cambox | shit bro i just wanted au shit

[It's been a week since he helped kill Moro, five days since he's returned home from the draft, and three days since he woke up.

Silver's still exhausted. The Vaskoth draft took its physical and emotional toll. But despite that, he's found himself restlessly wandering into the forest; he wants- no, needs- answers about the strange mark that's moved from his wrists to well over his shoulders. More than that, the uncertainty of what's going to happen, the fact that he gets stronger and more savage when his anger spikes, that pain shoots through his body whenever he's too uncertain or uneasy or frustrated-

He rubs his shoulders and lets Murkrow rest on his shoulders as he wanders through the forest and tries to focus on the sounds of life that fill the air and feel so far away from him.]

[Moro has returned to Luceti after death, weak and miserable. Free of her curse, but not of the shame.

The wound in her chest is now not the only poorly healed wound. There are punctures from many other wounds from the fight that the others put up against her. Including wounds in her head... missing eyes. Her curse was to have none of these properly healed, and as such, she is weaker.

She's found a place to lay down, tired and ashamed, away from most people.]

[There's a tuft of white in the distance. Silver's legs move before he really thinks to go investigate what it is, then move back again when he gets a sight of what looks more like her corpse than someone living and breathing.]

Are you alive? [His voice is nervous and unsteady, as if he's not sure he wants the answer.]

[There's a long pause, before she finally moves from absolute stillness. Her nose moves, sniffing.]

Boy.

...You really are alive.

[And not a demon, and not killing people, and not in that awful, terrible place. Alive. Maybe not alive and well, but one step at a time.]

I am, Silver. Though I should not be.

...Yeah. I know.

[No one's supposed to come back after something like that. Moro's still in terrible condition.

...But at the same time, he's grateful that everyone got a second chance...]

You smell rotten. Like I once did.

[...He brushes a finger on Murkrow's beak briefly before responding. He smells... Rotten. Is that it?]

Some strange mark showed up on me when we fought you. [He swallows harshly after that sentence. Fought? No, no. Killed. Slaughtered her for the sake of their survival. ...No. That wasn't even her anymore.] It's spread up my arms and past my shoulders. I can see the same thing between Murkrow's feathers.

[And that's the reason why Murkrow's the only one with him today. He didn't want to be around Sneasel and Feraligatr. Not like this. Not right now. Not until he knows how to deal with it.

The bird is tired and angry and growing stronger yet weaker, and he rests his weight on Silver's head.]

The demon curse. You touched my body, when I was lost...

Murkrow helped stop you and got consumed. I had to pull him out.

[The demon curse. The curse that feeds off of your negative emotions and consumes you...

...Did Moro ever tell him a way to cure it?]

You will suffer, and you will die.

[...That was direct. And faster than he expected.

But the reality of death doesn't quite register. Not after all that death he saw in front of him. Not right now.]

Isn't there any way to stop it?

There is a tall cliff nearby to leap from.

[...No. That's the last thing he wanted to hear.]

I don't want to die. I don't want Murkrow to die.

[There has to be something. ...Right?]

There is no cure for it. The Forest Spirit does not exist in this hell to forgive our weaknesses, our disgusting forms.

[...He's going to die, and there's nothing he can do it.

Murkrow is going to die, and there's still nothing he can do about it.

The aching in his arms becomes distinctly more sharp and painful, and it's something of a miracle that he doesn't cringe long enough to see Murkrow attempt to fly into Moro's face in retaliation. He barely grabs onto one of his livid bird's legs, and Murkrow wastes no time in clawing at Silver's arm with his free talons to try to get free.]

Hey. Stop. [He's scared too. Don't do this.]

[Moro's ears perk up, as she hears the flapping of the bird. Her teeth bare. Come on, then, if you want to strike her then do it swiftly - she'll devour you! A deep, angry growl rumbles from her chest.]

Your death would be surer and swifter in my jaws.

