back at the foot of the fountain, the corpses of the three girls lay still. Collapsing, Moro hid his face in his hands and wept.

Only Raiden knows how much time had passed, maybe hours, perhaps minutes, eventually Moro dragged himself to the fountain, peering at his red-eyed countenance, before plunging his head beneath the waters and screaming noiselessly.

 

[Santaru Rin]

A hand reached up through the bottomless artesian fountain and pulled Moro's head further. His neck burned as though submersed in acid. A distorted voice muttered urgently in his ear. "Their forefathers ... immortal, yet the prog... thinned. Among them ...ber dead, dying, dement... yet are still powerful. What the living fear is cold... The ice wh... undid an AGE.... dead are haunted by memory.... Their undoing regret-"

Something greater still grasped this speaker from the black and tore it away, leaving Moro to rip himself clear, coughing and choking, of the fountain. A trickle of black ooze leaked from the mark. It still burned, yet the hateful fire of it which had fed on his vitality was now nothing. The clouds churned themselves into the ember-tinted coal which presaged dawn. The fountain rumbled, collapsed, and with a great cough was gone in a breath, leaving nothing but untroubled earth. The wind whistled through the pines, who had seen it all, and who did not care, and who would still be watching long after Moro died.

Only the broken house and the corpses in the garden remained.

Return to the briefing topic in the Sileo for your debriefing and I will post for reward.

 

[Tagiushi Moro]

Between the bubbles flying out of his gullet, a tenebrous hand flashed in front on his vision, before Moro could react it grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him deeper, his feet leaving the ground. Now completely submerged, the messenger from the depths, the speaker frantically whispered directly into his consciousness, Truths tickling his ear regardless of the lack of sound. Moro was imparted ideas, not words, as parts of the verbal components of what the speaker was saying were lost in the surf. As he was ripped away, so too was the speaker.

The primal need for oxygen suddenly slammed him with its massive weight, Moro kicked to the surface and grabbed the edge of the fountain to pull himself out, but the stone underneath his fingers crumbled away, and he slid back underneath, a sickening rumbling vibrated his chest even muffled by the aqueous barrier surrounding him. Extending both hands this time, scrabbling for purchase, they found it, and for the first time since his childhood he used his muscles without the assistance of chakra to pull himself out of the endless waters. Flopping out of the fountain, behind him it crumbled to dust. Having completed his mission, even if at the sake of his sanity, he took only a few minutes to wring out his gear before starting the long, treacherous hike home, the only thing keeping him moving was the thought of his own bed at the end of the road.

[topic left]

[twc: 3384]