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Post by Situation on Jan 8, 2009 23:23:42 GMT -5
Oliver turns around to where August was standing a moment ago, still in the alternate eerie and quiet version of the Crest.
(OOC: Let the fun begin).
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Post by Oliver on Jan 8, 2009 23:35:40 GMT -5
"Huh..." Oliver looks at his hand that should of grabbed the apron then to the blade that would of pierced August's body. "Wha... ta... hells?" Confused, Oliver looks around, unsure what to do next.
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Post by Situation on Jan 8, 2009 23:42:19 GMT -5
"If you really insist on coming in, then by all means make yourself at home." August stands inside his clinic now at the head of a crudely constructed surgical table. His tone hasn't changed from the friendly and welcoming demeanor that Oliver has always seen. "But you'll have to pardon the mess." Stretched across the table is a white sheet that would be as spotless and pristine as the cleanest hospital's if it weren't for the scarlet stains that drench it around the middle. Oliver's keen nose can pick up the metallic tang of blood. "Come have a look if you wish. You're a curious little fellow aren't you?"
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Post by Oliver on Jan 9, 2009 0:00:21 GMT -5
((If David Bowie is under there, I'll hate you))
Warrily, Oliver walks over to August, clutching his shank close. "Wha... goin on?" He's skittish about this August's intentions. He smells off, the whole thing smells wrong, except for the blood, that smells as potent as ever. Oliver shakes his head no, looking at the table as if it was some malicious entity. "No... I'm good, rely, I am."
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Post by Situation on Jan 9, 2009 0:10:45 GMT -5
((David Bowie? Where did that come from?))
Something cold and clammy suddenly clamps itself around Oliver's wrist; a pale thin hand that just shot out from under the sheet. As it reaches for him, its covering falls away. His mother's eyes meet him from where she lays stretched across table. Her face is stained with grime and tears, and a long gash opens her at the top of her chest, and continues into the gaping hole that used to be her stomach. She screams shrilly, her eyes pleading. "It hurts! It hurts! Stop it!!!!"
August's voice is almost a blur on the fringe of this horrific nightmare, keeping his cool collected intellectual tone. "A mother defending her cub, it is said, can gain ten times its strength. I've often wondered if the same is true for the cub when the mother is threatened."
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Post by Oliver on Jan 9, 2009 0:18:52 GMT -5
Oliver tries to jump back but the grip of his dead mother is too strong for him to flee. He lets out a yelp of fear and surprise, his eyes are filled with tears, he tries not to look at the reanimated corpse of his mother, laying there, sprawled open like a fish. "No... no!" He yells, pulling at her hand, he hits his mothers hand with the pummel of the shank. "Ya hurtin me!" He looks to August, eyes pleading and full of fear. "'ake it stop! Tas not me mum!" Quickly he slices the corpse's fingers and falls back onto his tail as her grip is lost. He sits on the floor, hyperventilating while his eyes are transfixed to the squirming body of his mother laid upon the table. (( en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Labyrinth_(film) , dont tell me you never seen Labyrinth!?))
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Post by Situation on Jan 9, 2009 0:28:15 GMT -5
((Oh duh! Now I get it. Of course I've seen that movie. Can you believe that's Jennifer Connelly?) www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6Ua_wSfRPc&feature=relatedAugust looks down at Oliver sympathetically. "Oh my dear boy. I'm so sorry about what happened to your mother. You must be so lonely. Don't worry, if there's anything you need, anything at all, don't hesitate to ask. Just think of me as sort of a... well sort of a..." August's face shifts strangely, shrinking in places and growing in others, as if being distorted by a mirror. "Sort of a Father figure." Then the muzzle appears, and his face becomes that of the phantom Lillith had shown him in her story; Simon Fray. www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTYwkFoMeYY"Welcome home son."
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Post by Oliver on Jan 9, 2009 0:36:55 GMT -5
Oliver's eyes soften as he tilts his head to the side, like a confused dog would. He stutters at first, trying to speak.
