Labored Breaths (Vistra joins The Order)

VistraVistra Member Posts: 1
So, Omei came to Vistra about the Order and the RP was so good and intense that I knew I had to share.
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A pang of pain summons itself into existence square in the middle of your forehead that travels down to your temples in a faintly numbing way.

Vistra grunts, closing one eye and rubbing at her temple with one large hand.

Slowly but surely this needling pain inches itself down the length of your spine in a way
that brings about a weary sensation in your limbs as they begin to grow heavy.

Vistra tries to look around for a source, not unlike a startled animal, attempting to work her heavy, tired limbs into action. "Pit, what th' unicorns..."

You suddenly feel weary and tired.

Affliction: ASLEEP

Within a cozy bedroom (53805) - Space Realm (346)
Reality twists and contorts in slivers of fragment-like visions around the form of Omei, the Nightmare.

Omei releases a content sigh as She stares out the window before Her, the light of the moon sending a silhouette of Her frame skittering across the floor before you. At your arrival, She glances over Her shoulder to offer you a quick flash of a smile. "Ahh, you," She remarks before turning to resume Her gazing. "I was wondering when you would find Me."

Vistra grunts, rubbing at her face. It seems to take her a moment before she realizes just -who- is speaking to her, but even when she realizes it's clear she doesn't really know how to behave. So, she settles lamely for "Ah... sorry t' keep y' waitin', Nightmare."

Omei says nothing immediately, Her gaze set upon the looming moon that lies outside the
window of the cozy bedroom. Her head tilts to lean against the window's frame, Her posture
slackened and loose as She merely stares for a while. "What brings you here?" She finally
asks, breaking the silence.

Vistra moves forward, only a step. "Aisling told me of You 'n Yers. Facin' th' things that fear us, takin' action. I spent a long time in th' Carnifex runnin' from what scared me. 'm tired 'f doin' it." She scratches at her jaw. "Figured th' best way t' stop runnin' from fears is t' face 'em head on."

You say, "And that seems t' be somethin' You encourage."

Omei takes your words as a compliment, as evidenced by the slow grin that tears its way across Her lips. "And what is it that scares you?" the Nightmare questions with a beckoning tap upon the window next to Her.

Vistra swallows. "M' blood. I fear bein' my Pa's daughter, 'n th' corruption that runs through me from him. I fear givin' in to it, I fear not bein' strong enough t' beat it." She rolls her shoulders. "The idea that I can't be no good, no matter how hard I try scares th' fuckin' pit out've me."

"Impractical fears, you know?" Omei remarks with a clearing of Her throat as She spins to face you directly. "Those things merely take a spine, and some fortitude to defeat - corruption preys only upon the weak child, and you are not weak," She remarks as She steps towards the center of the room.

For a fleeting moment, you forget your name.

Vistra stands a bit straighter, almost at attention. "Suppose that's why it's so hard fer me t' dismiss. I can face beasts 'n Carnifex 'n undead. M' fists can hit those, and I ain't afraid t' shed blood t' do it, but I can't punch m' blood. I can't run from it." She keeps her gaze on the Goddess before her, tilting her head. "Well, suppose I could, but I wouldn't be any use t' anyone that way."

"Mm," is Omei's only thoughtful remark as Her gaze sweeps over your form, eyes narrowing as She considers you for a few quiet moments. Then, in a blur of motion, She's upon you - Her hands clasp tightly around your shoulders as She mightily grabs you and sends you careening towards the window at the northernmost section of the room. Everything seems to slow to a crawl as your head splinters the glass of the window, the tiny shards propelling themselves through the air around you in what practically appears to be slow motion. Slowly, ever so slowly, you feel the suffocating lack of air begin to grip your throat like a vice; your eyes strain and your veins bulge as your body fights for oxygen while you plummet through the window and into the abyss beyond.

You are transported by the power of the Divine.

Reality distorts before your very eyes as Omei manifests, Her arrival preceded by a series
of dreamlike figments and images that hang upon the air.

You find the weather around you imperceptible. You are consumed by the void that surrounds
you. Darkness envelops your immediate surroundings, no ground sits beneath your feet. You
are suspended in shadow, left with naught to discern your position whatsoever. Reality
twists and contorts in slivers of fragment-like visions around the form of Omei, the
Nightmare.

You are suffocating, but at an alarmingly slow rate as you find yourself slowly propelled away from the window and into the void. She follows, hovering fluidly through the air as if She swims through it to keep pace with you.

Vistra reaches instinctively to clasp at her throat, the feeling of suffocation alerting the basic instinct of survival in her.

"Tell Me, darling, will you succumb to your blood?" Omei queries as She dips this way and that, Her body contorting like an acrobat as She twirls through the void around you. A claw taps at Her temple as She adds, "Think your answers and I'll hear them - I'd suggest not opening your mouth here, lest you let out the bits of remaining air you've in your system." A violet energy seems to trail Her form that lingers brightly in the air behind Her in dazzling arrays of intricate patterns. "If you wish to succumb to your blood, I'll simply leave you here so you needn't worry about it," She rather nonchalantly remarks. "Deal with it now as opposed to later, yes?"

The pressure here is absolutely remarkable; it's as if an immense weight pushes inwards upon you from every single direction. Every limb feels the pain of this bizarre sensation.

N-no, I won't. I can't, won't let m'self. I'll fight 'til I see th' Halls, rather than fall t' my Pa's blood, t' th' Lady he served.

Omei watches you carefully as She dives down beneath you to slide fluidly around your body, Her claws dragging every now and then across your skin. "How do I know that?" She retorts. "You are helpless here as you will be against it when you face it - here you have both. Will you conquer?"

Vistra grips at her throat, the ethereal hand far more relaxed in its motion than her flesh one, the fist of that clenched.

Vistra makes an attempt to gain an idea of her surroundings, eyes clearly scanning for something, an out of the clearly deadly environment she's in, a lifeline.

Omei shifts so that She hovers directly overtop of you, Her piercing gaze staring straight down and onto your face as the starry depths of Her eyes scan yours for a sign of action. She tenderly draws a claw down the length of your cheek as She releases an almost nurturing, "Shh, there there." Her head dips so that Her lips are positioned just beside your left ear. "You've enough breath to say one thing here," She murmurs into your ear. "Your last words - make them good ones, make them filled with fervor and convincing enough for Me to believe you will not succumb."

Blackness blots at your vision as the lack of oxygen begins to take its toll. The world around you begins to slowly fade out of sight as you feel your limbs start to become unresponsive.

Vistra swallows, bright eyes shining with something, thought it's hard to tell if it's determination or terror. She releases her neck and opens her mouth. "'d rather storm th' Temple of Corruption itself than fall t' that unicorns. I'll fight 'n I'll win, 'r I'll ask y' to remove my head m'self. I'll take Chak 'erself down if You'd have it of me."

As those very words escape your lips your vision, simply, shuts down. Bleak blackness prevails as you feel your body grow dense and begin to plummet downwards, sinking slowly at first, then faster and faster. Though you barely cling to consciousness, you feel the strangest burning sensation upon the underside of your wrist along with the overwhelming thought of an imminent impact.

An unusually vivid dream swirls through your sleeping mind, and you have the distinct impression of movement.

Vistra draws in heavy gasps of air, hand curling into the grass below her.

Your body spasms as you awaken, the impending impact never quite hitting its mark - though the suffocating feeling still clings loosely at your throat as a chilling reminder of what'd just occurred. Upon your wrist is a mark that certainly wasn't there before you fell asleep.

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