09-17-2018, 12:38 AM
As his hooves sink into solid, if not mushy and slimy, land, Carnage's voice echoes in his head--all of their heads, he realizes as he looks around at the rest of them. He can make out the trees and a slight pathway ahead of them, and several of the horses have already began making their own way down it, towards the mysterious heart that the Dark God wants them to find. He glances at a few of the others, tipping his head curiously, but no one seems very interested in him. That is fine with him. He knows none of them.
The mud pulls at his hooves as he sets off, threatening to suck him down into Pangea. He has to battle with every step he takes, yanking each hoof out of the muck and trying to find any bit of solid ground to rest his feet upon; but then, the land has been sunk for so long that trying to find anything solid down here is almost laughable. No wonder the magician wanted nothing to do with this place.
Other than the pulsing green light in the distance, all light has faded. He can see the outlines of dead trees lit up against the glow of the heart, and the very hint of the path in front of him, but beyond that? He could very well be blind. His progress is slower than some of the others (some of them move so smoothly, so carefully through the mud, as if it is a second skin to them), but he is steadily progressing along towards the heart, though he is wary for dangers ahead.
Before long he hears those ahead of him locked in battle and he pauses for a moment, knowing his turn is about to come. But from where? He hears a squelch and turns to face it, and from the treeline comes a rotting corpse, tinged green by the light of the heart. Her dragon wings are ripped and torn, but the mark on her chest is unmistakable and Oxytocin stumbles backward, nearly falling in the that he has almost grown accustomed to. "Cress?" he manages to croak before the monster is upon him.
<i>No, no, no,</i> he thinks as she lunges at him and he shies away, out of reach of her gaping jaws and thrashing wings. <i>I just saw her and the girl, she's not dead, she can't be dead.</i> Before he can regain his composure and face his daughter, she is attacking him again, trying to breathe fire underwater.
The only thing that escapes her maw is scalding hot bubbles, but it burns and blisters just the same. Oxy cries out as his face and neck burn, and attacks out of instinct. His teeth meet her neck as her jaws scrabble for purchase anywhere they can reach until she finally bites down on the bit of his neck she had just burnt. Grunting in pain, Oxy tears away from her, pulling chunks of muscle and sinew away from her rotting body. Spitting out the mouthful of rotten flesh, he glares at his dead daughter. How can it be her? It can't possibly be her. "Cress, <i>enough</i>," he snaps, then lunges for her again. She would never find herself caught by Carnage again, not after the first time. She's smarter than that.
This time his hooves find her withers, where her damaged wings connect to her body. It only takes one hard blow to crush her withers, as her body is waterlogged and aged with rot. The not-Cress (because he can't think of her as his daughter, his daughter is alive and well, she can't possibly be dead) falls to the ground and begins to keen, and Oxy grimaces. As he steps toward her head to deliver the final blow--he can't look her in the eye to do it, though, that is just too cruel--she stops keening and looks directly at him. With her last breath, she pours more boiling water at him and he screeches as it burns away the hair between his front legs and up his chest, and then her skull caves and it is over.
He turns away from the corpse, grateful for once that they are underwater.
<i>Find the heart.</i>
Slower this time, because now he feels sick to his stomach and he burns all over, he continues along the path.The glow of the heart grows ever stronger with every step he takes, and he wonders if everyone else feels quite as awful as he does; he wonders if they all encountered something so terrible.
<i>"You were always a terrible father to her anyways,"</i> a voice whispers in his ear, but he is too hurt, too sick to fight back. <i>"A terrible lover as well, always leaving your girls behind for something bigger and better. Did I mention what a terrible king you made as well? Who would've thought that a child king would be a total flop? Uh, how about LITERALLY ANYONE?"</i>
"Stop," he mumbles, knowing it's just his subconscious now, but the thoughts are rolling and he can't control them. It's been coming for so long now that he can stop it now and he wants to be physically ill but it's impossible. He knows it was inevitable one day for Cress to die before him--he's immortal, after all--but now? So recently? How could that have been her?
