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1x1 RP
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Kim and P!ATWD 1x1 RP Folder Thing... *frying brain sounds*
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((LOL, you are so sweet. I want to read it!
I am having a hard time keeping up with multiple groups and am leaving groups that I can not be active in. I have a private group that is basically my author group. Would you be willing to allow me to copy and paste our roleplay into a thread there and continue there?))
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XD yeah, okay... here we go... I'm seriously cutting this from 6 pages to 4 on a google doc.... XD
Seriously though, I'm just glad that you're committed to all of your groups and rp especially this one because, honestly, sometimes I fall flat. like, the following is going to be a perfect example of such because I don't have time to completely redo it, and it is definitely not my best Writing, seeing as how my penmanship has evolved... -\('-')/-))
It was an odd thing, what words could set into motion.
Surely, Ash had expected Kim to turn away blindly, deftly, letting his words die out with little meaning in them, though he meant them in all sincerity. He would have killed that child, followed Crow into a void of unknown depths- an endless pit of suffering and despair- and all for what?
Truthfully, he could not think of a single plausible answer, though he knew it had something to do with the static areas of grey in the back of his head- the space he couldn't venture even though the events had only happened a short moment ago:
One moment, he had been thinking his way through Crow's demonic game of chess- two serpents ensnaring him- and the next...
The next he was holding a screaming baby, a sword of light and decay, and watching, through unseeing eyes, unable to move, as he was impaled by a blade one shade purer than the freshest of snowfall. Kim's balde.
He wondered now, with a hollow ache resounding throughout his entire body, stemming from his left shoulder- somewhere very near his heart- why he had not fought back. He had been glued to the spot, there but not quite in control, though he knew not what exactly had been in control.
Only that it had taken pleasure at his fall.
But why?
It had been chained down for so long, buried deep beneath years of pain and other's values, that Ash had thought it gone- the monster that lurked within- the thing he had been brought forth to harbor. Yet Crow had been able to coax it forth with hardly any insight at all, saying things that Ash couldn't quite remember, though he remembered feeling trapped, nearly tortured, pinned to his past like a butterfly to a board: struggling to free itself in the present. Something Crow had said was like a key, unshackling the beast, letting loose the butterfly, and in that instance Ash only remembered that he had an odd middle name which ought to mean more- that he ought to embrace what it meant: Lord of darkness; prince of Hell.
But to him, it was given as a choice.
A choice between what is dark and what is light; what is he, and what is something else entirely.
Something cold, merciless, bloodthirsty...
Vengeful.
Something that had more power than the deadliest of Ash's weapons, than the promises of Crow's words, than the bitter control of the nephilim. It had promised freedom, a quick release, and Ash felt, rather than knew, that he had gone peacefully into the arms of death when, at last, that dark and bitter void had writhed its way to freedom. Snippets of memory hit him- events that had happened within the last few hours- incomplete in their entirety, like pictures without a single subject to be seen within- just a blur of color or the hint of some oblong shape.
He felt no connection between the person he had been, and the person he was now.
It was if Kim's blade had simply brought him back, banished the darkness into that little grey area of static that he wasn't allowed to enter, but he knew that something else had changed- something important- the way you sometimes feel when walking into a familiar room only to find that something had been moved, though precisely what had been altered evaded the naked eye. All in all, the feeling left him groggy, light headed, seeing a clear view of frosted glass: like he wasn't meant to know.
And for some reason, Ash was okay with that.
For some reason, it felt like a small price to pay for what he had done; what he couldn't remember doing.
Closing his eyes, he tried to push through the grey, through the blurred lines and fuzzy static, but nothing would come forth. Nothing but black, and a sick, churning feeling in the pit of his stomach which told him he wasn't allowed to look; that he wasn't allowed to know.
He dove deeper.
For some reason, he didn't enjoy playing the tool in something else's garden shed when the earth he stood on was his own.
Slowly, he leaned into the static- searching for something more:
The cold glow of tempered adamis, glinting like steel, zoomed in to a point that was nearly sickening- that allowed a germ's eye veiw of the blade's serrated edge, like pointed glass in silver moonlight that stretched out across the horizon in an infinite arc.
