HEARTGAME DRESS REHEARSAL

[finalbows]

thank u rah u hero

tracking sheet
 

[ ..somewhere in the pasture, Angel Devil falls down.
His clothes have twisted away into bone-white rags, leaving a body covered over with only thick swathes of red fur, and downy feathers. His long tail is curled into a tense arc, banded fur standing on end.

The air wavers like he’s a heat mirage, not a man. He’s boiling away with absolutely stupid amounts of arcane power… and, most frighteningly, he does not seem in control of the fact that it is there and being brought to bear. It’s impossible to get any closer to him.


When he speaks, it’s quite timid. ]

Ah,
I thought… I had a little more time.

[ (and in a blinding flash of light, there is the sound of something breaking.) ]

~KRRSHHK~

[any observers will see, strangely see-through and superimposed on the scene, some kind of vast tree, illusionary roots twisting over and around to frame a door.  the door itself is wrought of opaque stained glass in blacks and whites and greys; a stylized rendition of Angie in that strangely ragged, feathered form, curled in on himself, eyes closed.  Angie himself is nowhere to be seen. ]

instead, a shadow . . . steps into view from behind the door.  for a moment it looks like nothing so much as a second genome – then it turns, gaining features and definition with the movement.  The monkey tail separates into three plumes; a ponytail unfurls into wings that lift up from the sides of the head.  

Teleute(?) is here, dressed in her customary black, but there is colour in her skin, and her hair and eyes are blue.  she’s frowning.]

. . . well.  This is the least I can do before I go, in exchange for the safe harbor.

[she lifts her head, nodding to any observers, and gestures at the door.]

You’ll want to head in there now if you don’t wish to lose your flockmate, I think.  Even the false-death of this place won’t be much help to him, if his soul is left to finish pulling itself apart.

My sisters and I can maintain the way into and out of it for you, but we were not made to knit such wounds by ourselves.  Have a care.

Comments

[wants_the_phd]

[if only she knew jack shit about flower meanings.]

[Well, there's a bare space in the middle. She carefully steps through the flowers, trying not to crush anything, and curls up on the cursed, empty spot.]

[Does anything happen?]

[finalbows]

[ she feels very small, loathsome, and afraid, but that's not precisely new, now, is it?



but some piece of her slowly aches less. the proximity of a flockmate? the mere fact of "closeness," her deep pressure weight upon this wounded piece of a person?

is it due to the rampaging dragon laying down like this field of obscured messages, meanings, feelings, is the epicenter of her very own hoard?

...kinda feels like there's a little mound in the earth beneath you, that you hadn't noticed before. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Well. It turns out she's very good at digging. Can she root around like a truffle pig and see if she can excavate anything?]

[finalbows]

[ planted like a bulb in the ground beneath the site of their coupling is a red, horned mask.

Gained MASK OF DESIRE. ]


[ ... is the Mist getting thinner? ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Heuhuehuehue horny mask. Good.]

[She gently noses it out of the way so she can curl up in that bare spot again. But this time, she wills thornless vines to snake up from the ground around her. They twine across her back, and weave around her limbs, and wrap themselves tightly around her horns. It's not long before she's bound so tightly to this spot that she can't move, even when she strains against the vines to test them.]

[Satisfied, wild roses begin to bloom in clusters all over her. They're simple, five-petaled affairs, some of which immediately fade and turn to blood-red hips that match her spines.]

[Finally, she opens her mouth and lets herself pour out of this body's mouth and eyes, leaving it looking for all the world like the wretched, dying thing it is.]

[finalbows]

[ breaking my rule about piano only in the theatre because I am literally not going to get a better place to use THIS song, as Azdaja binds herself down to a forced rest.

you are now standing beside yourself. your nightmare doppelganger is slowly becoming more alert, starting to writhe and struggle pointlessly in the binds of the vines. ]

1/2

[wants_the_phd]

[The true Azdaja crouches beside herself, gently cups scaly cheeks in her small, delicate hands, and leans down to tenderly rest her forehead against the others.]

[She floods Nightmare Azdaja with calm satisfaction. Peace. The feeling of safety. The desire to keep this place safe.]



[Once her other self starts to settle, she places the mask of desire on its face, to give Future Angie something to think about.]

[wants_the_phd]

[Alright. How's the mist looking now. Better? More confused?]

[finalbows]

[ dragon az would look so cute with a special dragon-sized mask on,

anyway.
if the Mist was getting thinner before, after you settled and appointed that new guardian, it's vanished. what remains are the completely withered hedges with death-black roses, stony thorns, thick turns of tree roots...

and a clear path to the bedroom at the end of the course, if she puts her back into it. it seems like clambering up on those roots will let her skip some of the really bullshit parts of the course. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[We are doing that, then. Hup hup hup]

[He better appreciate that she is being athletic for him because I assure you, it does not come naturally. ]

[finalbows]

[ suffer, fellow noodly need. ]

[ the door is completely normal and not fucked up in any way shape or form.