"Dad...?" He asks in a low, soft whisper. "But... how? Ya dead." Oliver scoots back. "No ya dead, tis aint real, it aint. Stop it!" He scoots back further, kicking the ground and stumbling over himself. He covers his crying eyes, muttering to himself that this isn't real - confused and scared like any little child would.
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Post by Situation on Jan 9, 2009 0:56:02 GMT -5
"A chip off the old block," Simon says. "Just look at you. Come to join in on the fun with your old man?" He moves around to the other side of the table, quick and catlike, just like how Oliver moves when he wants to be stealthy. "Come on son, it's fun. I used to do this in the forests, living like an animal. An animal just like you." He raises his claws above the moaning corpse of his mother and brings them down quickly.
"AAH *gasp* *croak* AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!" His mother writhes on the table's surface as the blood of her innards spills out over her sides.
Simon holds out his bloody claws to Oliver, licking his fangs. "Come on son. I think you'll like this."
There's a gunshot, and Simon's mouth hangs open with his tongue lolling out the side. He slumps over, revealing a girl with a shoulder-length ponytail of bone white hair. Her eyes are sky-blue and pupiless, hidden behind half-moon glasses that are now stained with a spurt blood. A strange glowing opaque rifle is in her hands "He was a monster. A filthy murderer. And you're not going to be any different." She points the gun at Oliver, clicking the barrel into place. "You're already consumed with thoughts of murder and revenge. It won't be long. But I can put a stop to you right here."
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Post by Oliver on Jan 9, 2009 1:07:03 GMT -5
Oliver peeks between his fingers as his 'father' strikes down his wailing 'mother', he flinches as the claws slice through his 'mother' and as the blood and viscera slide close to his feet, he squirms away.
"No! No! No!" He screams out. "Tis'nt real, no on'bit!" Tears stream down his furry cheeks and inside him he feels the urge to vomit, then the gunshot rattles his ears. A spray of his father's blood splatters his face, arms and chest. His breathing stop as he watches his father slump over his dead mother. His eyes quiver as they dart between Simon's body and the stranger with a rifle, he raises a arm, begging her to stop. "I not'in 'ike him, no, p'ease... Help me..."
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Post by Situation on Jan 9, 2009 1:21:46 GMT -5
((Anyone reading this who hasn't gotten the clue yet, that's Cherai with the gun))
The rifle in the woman's hand changes shape into a long slender knife. The woman changes as well. Her skin takes on a deeper tan and her hair grows to brush her back as it darkens. Her glasses vanish and her eyes gain slitted pupils and become a cat-like green color. Lillith stares at the boy with a deadpan expression
"Don't lie Oliver. I heard you on the train, whispering in your sleep. You talked all about how you'd tear him open when you found him. How does that make you any different? Monsters like you should be put down."
A spark shoots from the tip of her blade and hits the floor just in front of where Oliver is kneeling. Then Lillith actually walks through the table and the two corpses, knife in hand and emotionless eyes. Oliver's only clear way of escape is back out of the clinic.
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Post by Oliver on Jan 9, 2009 1:36:00 GMT -5
"Ya not Lillith, ya aint!" Oliver scrambles to his feet, slipping all the while in the blood of his father and mother. Gets to his feet and turns tail and runs from the spectral Lillith, darting through the door of the clinic out into the strange, yet all to familiar city.
He slips in the snow a few feet away from the clinic, landing on his crying face. He claws at the ground to get back up, a sharp pain in his knee. "Help me..." He cries out. "Mum!" He cries. "Iole! Lillith! Anyone!" He pounds his fist into the snow, his eyes overrunning with tears. "A'one... a'ways a'one...."
