05-12-2015, 03:55 PM
Oh look, oh my star is fading
She blinks, and the stars are alive. She gasps at space, at the beauty of the night sky writ large, all around her. She isn't afraid – why would she be? She doesn't know that she should be unable to breathe, that she should be cold, that she should shatter, that she should be unable to move. She simply knows that when she thinks of movement, it happens.look for the warmth. She always looks for the warmth; the kindness of a gaze, the gentle heat of a heart that loves without fear. And is it not true that like attracts like? And so she closes her eyes and opens her heart, straining her senses to find warmth.
She becomes aware, then, of others around her, pinpricks of warmth against space that, she realizes quite suddenly, is actually terrifyingly cold. She exhales, watching her breath turn to sharp ice as it leaves her mouth, and feeling the surprise as air fills her lungs again although she did not inhale. It is then that she realizes what kind of place they have come to: that she is entirely out of her depth.
But it's okay, because she promised. All she has to do is look for the warmth. And hurry.
She can't sense warmth beyond the milieu of the other horses who are here with her, and much as she would like to linger and see them all succeed, she knows time is limited. She hopes they will be cared for. And so with a thought, she sends herself rocketing out past the fringes, coming to an ungraceful halt as she tries to maneuver herself using mental thrusters. No gravity, no momentum, no resistance – nothing to stop her but her.
And now, in the silence, she closes her eyes and feels again.
The warmth of the others is far away now, and all she feels is cold, cold stretching in every direction – except one. It doesn't feel like any warmth she's known, but it is warmth, and this place is like nothing she's ever known, so perhaps it fits.
Another kick, and she's wheeling toward the source of the warmth, eyes growing wide as she does so. She manages to come to an awkward stop, just in time – just shy of running right into the personal space of an impossibly vast creature.
It is a green blob, stretching out for what must be hundreds of miles. It appears to be alive, breathing, its hide a strange gelatinous goo that quivers with its breaths. The pile seems to have a top, as though the goo had been formed, or dumped out, somewhere that had gravity, and then moved here, after it had already assembled itself. The top is smooth, dome-like, and covered in pink eyes, no bigger than an average horse's hoof. There must be thousands of them, all moving independently, and Wrynn can't help but wonder how on earth this creature sees.
It's entirely clear how it eats. Facing her, so directly in her path that she'd have run into it if she hadn't managed her awkward stop, is a huge mouth. It could probably have eaten every horse that came through to this world in a single gulp and have barely even felt it. It is a mouth with rings of sharp teeth, contracting and pulsing, set within grossly red-pink flesh. As she watches, a bit of green goo drops off of the space where its lips should be, down past the crevasse of the mouth, only to be drawn back to the bottom of the body as though through a magnetic force.
It's a terrifying thing, but Wrynn can't let herself be terrified now. She's made a promise, and she does not break promises.
She backs herself up enough that she hopes the creature can see her. "Hello." her voice is bright, cheerful, friendly. "I'm Wrynn. I'm here helping a friend find someone dear to him that he's lost." she isn't lying; to her, the strange voice is a friend, Carnage is a friend, and she can only assume that if he's willing to send them this far away, he has indeed lost someone very dear.
"I'm looking for the warmest place in this whole…area." she struggles to find that last word, the right word to describe the strangeness where she has landed. "Do you know where I might find it?" She offers the creature a smile, not showing teeth, hoping that it can understand what the gesture means.
The monster says nothing for a minute, its teeth shifting like rings within rings, like some sick whirligig ride at a terrible carnival. Her smile flickers, thinking that it has not understood. But all at once, with a noise like a roar, the same green goo that coats its body comes pouring from its mouth. It is too fast for Wrynn to even think of moving out of the way, and instantly, she is covered. It burns a little, and she wonders for a moment if she's being digested. She hopes not.
Go home, little one The voice in her mind is neither male nor female. It is as though a million voices speak all at once, with one purpose. It is impossible to tell if the voice mocks her, chastises her like a mother, or is simply indifferent. "I can't," she replies, not sure whether she speaks with her mouth or with her mind. "I promised a friend." A promise is nothing it says, still affectless. "A promise is everything." she replies, not by way of argument, but with a child's quiet certainty.
Are you sure? She isn't even sure what it's asking – is she sure about promises? Is she sure about her friend, is she sure about her choice? Blessedly for her, she is a child, and she has the certainty that only a child can have. She is calmly, quietly sure about everything. "Yes." she answers, her voice calm and certain.
And then she feels herself moving, in a direction that she thinks means she is being sucked back toward the mouth. She struggles, but the goo is too strong. The goo begins to drip off her, being reabsorbed into the monster itself. We shall see if you are sure, it says.
And then she slides into the mouth.
There is nothing for her to do – no sting, no crush, the teeth don't cave in on her. It is not like she expected being eaten would be, it doesn't even hurt. And so, oddly, she is not afraid. She closes her eyes and moves herself forward, deeper into the mouth, thinking only, "find the warmth".
The voice-voices start to whisper, wordlessly whirring around her and she finds herself saying her words against them. "A promise is a promise, find the warmth." their buzz builds until they are screaming, yelling, a crescendo in her head –as they crescendo her words crescendo too, until her soft, quiet voice is screaming, yelling - and then, suddenly, she is embraced by cold again.
Space is dark and dotted with stars, and the creature is nowhere to be found. But in front of her, flickering and glimmering, is a shimmer in time that seems to radiate warmth. From time to time a glimmer of something seems to peek through the veil, a hint of sound.
It makes no sense, but does anything else here? Find the warmth, he said, and she's found warmth. Perhaps it is an illusion, deep within the belly of the monster. Or perhaps the monster was simply testing her faith, and she has proven it right. Or perhaps the warmth is deep within the belly of the monster. She can't be certain, but she has all the faith and quiet courage in the world.
With a thought, she moves toward it, and without hesitation, steps through.
wrynn