[Murkrow attempts to lunge at Moro again, to get some fleeting retribution, to try and peck or slash at her as if that would somehow change the fact that he and his trainer's fates are sealed. Silver yanks him back and hugs him as tightly as he can, ignoring his clawing and squirming in favor of feeling fear sink straight into the pit of his stomach.]

No. [He's not sure if that's really in response to Moro's statement or his inevitable death. Will he come back without the curse when he dies, like Moro did? Will Murkrow return to him? If he doesn't, will he still be waiting at home?

...Home.

That's where he wants to be right now.

Anywhere but here.

Begging on the streets, sheltering himself from harsh freezing winds with nothing but tiny abandonded shacks that invite the cold more than they repel it, the ever looming danger of one day finding himself in a jail cell, in front of his father and being the only one that can stop him.

Anywhere.

Not here.]

[Moro's growl softens, though her voice is no less bitter.]

Your state is my greatest shame. You will suffer, and you will die. If you seek to end it all, then it is my duty to kill you.

I do not get to return to death until I have seen through the redemption of my sins.

[...He doesn't want to die. He definitely doesn't want to die.

But there's something he needs to know.]

Will I hurt anyone before I die? [There's something more important than what he wants.]

Your rage may seize you and your newfound strength will slaughter that which angers you. You are a blight. Your despair may seize you, and the pain will make it consume you.

[...If he's left alive, he'll end up hurting other people. If he dies, he should come back like Moro- free of the stupid curse that's spreading across his body.]

Then do it. [To him... But not to Murkrow. He recalls his bird, tosses his Pokéball away from himself, and waits.]

[Moro stands, albeit slowly and weakly. There's a wafting scent of rotting wounds - incredibly different from the curse, but she's in no good shape.

She moves closer, nostrils flared to take in his scent before she clumsily bites at him.

Her jaws come down like a sledgehammer. There's amazing force, the teeth slice straight through... like scissors through paper.]

[He smells her wounds as she approaches well before he looks up at her and sees them. He feels the curse marks he has burning in protest to his current situation, to his helplessness, to his fear.

He wishes more than anything that he could have done something more, hopes that Murkrow will turn out okay, resolves to find some way to fix his bird when he's no longer at risk of losing himself, and that's the last thing he gets to think before he's snapped in half by Moro's jaws.

When he returns the next week, the curse is still on his arms, although it's receded to the size it first was when he first got it. Sneasel and Feraligatr went out to find him and ended up finding Murkrow's ball- Murkrow had the curse completely spread over him and kill him in his ball before he returned.

Another week passes. And another. The reality that the curse will continue spreading no matter what he does sinks in. The fact that his cherished partner is never returning to him, no matter how hard he looks or hopes for him to come back.

By the end of the month, the curse spreads and consumes him, and he has to find some secluded place in the mountains and thrust his knife in his own chest for fear of hurting someone around him. It doesn't kill him immediately, and he slowly bleeds out in fear of his own actions and future.

Which is why when he returns again- still not aware of his first penalty, nor his second- he resolves to shut out his emotions completely.]

[He's not entirely sure why he wanders into the woods, looking for Moro. He's not sure what it's supposed to accomplish. But he wanders around again- this time with his two remaining Pokémon- and idly pets the two of them to try and settle their worries as the three of them continue exploring.]

[Moro's punishment was that her wounds would not heal. She is weak, she is ill, and she is only given a boost of strength when she is drafted. But perhaps it wasn't a good idea for a death penalty, as it's ruining her. She is too tired to run, too weak to pursue prey for miles, too soaked in the scent of rot to stalk up to animals.

So when Silver finds her, she's in miserable shape. Her wounds are just as open and raw, her body much more emaciated than it ever was before. People had commented about how hurt and sad that Moro looked, but their description and reaction couldn't even compare to how pitiful she truly looked. So starved that her fur was falling out in patches, she looked so bony and thin, her teeth were falling out... she's headed for death again, and she's in no shape to threaten anyone the way she once would. She's collapsed in some water, only fortunate that her head landed on a rock that she didn't immediately drown.