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Post by Situation on Jan 9, 2009 1:55:36 GMT -5
Oliver continues his mad dash down the road with Lillith following. She's a good distance behind him, not running but walking with purpose in her stride. She doesn't yell, but her voice may as well be right in Oliver's ear. "You can run but you can't hide." www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRxUpHHVINQ&feature=relatedIn desperation, he rounds the corner into a back alley and hits something solid. It bounces him back to land on the ground. When he looks up, he sees an omnious figure, shrouded in a tattered charcoal cloak. The only details of its face that can be seen clearly are a fanged snout, like that of a wolf, and a pair of gleaming topaz eyes. Oliver can't feel or sense anything about this thing. It doesn't feel ominous, nor does if fell friendly. It's just.... there. But its appearance makes Oliver think of the drawings in the notebook that he saw at the clinic, the one the madwoman called The King In Yellow.
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Post by Oliver on Jan 9, 2009 2:03:01 GMT -5
Oliver shuffles back in the snow, hand raised and finger pointing the the creature standing before him.
"I 'now ya!" He says in a stutter. "From ta notebook! Ta king guy! Ge'away from me!" Oliver stumbles up to his feat and in a clumsy turn, darts back down the alley from whence he came.
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Post by Situation on Jan 9, 2009 2:14:31 GMT -5
Oliver finds that he runs straight into something again and finds that the King bars his path once more. It says nothing. It just points. If Oliver turns back towards the other end of the alley, he'll find a tall thin wiry man disappearing around the corner at a run. August.
"Is he not the cause of this? Perhaps without him, this all goes away."
The creature's topaz eyes flicker towards the road where Lillith is getting closer, staring straight ahead, never breaking her stride like some kind of juggernaut. The King looks back at Oliver. "Better hurry. Perhaps there is freedom in vengeance."
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Post by Oliver on Jan 9, 2009 2:24:08 GMT -5
"Tis isn't real!" Oliver screams at the King. "Ya aint real! She aint real! And he aint real! I k'ow real an tis aint it!" He stabs the King with his make-shift dagger, repeatedly. "Go away! GO AWAY!" With his last stab, Oliver slumps to the ground on his knees. "Leave... me a'one... jus a nigh'error... thas all..."
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Post by Situation on Jan 9, 2009 2:47:09 GMT -5
Oliver's tiring stabs hit nothing. Where the blade meets the King, there is only smoke. Not even a hole in his cloak shows.
"Oh? Perhaps I am just a figment of your imagination. But was he? Was what happened to your mother? I think you'll find that was very real. What he did was real. What he's going to do is real." Oliver feels the King's hot breath by his ear. "And Iole's next."
The rythmic clicking of Lillith's boots on the cobblestone pavement is getting ever closer.
The King rises and points again down the alley where August ran. "Save her. Prove them all wrong and save her. Be the hero and take your revenge. No one can call you a monster then."
((alas, I must turn in for the night. Perhaps this will give Kenny and Iole a chance to catch up. Kenny hasn't even entered his hell yet.)
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Post by Oliver on Jan 9, 2009 3:05:44 GMT -5
Oliver shakes his down trodden head no. "I wo't 'isten to ya, I wo't. Tas not ta real August or Lillith, jus ghosts 'ike you. None of tis is real..." His crying turns to sniffles as he wipes some tears from his eyes. "None of tis is real!" He grabs the sides of his head and flails frustratedly. "Shudup shudup! Ges outa ma head!"
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Post by Situation on Jan 9, 2009 21:12:33 GMT -5
There's a scream at the other end of the alley. Oliver is sure it's Iole's, and it's coming from the direction he had just seen August take off to. The King shakes his head.
"How tragic. It may already be too late. I'm growing tired of this maze. You do what you feel like." The wind begins to blow, and the creature fades into the shadows.
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Post by Oliver on Jan 9, 2009 21:16:56 GMT -5
"Is... all fake, all fake..." Oliver continues to mutter to himself as the King fades away. He stands then, turning towards where the screams erupted from. Warily Oliver shuffles toward the sounds, his shank clutched tightly close to his chest, tail dragging through the snow, ears down and timid. He didn't want to see what was there, he knows it won't be pleasant, but he just can't stop himself for seeing with his own eyes. "Is jus a dream, jus a dream." He whispers to himself as he rounds the corner to where the scream came from.
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