======Esp Qltcpde zq espx Lww====== =====Writeup===== cw: blood, gore, insanity, pain, lack of punctuation ??:?? Pain. So much pain. Your head is splitting. Your face is wet. Everything fucking hurts. You press yourself up from the floor with what strength you have in your arms. Your world spins. Your ears ring. Your eyes focus, and unfocus. You're in the infirmary... you think. Chris is gone. Devo is gone. All that's left is a smear of blood leading to the exit, coming from a pool in the corner. A hole is in the wall. Your brain remembers a sound like thunder from your right ear. Your temples throb. How dare it. HOW DARE IT. HOW DARE THEY. ALL OF THEM. YOU'VE DONE SO MUCH FOR THEM, FOR THE BASTION. ALL THIS TIME, YOU HAVE BEEN THE ONLY ONE HOLDING IT ALL TOGETHER. THIS GODSFORSAKEN PLACE WOULD HAVE WILTED, BURNED AND DIED OR OTHERWISE BEEN REDUCED TO A BUNCH OF BABBLING BRUTISH BUFFOONS HAD YOU NOT BEEN THERE TO ENLIGHTEN THEM. DO THEY NOT SEE? DO THEY NOT SEE ALL YOU HAVE DONE FOR THEM??? Your head is splitting. Your face is wet. Everything hurts. So. Fucking. Much. Fuck this. Fuck them. Fuck the Bastion. Fuck all of it. You're done playing by their rules. You tried so, so hard to show them. You stuck to their archaic leadership structure, you tried their naïve attempt at 'democracy'. So many times, they tried to reject Your message. No longer. You're done playing by their rules which seek to reject Your word. You stand up. Your head pounds. You hit the floor. ---- -̵̭̭̔̓-̷̟͇̊͝:̸̖͆-̴͙̽-̶̺̿ It hurts. The husk is still gone. The blood trail remains. Your head pounds. You stand up. You fall. You decide to compromise with your concussed body. You crawl towards the door. It's dark. The moon is hidden. Everything looks red. It's probably the blood. You gracefully fall down the steps of the infirmary. Nobody notices. Nobody cares. They will care. The fresh air helps. It doesn't smell of blood as badly. Your head pounds a little less. You stand up. Your head has its vengeance. You push on. You see red. Red everywhere. Red on the ground. It leads you to the forest. You follow, You shamble. It calls you forward, like Ariadne's thread. Who's Ariadne? You don't know. You don't care. Nothing makes sense. Nothing but blood. You go in a circle. The thread leads you through the woods and back. It hurts so much. More blood. More pain. Your vision doesn't make sense. There's edges where there shouldn't be. The blood calls, beckons. You answer. Trees. Dirt. The stench of rot comes from a patch of ground in front of you, from everywhere, from inside you. No more blood. It's all here in front of you. You claw at the ground. No shovel in sight, It doesn't matter. Nothing matters but you. Your life. Your Word. Dirt flies everywhere, all over your face. You dig. Dig. Dig. You smell rot. You see more blood. Bone. Leather. Metal. There it is. You claw at it, rip it out from its grasp. It doesn't need it anymore. Nobody does but you. Nobody but you. You pull back the slide and slip out the magazine like Raindrop showed. You wonder where she is. You stop yourself. It doesn't matter. She doesn't matter. Empty. Nothing. It lied. No bullets. You stand up. You fall. ---- h̵̤̬͉͔̏͑̊̈́ẽ̴̗̣̠̠̃̈́̀̑̅l̵̽̍̊̑̌͜p̶̮̳̭̀̃:̶̰̰̹̥̇̒͊̿͒̍̌͆m̴̼͙̳͉͇͉̰͊͌̍e̶̡̛͉͍̮̓̅͌̋ it hurts so much it pounds it aches your eyes don't see yet you still move move towards the light towards the fences you used to call home to the bastion there must be some there someone must have some some ammunition something to put your will your anger into something to show them how wrong how ungrateful they have been they will pay they will all pay for this you think where it could be you can't you move on pure instinct towards the storerooms everyone is asleep there's no guards to guard it anymore no priests or no deluded maniacs blessing metal like some archaic ritual you walk you fall you pick yourself up you fall again and again and again and every time it hurts more and every time it gets darker and you can't fucking take it anymore it hurts so bad you crawl with what strength you have and push the doors open once twice three times it doesn't move you let out a cry and shove with all your might and it moves and you slither in like a viper missing its tail and its head and its ribs and everything but pure rage and hate you pick yourself up inch by inch to the boxes where a few rounds lie like gold for you they will pay for what they did with trembling hands you slot them into your magazine the slide pulled back glistens in what light there is a holy sword for you against the infidels your enemies you slide it into your blazer safe against your chest a lifeline as you step outside again and you fall ---- some time ago Jzf cpxpxmpc l etxp, wzyr lrz mj yzh. Jzf depaapo alde esp qpynpd, fyopc esp mzwwlco, esp wzyr czlo mlnv ez Oty Elwty mpstyo jzf. Wzed zq apzawp, wzed zq xpy htes rfyd lyo xtwtelcj fytqzcxd rcppepo jzf. Jzf hzfwoy'e dpp xlyj zq espx qzc wzyr. Zyp rcppepo jzf, l slyodzxp-wzzvtyr xly htes nczaapo mczhy sltc, dtryd zq l mplco nzxtyr ty lyo l ctyr zy std qtyrpc. Sp hlgpd lyo rcpped jzf. Nsctd C. Wtynzwy. Esle'd std ylxp. Sp wzzvpo dz xfns jzfyrpc, mctrsepc mlnv espy. L xly hzcy mj hlc, jpd, mfe zyp htes vtyoypdd jpe ty std splce. Szh etxp hzfwo pczop stx. Sp hlgpd jzf tydtop lyo spwad jzf qtww zfe jzfc qzcx. Szxp. Estd awlnp nzfwo mp szxp, jzf estyv. Sp dppxd pwlepo ez splc zq jzfc dvtwwd ld l eplnspc. Lwhljd laacpntletgp zq esle, sp hld. Yz topl zq jzfc awlyd, jzfc fwetxlep rzlw. Xljmp, ty lyzespc wtqp, le l otqqpcpye etxp, jzf nzfwo slgp mppy qctpyod. Nzfwo jzf? Jzf dfaazdp te ozpdy'e xleepc. Yzestyr xleepcd. Yzestyr pinpae qzc jzf. {[]}{{tag>writeup6 gm_alyssa complete}}