...opening it, you feel your connection to your own mana come back online like cool water down a parched throat.

quick check as we cross the threshold. what mask are we wearing now, if any? ]

[wants_the_phd]

[We are wearing Tenderness now. Sorry to keep switching. Rip to your tracking sheet.]

[finalbows]

[ that's what it's there for ☆
in that case...

the rose guest room is nice. comfortably appointed, by the standards of a human body. a shade shaped very much like angie sits primly on the side of the bed, a compact in his hand as he carefully works to fix no-doubt ruined make up.

...except it's not really doing much of anything, because he's wearing a familiar blue mask, ridden with holes. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Can we try removing his mask? Is there any resistance?]

[finalbows]

[ (as you advance across the room to him, something squishy pops under your shoe. that's. that's probably fine. you're busy.)
he's very preoccupied with his own face, right up until you wrap your hands around the corners of the unsettling mask and tug. it doesn't budge.

you abruptly find yourself wrapped up in vines again, pulled away just far enough you can no longer reach.

...the shade spares you what is probably an absolutely withering stare. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Did she just step on an egg. Why's that on the floor. That's not where it's supposed to be.]

[Okay. Looks like switching out his mask isn't an option, so she's just going to do what she originally came here for, she guesses.]

[Thanks to the innate instruction she gets from being basted in soul vibes, she theoretically knows what to do. Other than that, she just has to try her best.]

[She casts Life.]

[But, like, while making this face.]

[finalbows]

[ DLLLING! the cute sparkly healing magic flies around angie's shade like a friendly fairy!

and the death mask starts glowing. changing shape, though not color. it is now a MASK OF PERSEVERANCE.
he reaches his hands up to touch his changed mask in wonder. ]

[wants_the_phd]

Good.

[Because of their truly absurd height difference, him sitting down while she stands probably puts them at about eye level.]

Révérence... You may have died in the past, but look: you're still here. And as long as you still enjoy this world, and want to be in it, then keep persevering. Don't give up without a fight. This may not be the world you fell in love with, but it doesn't mean it's not worth falling in love again. The universe is bigger than we ever dreamed, and there's still more of it for you to discover.

That's why you need this:

[She takes off the mask of tenderness, knowing it may change this world for her. But now he need it more. So she presses it into his hands.]

[finalbows]

[ he takes it.
...holds it close to his chest. a little ruefully, he says, ]

...Thank you. Azdaja.

[ the vines had loosened, but now the rest of them recede, as he stands up... leans close to her...
whispers, ]

^{I'll never forget what you've done to me.}

[ all is quiet.
...though that shade of her flockmate has now vanished, she knows it is because that important piece of him has departed for where he's meant to be, prevented from sinking away to nothingness and shadow. ]

[wants_the_phd]

["I'll never forget what you've done to me."]

Good.

[She slips the Mask of Cruelty back on her face.]

[finalbows]

[ it's putting on your own pair of glasses after a day without.
the world is sharper. in focus. crisp; as it should be.

bone deep, she feels like she is a clever and dangerous thing. the evidence of her skill, the fact that she is still even standing.

is it lighter? or has she become more accustomed, to the weight? ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Maybe it's because she's leaned in and embraced it with eager claws. This is her favorite feeling, after all. And in a place where she got to put this feeling into action.]

[With that, she makes to leave the barn behind entirely. She's going to start checking out the other locations, if she can, starting with the church.]

[Let's see what else she can destroy gently fix, apparently]

[finalbows]

[ good pick. the church is nestled between Rose pasture and the inner depths of the puddle-filled forest. it's not in the best of condition... but that's a good sign for her little quest, isn't it?

...with the clarity of sight offered you by the mask of cruelty,
you notice all the scattered bones laying around the path up to its entrance.
if you take a close look, they're definitely from bipeds, but also reminiscent of rats. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Oohh... Angie mentioned these guys to her once during the memory share game. What were they called, again? B... Burmese...something.]

[oh well.]

[As usual when approaching something new that has an unknown danger level, she picks her way toward it as silently as she can, keeping her ears pricked and sniff sniff sniffing the air for info.]

[finalbows]

[ leaf litter... fresh rain... hints of graveyard dirt... wilting roses, but maybe that's from the place she just left...? though the ones outside in the pasture were all doing just fine.

and a sort of sour, burned scent. if she's in the habit of huffing a lot of different kinds of burned woods, it's from too-fresh oak. if not, the best word for it is 'vinegar and char.'


..sniff, sniff, sniff. when she's gotten almost terribly close, she'll become certain there's a human in there... though the scent is also clouded with... something kind of fizzy. electric. ]