Gentle hands ran along impassive stone, the wall seeming to melt coldly under his touch until his fingers slipped and he was left grasping for that solid feedback again. He always found it again, but was left perplexed by how it seemed to leave and still be in the same place at the same time. “Hello?”, came his voice, wavering between confusion, sleeplessness and wonder. He wasn’t yet panicked - his view hazy and shifting in long, overlong seconds - as long as he could keep following the wall’s path. He didn’t know much about mazes or the monsters that lurked within, but he did know you’d always find your way out if you just followed the –
Where did the wall go?
“Hello?,” came a more urgent tone, uneven breaths with uneven steps. He scrabbled at the space where the wall was before, whipping around, inky darkness full of crystal lights offering him the same rock feeling despite its lack of shape. Did this count? Was there any protocol for finding himself in this situation? Where was he, anyway? A lurch as the world seemed to spin, rocking bare heels into grass-littered stone. It was a little uncomfortable. His feet were cold. It was really, really cold here, and without the ‘illusion’ of a wall to steady him - and only the ‘illusion’ itself remaining - he could no longer pretend like there was protection from the elements.
He didn’t have his scarf. Ahh. And after all the trouble he went through to get that back home … he pulled at his shirt as if he could stretch it over more of him, in spite of how baggy it already hung off of him. He re-adjusted, pulling in and wondering if squeezing it close to his pricked skin could offer some semblance of solace. He walked a few more paces, a few moments longer in deep, frosted silence, his every breath steam in the air that floated up into a starry night. He could see the stars, at least – but the more time he spent looking at them, the more they looked like the void that was beginning to circle him.
He saw the same darkness when he looked back, scattered light glinting back like stolen snowflakes. He was too nervous to consider running backwards and retreading all the steps he’d taken since he found himself here, instead digging shivering toes deeper into pockets of dirt. Slow breaths, Kiseki. He needed to think through this. He wasn’t going to start crying. It was very, very scary, and weird, and confusing, and a little frustrating because he was very cold and alone and - no, that was still just scary. The problem was that he couldn’t seem to focus enough to actually think through anything; every time he closed his eyes, his body fought him to fall to the floor. Every time he found a point and started at it until he had something focal that he could revolve his thoughts around, his head began to swim and overwhelm with chaotic images until he was forced to look away and think of nothing.
This was not working. The wall was still here, but it wasn’t - and why couldn’t he deduce anything from that? Why couldn’t he think? If only Ichika was here. Someone stronger, someone braver, would just run and yell and bust their way out of whatever entrapment he had found himself in. What if someone had put him here? What if they came to find him?
What if nobody did?
“Hello?”, and the panic was setting in, his voice cracking under the weight as terror willed his legs to move and his blood to pump louder than the chaos in his head. “Ma? Pa? Icchan? Hello? Is anyone there?” He pawed blindly across the missing wall, stubbornly using the darkness to guide his way as every instinct screamed not to look over and get lost in the shadows. The other wall, and the branching ones affront him, still seemed to ‘exist’ - in that they were still the visage of grey stone - but the horror of them melting away to nothingness scared him off of experimenting with them. As they were now, the idea of solace was solace in and of itself.
He began to run. The shouting and show of strength to free himself from this place was lost to him, of course, his panicked breaths taking every bit of air that could be choking out words, but he ran, and he ran long. Minutes passed. Pain overtook terror, the exertion sputtering coughs from the small boy and his atrophied legs. He caught himself making pathetic noises akin between whines and sobs on each cloying gasp; and hugged his shoulders closer to him as if to shield his last wisp of heat from that which, too, would devour it. Was he going to become darkness, too? Darkness alone, a macabre of forgotten lights? Ma? Pa? Icchan? Anyone? Anyone, please, help –
“Ki ~ se ~ ki.”
The voice sent shivers down his spine, as if on instinct.
And as if on instinct, a lightbulb flickered over a dark room. The room was empty and shadowed, with no life plant or otherwise, but it was a room with a light. And the light, steady and dim, began to swing. Shadows were illuminated, pronouncing them a deeper darkness on each pendulum back. A dry swallow, melting cold in his throat for spittle to warm his chest. His heart skipped, and it started again, slow and far too even.
