09-26-2018, 11:08 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-26-2018, 11:12 PM by Noah.
Edit Reason: Forgot to copy the last paragraph. #I'manidiot
)
The pulse of the heart is not steady, but it is deep and powerful. Each time it pulses, Noah feels a little more ill. She drags herself to her feet, the deep water feeling heavy against her skin. She’s vaguely aware of the others around her, a loose circle of strangers around a sickly glowing heart of a dead Kingdom. Noah doesn’t bother looking at their faces, she only has eyes for the thing that draws her, attracting even as it makes her ill. Her body aches, and some deep part of her mind knows that will only get worse when they surface for air, and the water no longer supports her.
<p>She knows nothing of Pangea’s history. Knows very little about their puppetmaster, either. She’s a little uncomfortable because of the illness – why would doing this make her sick, if it’s a good thing to do? On the flip side, Noah supposes everything worth having is worth sacrificing and working for, and maybe the sickness is the sacrifice. His voice resonates within her, and she knows she has a decision to make. Maybe she couldn’t stop it from coming back out (she can feel it moving within her), but a part of her wonders if she should flee. Should Pangea stay at the bottom of the ocean? If she ran away fast enough, would her piece of the mountain rest harmlessly somewhere else?
<p>Would she drown, in the attempt?
<p>Without the history that would make her wary of Pangea and Carnage, she doesn’t have much reason to resist. A vague feeling of unease is not enough. The heart groans, as if it’s dying. She doesn’t want it to die. She thinks, with a little hopeful smile, that helping raise Pangea would be kind of a better thing, a creation of sorts. Noah thinks her dad might be proud. Creation is the opposite of the thing he calls his curse, after all, and the thing she too holds though so far she’s managed to keep it a secret from him. Rhonen doesn’t need to know his little miracle shares his “curse”. The little roan mare relaxes, sighs, closes her eyes, and simply exhales and doesn’t resist, beyond a furrow of her face at the discomfort.
<p>It wasn’t comfortable having a piece of rock shoot into her chest, and it’s not comfortable having it propel itself back out. It stings, perhaps sears, but the pain is good. A relief. These fragments didn’t belong to her, and her body didn’t really want to carry them. Maybe it’s why she didn’t feel good. It’s hot as it reaches the surface and she cries out at the very end, her eyes flying open as the piece, slick with dark blood, pops out of the last layer of skin and flesh.
<p>She passes out - maybe shock, maybe something unnatural like how she got here. When she recovers, she's lying in the sand on the beach where they started, the dark water lapping at her legs and tummy. Underwater she was right - without the support of the water her injuries are much more painful and she groans, blinking in the bright light as she rolls upright and looks around. If she wasn't in so much pain, she'd wonder if it was all a dream.
<p>She knows nothing of Pangea’s history. Knows very little about their puppetmaster, either. She’s a little uncomfortable because of the illness – why would doing this make her sick, if it’s a good thing to do? On the flip side, Noah supposes everything worth having is worth sacrificing and working for, and maybe the sickness is the sacrifice. His voice resonates within her, and she knows she has a decision to make. Maybe she couldn’t stop it from coming back out (she can feel it moving within her), but a part of her wonders if she should flee. Should Pangea stay at the bottom of the ocean? If she ran away fast enough, would her piece of the mountain rest harmlessly somewhere else?
<p>Would she drown, in the attempt?
<p>Without the history that would make her wary of Pangea and Carnage, she doesn’t have much reason to resist. A vague feeling of unease is not enough. The heart groans, as if it’s dying. She doesn’t want it to die. She thinks, with a little hopeful smile, that helping raise Pangea would be kind of a better thing, a creation of sorts. Noah thinks her dad might be proud. Creation is the opposite of the thing he calls his curse, after all, and the thing she too holds though so far she’s managed to keep it a secret from him. Rhonen doesn’t need to know his little miracle shares his “curse”. The little roan mare relaxes, sighs, closes her eyes, and simply exhales and doesn’t resist, beyond a furrow of her face at the discomfort.
<p>It wasn’t comfortable having a piece of rock shoot into her chest, and it’s not comfortable having it propel itself back out. It stings, perhaps sears, but the pain is good. A relief. These fragments didn’t belong to her, and her body didn’t really want to carry them. Maybe it’s why she didn’t feel good. It’s hot as it reaches the surface and she cries out at the very end, her eyes flying open as the piece, slick with dark blood, pops out of the last layer of skin and flesh.
<p>She passes out - maybe shock, maybe something unnatural like how she got here. When she recovers, she's lying in the sand on the beach where they started, the dark water lapping at her legs and tummy. Underwater she was right - without the support of the water her injuries are much more painful and she groans, blinking in the bright light as she rolls upright and looks around. If she wasn't in so much pain, she'd wonder if it was all a dream.