A whispered name.
A hot flash of lightning, white light, heavenly bliss, a faint dizziness in the buzzing and confusion of the germ's eye; somewhere deep in its brain. The glass was lit like kindling, the blade became a wire: alive and pulsing with heavenly energy. The hand on the hilt was steady, used to the sudden explosion of life, feeding forth a warrior's energy into the blaze, lighting it further, asking it to grow, asking it to change.
The blade vibrated, hummed, shifting violently, wielded expertly, before something changed.
The energy changed.
The hand grew steely and cold, brutal- inhuman.
The glass buzzed, the light faded, the energy attempted a quick and dire escape toward its bringer of life- its bringer of light- only to be pushed back forth with an even more furious need, the hand having never changed but the purpose within having altered completely.
A shift in pressure, a changing of need.
A new and unrelenting force: dark, yet bitter sweet, nearly acrid in taste.
The blade cracked, the light shattered, and fire welled up from within, hot and roaring, turning the atamis to ash that crumbled away like dessert sand.
Something shrieked.
The static pushed back, furiously, and the image was gone, leaving a sick, nauseous feeling behind: one that left Ash's eyes closed and head throbbing, spinning as he took in slow, deep breaths of iron, crimson oxygen, liquid air: akin to lying on one's back with a bloodied nose, only- somehow- their nose wasn't bleeding...
Instead, it was a rapidly healing hole in their chest that they barely remember the cause of.
Hazy memories.
Dull pain.
Distorted reality.
To Ash, it seemed as if reality was at the end of a very long tunnel, stretching away from him, growing further off as he struggled to reach it; to become a part of it again.
Slowly, carefully, he opened his eyes once again; stared up at the midnight sky, the cracked cement, the dark water stains, the spiders and cobwebs.
"Ash..."
The voice was far off, somewhere in that tunnel where every living thing was sucked into a dark oblivion of painless misery. It echoed through his skull, bouncing around painfully, soothingly, familiar and strange all at once.
Another deep breath; another rush of crimson.
Another winded cough.
"Those that love you already forgave you."
Still far off, somewhere in the dark:
Somewhere in the room.
"You're not what any say, but what you choose."
Slowly, Ash pulled himself to his feet, feeling the world shift beneath him. Metal cleats skidded briefly on uneven stone, leaving shallow scars behind.
The sound nearly made him smile.
Charlotte would have screamed to high heaven at the state of her wood floors.
The massive oak doors.
The empty rooms.
The tidy kitchen.
All of it seemed incredibly far away to Ash, even though he had only left moments ago.
He had been so ready to throw it all away.
And for what?
Steadying himself, Ash looked at the girl before him, the child she clung to, and realized, as if for the first time, that he hardly knew her at all. Yet, somehow, it felt as though she had haunted him forever, radiating light and forgiveness even in the face of total disaster. Willing to forgive what most would find difficult to look beyond.
He saw her tremble, watched the energy slip from behind her eyes, but still the image of a warrior remained, of blinding light and feathers as white as snow, a flurry of compassion. A sword of light. A blade of dark.
She pulled the child closer, even as her strength threatened to dissolve and, in that moment, Ash knew Kim for what she was:
A savior.
A bringer of hope and forgiveness. Of vengeance and merciless right.
Of light.
Something dark longed to tear the image appart; Ash shoved it away, too tired to pay its static whispers any heed.
He took a breath, wiping the gore from his face with his left arm, testing the newly mended flesh.
No pain.
He let out a sigh.
"I chose not what they said," he replied, slowly, calculatively, "but what they said I could never be..."
He laughed, a shakey breath of humorless air that shook his head in a display of hopelessness and shallow disbelief, "And still... I failed."
He spoke of the mission as a whole, of the events he was slowly starting to gather, one hazy memory at a time.