He looked up, eyes wide with a shaded glint beneath such deep blue - it was atlantean, freezing tides dragging themselves and everything near into this vortex of depth. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
"『 S H A T T E R ! 』"
He had turned on his heel, quick and practiced, hand grasping beneath his throat as proclamation met stone and stone gave way to divine authority. It took less than another beat of his heart before the wall melted away - or rather, it cracked, splintered and fell apart under the direction of his order. There was no darkness beyond. It was another path - the same path, but a new destination. He had broken through this abyssal maze and plunged himself into new waters without thought or consideration. His hands shook, nails digging into too soft skin and pooling easy blood beneath them.
A drop of snow kissed his nose.
Ba-dum. Ba-dumm . Baa-duummmm …
He watched the room beyond for any movement. “Hello?”, he tried again. There was no response, but he felt the giggle as if it was coming from inside of him. The lightbulb stopped swinging. The shadows were no longer alone. “Can I -”, and the strength of wounded prey had passed, “- can I help you?” It was a weak-willed question, spilling from scared pale and bleeding from his heart. He felt something so, so, so cold. It was building up in his chest, spreading through his veins and pricking at his skin. There was another drop of snow, and another, and snowflakes stopped at impact with his form and seemed to mold themselves there. They didn’t melt. They just … stayed. They waited. Is this how this force felt? Were they also this cold?
It came so easy, beckoning him closer: so closer he went. One step, two. It was getting harder the more snow piled against him. His face was spared; eyes no longer wild, but half-lidded. Curious. Charmed by the way he collected each snowflake until he wondered if he had become part of the cycle - if he, too, was about to fall from the sky. “Are y-you okay? Are you c-cold?” He could hear himself shivering, but he no longer felt it. He just saw white. In that little room, under that little light, he saw the most brilliant white.
He felt terror stifled beneath the frost.
“Can I h-help? Is that wh -”, it was getting hard to talk. It was getting hard to breathe. His lips were blue, just one step from the archway. “I-is that wwwhy … you b-brought me here?” He managed, trying to lick his lips to thaw - instead left with the worry they’d all get stuck together, so he thought it better not to speak at all.
Please don’t go in there.
Bat the lightbulb away.
Run back to the shadows.
There was something so unnatural about this white.
It was the color of snow.
Ash.
Bone.
Here, kitty, kitty. Run, kitty, kitty. Run along, run along. Back to grandma’s house.
He walked the threshold, and saw nothing. Felt nothing. The moment his frozen toes passed that final marker, it all went white. He could still hear the snow - the laughter - his own slow heartbeat, but he couldn’t respond to it. He just stood, frozen in this winter hellscape. The weight on him got heavier, and heavier, and heavier, and then –
And he woke up.
Kiseki jolted in the forest, his breathing hitched to panicked gasps that progressed to full hyperventilation as he tore himself from the ground and clawed at his own skin to validate its existence. He looked around, wildly, not bothering to fight back the tears that pricked and spilled from his eyes; but every drop brought warmth, and every shadow stayed a shadow among the trees. He pulled himself up to shaky legs, hugging his arms in, surveying every branch as tittering breaths slowed to a more thoughtful pensive. “Hello? Are you there?” He couldn’t make sense of any of it, but he did feel one thing. Above the fear, above the cold, above every desperation and the way his steps would slowly but surely lead him back home from where he found himself …
He felt loneliness.
And it gripped him.
A ~ hee ~ hee.
[ Using Discovery of Contract of Your Choice Card: Yokai ]
[ WC: 1856 ]
Where did the wall go?
“Hello?,” came a more urgent tone, uneven breaths with uneven steps. He scrabbled at the space where the wall was before, whipping around, inky darkness full of crystal lights offering him the same rock feeling despite its lack of shape. Did this count? Was there any protocol for finding himself in this situation? Where was he, anyway? A lurch as the world seemed to spin, rocking bare heels into grass-littered stone. It was a little uncomfortable. His feet were cold. It was really, really cold here, and without the ‘illusion’ of a wall to steady him - and only the ‘illusion’ itself remaining - he could no longer pretend like there was protection from the elements.