When he finds her, she looks like she's already dead. Her legs are splayed out in an unnatural mode, her mouth slightly agape. Coupled with the sorry state of her condition... most animals are pretty bold to simply sip at the water from the lake.]

[...She's dying. Those wounds still haven't closed?

Silver walks over to her slowly... Then strokes her nose gently. He's not afraid anymore. If Moro decides to snap him in half again, that's fine.

If not, he wants to comfort her, if only a little.]

[There's a small, weak jolt of surprise, as she seems to wake up suddenly. But it's such a weak, tired movement... she closes her jaw and slowly scoots to try and move her legs to look less humiliated. She's a god, she can't look so pitiful...

She slowly, with great labor, inhales. That scent...]

Boy... Silver...

[Her voice is small. So tired. She doesn't speak with a pitiful tone, but her state makes her so much smaller than she seemed before.]

Still smell of my shame...

It won't go away, no matter how many times I die.

[Unlike the last time they spoke, his tone is calm and level. He continues to pet Moro and takes care to avoid touching her injuries.]

What's happening to you?

Despite my will, my body is failing me. An agonizing death... a punishment I well deserve.

...No one deserves something like this.

[Not even Moro. Especially not Moro. She already had her agonizing death.]

For spreading the curse, for succumbing to becoming a demon and failing my duty. For failing to redeem myself and right my wrongs...

[Her lip curls, a faint growl, but she's no louder or tenser like she once would be. She has no strength to be so.]

...I should probably blame you. Be angry at you. If you didn't lose yourself, I wouldn't have this curse that's killing me over and over.

But being angry about it isn't going to stop me from being in pain. It won't keep me from dying.

Your pain doesn't have the power to make it go away either.

May I die so pitifully that they see fit to let me stay dead.

[There's anger in her tone, but more than anything... she sounds pleading. She's never once sounded pleading before, but it's there in her voice now. Silver is wrong, but she doesn't have the strength to be angry. She just wants to die. She wants to suffer, and hurt, and pay her dues... and she wants to never come back.]

[...Moro can't see it, but he nods in agreement- let death be death. No one deserves to keep dragging on like this.]

Is there anything I can do for you?

Yes.

[Her brows raise, and her ears weakly turn towards him. If she had eyes, they would be open and looking at him.]

You must never forgive me.

...I already have.

Do not. What I have done... I do not want to be forgiven. I do not want my sins to be accepted by anyone. They are a blight, a curse... just like the mark itself. I must not be allowed forgiveness for what happened.

...If I hold some kind of resentment towards you, it will consume me over and over again. If I let it go, it doesn't have as much power over me.

[In fact, he even pulls down one of his sleeves to look at it. Keeping calm's done wonders. This is the third time it's started to spread again, and by far the slowest...]

Edited 2014-09-22 08:17 (UTC)

I do not speak of your resentment. I speak of your forgiveness. Whether you hate me, or fight your curse by pretending to be indifferent... that is your fate.

I do not wish to be forgiven.

[He's not pretending anything. He's tired. Too tired to be angry or hateful of fearful.

At some point, those feelings will resurface. For now...]

I don't understand.

Do not deny my responsibility for what happened. Do not reflect on it and say that I was free of blame. Do not forgive me for it.

[She chuckles, sadly and weakly.]

You are such a stupid boy...

I won't deny it. [He shouldn't. He knows better than that. This feels familiar to him- someone deeply hurting him, regardless of their reasons- but he's not sure why.] But I won't keep holding it against you, even if that makes me stupid.

Do as you wish, then. As long as I am held properly accountable. That curse is my greatest shame.

[And she doesn't want it to be dismissed as something that's 'okay' or 'not her fault'. She doesn't want to be forgiven for it by anyone, even if her zombie infection was the cause. She upholds her duty above all else, even rational reasoning, so she is stubbornly determined to be the one at fault for the curse.]

shit bro i just wanted au shit

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