He arrives at the heart, bleeding and miserable, hardly taking in the others that have arrived before him. His eyes just focus on the light as his knees sink to the mud, unable to hold him up any longer. He'll get up when the rest arrive.
The mud pulls at his hooves as he sets off, threatening to suck him down into Pangea. He has to battle with every step he takes, yanking each hoof out of the muck and trying to find any bit of solid ground to rest his feet upon; but then, the land has been sunk for so long that trying to find anything solid down here is almost laughable. No wonder the magician wanted nothing to do with this place.
Other than the pulsing green light in the distance, all light has faded. He can see the outlines of dead trees lit up against the glow of the heart, and the very hint of the path in front of him, but beyond that? He could very well be blind. His progress is slower than some of the others (some of them move so smoothly, so carefully through the mud, as if it is a second skin to them), but he is steadily progressing along towards the heart, though he is wary for dangers ahead.
Before long he hears those ahead of him locked in battle and he pauses for a moment, knowing his turn is about to come. But from where? He hears a squelch and turns to face it, and from the treeline comes a rotting corpse, tinged green by the light of the heart. Her dragon wings are ripped and torn, but the mark on her chest is unmistakable and Oxytocin stumbles backward, nearly falling in the that he has almost grown accustomed to. "Cress?" he manages to croak before the monster is upon him.
<i>No, no, no,</i> he thinks as she lunges at him and he shies away, out of reach of her gaping jaws and thrashing wings. <i>I just saw her and the girl, she's not dead, she can't be dead.</i> Before he can regain his composure and face his daughter, she is attacking him again, trying to breathe fire underwater.
The only thing that escapes her maw is scalding hot bubbles, but it burns and blisters just the same. Oxy cries out as his face and neck burn, and attacks out of instinct. His teeth meet her neck as her jaws scrabble for purchase anywhere they can reach until she finally bites down on the bit of his neck she had just burnt. Grunting in pain, Oxy tears away from her, pulling chunks of muscle and sinew away from her rotting body. Spitting out the mouthful of rotten flesh, he glares at his dead daughter. How can it be her? It can't possibly be her. "Cress, <i>enough</i>," he snaps, then lunges for her again. She would never find herself caught by Carnage again, not after the first time. She's smarter than that.
This time his hooves find her withers, where her damaged wings connect to her body. It only takes one hard blow to crush her withers, as her body is waterlogged and aged with rot. The not-Cress (because he can't think of her as his daughter, his daughter is alive and well, she can't possibly be dead) falls to the ground and begins to keen, and Oxy grimaces. As he steps toward her head to deliver the final blow--he can't look her in the eye to do it, though, that is just too cruel--she stops keening and looks directly at him. With her last breath, she pours more boiling water at him and he screeches as it burns away the hair between his front legs and up his chest, and then her skull caves and it is over.
He turns away from the corpse, grateful for once that they are underwater.
<i>Find the heart.</i>
Slower this time, because now he feels sick to his stomach and he burns all over, he continues along the path.The glow of the heart grows ever stronger with every step he takes, and he wonders if everyone else feels quite as awful as he does; he wonders if they all encountered something so terrible.
<i>"You were always a terrible father to her anyways,"</i> a voice whispers in his ear, but he is too hurt, too sick to fight back. <i>"A terrible lover as well, always leaving your girls behind for something bigger and better. Did I mention what a terrible king you made as well? Who would've thought that a child king would be a total flop? Uh, how about LITERALLY ANYONE?"</i>
"Stop," he mumbles, knowing it's just his subconscious now, but the thoughts are rolling and he can't control them. It's been coming for so long now that he can stop it now and he wants to be physically ill but it's impossible. He knows it was inevitable one day for Cress to die before him--he's immortal, after all--but now? So recently? How could that have been her?
He arrives at the heart, bleeding and miserable, hardly taking in the others that have arrived before him. His eyes just focus on the light as his knees sink to the mud, unable to hold him up any longer. He'll get up when the rest arrive.