He didn’t have his scarf. Ahh. And after all the trouble he went through to get that back home … he pulled at his shirt as if he could stretch it over more of him, in spite of how baggy it already hung off of him. He re-adjusted, pulling in and wondering if squeezing it close to his pricked skin could offer some semblance of solace. He walked a few more paces, a few moments longer in deep, frosted silence, his every breath steam in the air that floated up into a starry night. He could see the stars, at least – but the more time he spent looking at them, the more they looked like the void that was beginning to circle him.
He saw the same darkness when he looked back, scattered light glinting back like stolen snowflakes. He was too nervous to consider running backwards and retreading all the steps he’d taken since he found himself here, instead digging shivering toes deeper into pockets of dirt. Slow breaths, Kiseki. He needed to think through this. He wasn’t going to start crying. It was very, very scary, and weird, and confusing, and a little frustrating because he was very cold and alone and - no, that was still just scary. The problem was that he couldn’t seem to focus enough to actually think through anything; every time he closed his eyes, his body fought him to fall to the floor. Every time he found a point and started at it until he had something focal that he could revolve his thoughts around, his head began to swim and overwhelm with chaotic images until he was forced to look away and think of nothing.
This was not working. The wall was still here, but it wasn’t - and why couldn’t he deduce anything from that? Why couldn’t he think? If only Ichika was here. Someone stronger, someone braver, would just run and yell and bust their way out of whatever entrapment he had found himself in. What if someone had put him here? What if they came to find him?
What if nobody did?
“Hello?”, and the panic was setting in, his voice cracking under the weight as terror willed his legs to move and his blood to pump louder than the chaos in his head. “Ma? Pa? Icchan? Hello? Is anyone there?” He pawed blindly across the missing wall, stubbornly using the darkness to guide his way as every instinct screamed not to look over and get lost in the shadows. The other wall, and the branching ones affront him, still seemed to ‘exist’ - in that they were still the visage of grey stone - but the horror of them melting away to nothingness scared him off of experimenting with them. As they were now, the idea of solace was solace in and of itself.
He began to run. The shouting and show of strength to free himself from this place was lost to him, of course, his panicked breaths taking every bit of air that could be choking out words, but he ran, and he ran long. Minutes passed. Pain overtook terror, the exertion sputtering coughs from the small boy and his atrophied legs. He caught himself making pathetic noises akin between whines and sobs on each cloying gasp; and hugged his shoulders closer to him as if to shield his last wisp of heat from that which, too, would devour it. Was he going to become darkness, too? Darkness alone, a macabre of forgotten lights? Ma? Pa? Icchan? Anyone? Anyone, please, help –
“Ki ~ se ~ ki.”
The voice sent shivers down his spine, as if on instinct.
And as if on instinct, a lightbulb flickered over a dark room. The room was empty and shadowed, with no life plant or otherwise, but it was a room with a light. And the light, steady and dim, began to swing. Shadows were illuminated, pronouncing them a deeper darkness on each pendulum back. A dry swallow, melting cold in his throat for spittle to warm his chest. His heart skipped, and it started again, slow and far too even.
“Ki ~ se ~ ki ~
Come ~ back ~ to ~ mi.”
Come ~ back ~ to ~ mi.”
He looked up, eyes wide with a shaded glint beneath such deep blue - it was atlantean, freezing tides dragging themselves and everything near into this vortex of depth. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
"『 S H A T T E R ! 』"
He had turned on his heel, quick and practiced, hand grasping beneath his throat as proclamation met stone and stone gave way to divine authority. It took less than another beat of his heart before the wall melted away - or rather, it cracked, splintered and fell apart under the direction of his order. There was no darkness beyond. It was another path - the same path, but a new destination. He had broken through this abyssal maze and plunged himself into new waters without thought or consideration. His hands shook, nails digging into too soft skin and pooling easy blood beneath them.