"There's nothing left to fight for anymore when what you've fought about has already come to pass... Otherwise all of the world would be caught within the throes of perpetual warfare and greed, tearing itself apart and creating greater destruction than that which they had hoped to avoid in the first place. Yet I dare threaten to continue a battle with only one soldier. One soldier against himself, some force that a million men have tried to beat but have failed to put down. He grows weary... As any would. Though, Charlotte is not going to be happy with that excuse I'm afraid," he admitted, trying to regain his usual nonchalant exterior, reaching for something familiar, "After all, it's well past time for dinner, I've managed to destroy a few weapons, I nearly assisted a manic demon whom is- by default- a sworn enemy of all nephilim, I fully intended to kill a mundane child, and... well, the list goes on really. Alongside all of that, I'm sure she'll add that I've also imposed years of misfortune upon those that care for me all for naught but... who knows? I'm sure we can all compare notes later. First, however, we need to make it out of here."
He glanced around the room, at the broken bodies and grotesque throne, feeling the familiar weight of his wings taking their place once again, draining his exhaustion as they stretched out behind him, longing for open air, glimpsing a hidden passageway, a hint of what lie within, no doubt the way Kim had made her early arrival.
Bodies stretched across the floor, leading to the passage, disappearing into it hallow depths. Ash blinked.
"And this time," Ash suggested, looking to Kim for confirmation, unwilling to leave her behind, "we're both taking the window."
He gauged her reaction, watching Kim struggle with consciousness, clinging to it and yet slipping ever so haltingly into oblivion: a place where, should she fall, open arms and ebony wings would carry her skyward once again.
((*nervous sigh*
It just... I hope it's okay. XD
I haven't posted in so long, and... idk XD
I don't mind it being copied to another group, but I would like to continue it here, if that's alright with you. It's just that it's practically the only thing keeping this group alive for the moment, and there are still SO many things I would LOVE to be able to do with TWD that I haven't had the chance to do... and if it dies out... *sad thoughts* XD
it's okay if you'd still like to continue elsewhere though... I just... nostalgia i guess. XD
Just let me know what works best for you, and we'll figure something out for sure! *hugs* ^-^))
((I moved this over to the other group and will be leaving this group. Gonna send a DM as well. Also sending an invite to the private group so we can continue ^_^ Thank you for understanding and as always feel free to keep posting our posts here. I will post my last one for old time sake (-; ))
((Please don't speak about your writing this way! This... this breaks my heart, moves my soul, and seems perfect for a world-famous novel. You are so incredibly gifted as a writer. I have a published book, but you... you deserve series upon series with this skill of capturing emotions, I only hope I can learn from writing with you!))Time passed in a strange way. One second felt like hours. Her eyelids closed and she fell forward, indeed landing in a safe embrace of the dark-winged warrior. The Heroic Knight she felt in the core of her soul that he was.
Even in that short of a time she had plenty of opportunities to torture herself. For she found that a small part of her was happy, Happy they were all dead. So they couldn't hurt her anymore. That was the dark side. Yes, she chooses at that moment to favor the sword of light, to favor good over evil, but that dark sword did not come unbidden. It was born of the darker part of herself. The one that wished she had been the one to kill the people Crow did. Grateful for the favor or getting revenge for her, but also hated him for stealing it from her. Wanting to slaughter him as brutally as possible.
This was why she knew she was evil to the core. It wasn't possible for 'bitter' and 'sweet' water to come from the same source. How could she? A vessel, full of contradiction and duality. Good and Evil in one shell? No, she was evil. Just trying to fool the world into thinking she was good. At least that's what she told herself.
In truth, it was just the pain, the hatred of injustice and cruelty, but more than all of that. The lack of empathy. That was what she hatted, not people, well, except maybe herself. She did have such deep self-loathing. Could she ever see anything good about her, when it had been drilled into her from infancy that she was disgusting, evil, undeserving? Perhaps she and Ash had more in common than either truly realized.
Yet despite her own pain and misery. She still loved, she preferred animals, but she cared. She hatted to see others suffer, and wanted to help any way she could. She was afraid. Lonely and hurting. So deeply, was she hurting. She saw the world the opposite of the way she saw herself. What an Oxymoron of a person...
All of this passed through her mind and heart, in the time it took her to reach his arms. Never dropping the baby, still having some sort of strength to shield this innocent in her arms, maybe she could do at least, one thing right, or perhaps two...
With that, she knew no more.
Loss, betrayal and the end of a friendship))