“ A ~ hee ~ hee ~ hee.”
It came from everywhere, so teasing and melodic. It seemed soft - but in a way that it meant to be, not one honest to intent. It wasn’t having fun for him. It was having fun with him. It reverberated through the child’s bones as he ran through his pathway and clawed through every pocket of cold air that hit him like a miasma to slow his escape. “Who are you?” His voice was meant to be louder, more demanding, fueled by his fear and primal response, the steady thrum of his heart more painful than the previous flutters. He heard his words in weak whispers that caressed his ears as they fell from his lips, however, and realized he was no more in control than he had started. He whipped, back and forth, but there was no longer a ‘way that he came’ - there was only forward. The walls, still as they were, parted to a single opening not far from where he stalled.A drop of snow kissed his nose.
Ba-dum. Ba-dumm . Baa-duummmm …
He watched the room beyond for any movement. “Hello?”, he tried again. There was no response, but he felt the giggle as if it was coming from inside of him. The lightbulb stopped swinging. The shadows were no longer alone. “Can I -”, and the strength of wounded prey had passed, “- can I help you?” It was a weak-willed question, spilling from scared pale and bleeding from his heart. He felt something so, so, so cold. It was building up in his chest, spreading through his veins and pricking at his skin. There was another drop of snow, and another, and snowflakes stopped at impact with his form and seemed to mold themselves there. They didn’t melt. They just … stayed. They waited. Is this how this force felt? Were they also this cold?
‘Ki ~ se ~ ki ~”
It came so easy, beckoning him closer: so closer he went. One step, two. It was getting harder the more snow piled against him. His face was spared; eyes no longer wild, but half-lidded. Curious. Charmed by the way he collected each snowflake until he wondered if he had become part of the cycle - if he, too, was about to fall from the sky. “Are y-you okay? Are you c-cold?” He could hear himself shivering, but he no longer felt it. He just saw white. In that little room, under that little light, he saw the most brilliant white.
He felt terror stifled beneath the frost.
“Can I h-help? Is that wh -”, it was getting hard to talk. It was getting hard to breathe. His lips were blue, just one step from the archway. “I-is that wwwhy … you b-brought me here?” He managed, trying to lick his lips to thaw - instead left with the worry they’d all get stuck together, so he thought it better not to speak at all.
“Play ~ with ~ mi ~”
Came the response.
“Ki ~ se ~ ki ~”
Came the response.
“Ki ~ se ~ ki ~”
Please don’t go in there.
Bat the lightbulb away.
Run back to the shadows.
There was something so unnatural about this white.
It was the color of snow.
Ash.
Bone.
Here, kitty, kitty. Run, kitty, kitty. Run along, run along. Back to grandma’s house.
“Ki ~ se ~ ki. You’re so pretty.”
He walked the threshold, and saw nothing. Felt nothing. The moment his frozen toes passed that final marker, it all went white. He could still hear the snow - the laughter - his own slow heartbeat, but he couldn’t respond to it. He just stood, frozen in this winter hellscape. The weight on him got heavier, and heavier, and heavier, and then –
“Let’s play again ~ okay? Come ~ find ~ mi ~ again ~
Ki ~ se ~ ki ~"
Ki ~ se ~ ki ~"
And he woke up.
Kiseki jolted in the forest, his breathing hitched to panicked gasps that progressed to full hyperventilation as he tore himself from the ground and clawed at his own skin to validate its existence. He looked around, wildly, not bothering to fight back the tears that pricked and spilled from his eyes; but every drop brought warmth, and every shadow stayed a shadow among the trees. He pulled himself up to shaky legs, hugging his arms in, surveying every branch as tittering breaths slowed to a more thoughtful pensive. “Hello? Are you there?” He couldn’t make sense of any of it, but he did feel one thing. Above the fear, above the cold, above every desperation and the way his steps would slowly but surely lead him back home from where he found himself …
He felt loneliness.
And it gripped him.
A ~ hee ~ hee.
[ Using Discovery of Contract of Your Choice Card: Yokai ]
[ WC: 1856 ]
