Angels and Odium
It was all noise. A white blanket of strychnine, laced with cosmic revelry.
Idryll: "Submit!"
Mist: "Don't give in!"
Annwen: "Where are the keys?"
Abelina: "It's a promise, then."
Uma Pencile: "There, there. It's okay to scream..."
???: "Get up." Chamas shook himself, but his eyes wouldn't open. They were swollen shut from the beatings, his legs weak from the radiation sickness. A coward's ploy... The only way Dr. Pencile had found to keep Odium contained. It left him floating, stuck between the next moment and the last, each passing like a dream -- like it was happening to someone else. ???: "Get up."
Chamas: "Can't." His voice sounded like gravel, his throat too dry to properly speak. He tried to move his legs, and nothing changed. His arms were numb from the shoulders down, chained up above his head. Even Chamas' head stayed low, his neck not strong enough to lift it. Whatever they wanted, they'd have to carry him. ???: "Pathetic."
Chamas: "F- F-ck. Y--" He couldn't form the words, so he spit instead. A massive glob of phlegm and blood, which sailed somewhere unseen. He would have loved to see it hit. ???: "Still some spirit. But you're broken. I'd give you... A few more days? I could take you now, if you wanted." The casual nature of those words... Something wasn't right. Was it Project 9? Or another trick? Chamas: "Who?"
???: "An angel. A friend of Odium." Chamas perked up at that -- he'd kept the name of his ability secret. Even Idryll had failed to pull it from him. Through the fog, Chamas searched the visions that haunted him... The ones he had tried to ignore. They were there, in great mass, surrounded by the thoughts he'd kept hidden. The memories that had to stay away, or he would lose it all. The thoughts that would drive him insane. But he couldn't stay here. He had to take risks, or his friends were going to die. So he pressed, letting Odium help him, until he pulled the memory he needed. A vision of the Dreamer, and of Carrot. Chamas: "Man-ar--" Mandarb chuckled. Chamas tried to punch him, but nothing moved. Mandarb: "That's me... I've come to help you through the Doors. In return, you tell me what I want to know." The Doors of Death... Chamas filtered the thought through a fog. There had been so much pain. To sleep was a blessing. To sleep forever... A sweetness. A gift beyond compare. Odium roared, a thundercloud that broke up the fog, and provided cursed clarity. The work was far from over. Chamas: "No. Nnn. For-ive--"
Mandarb: "Forgiveness? No... I don't do that. I'm not that kind of angel." Chamas growled between breaths. If only he could speak. But his broken teeth were like razors, and his lips were cracked and scarred. And his antennas... Best not think of them. Chamas: "N- No. For-- Iv-ness. F- Fr- Ee." There was a long pause. For a moment, Chamas thought the angel had left. Then a low whisper, laden with the weight of its meaning. Mandarb: "Not death, then... But freedom? Information for your release?"
Chamas: "Y- Ye-- Yes."
Mandarb: "I'm not a miracle worker."
Chamas: "Y--"
Mandarb: "There will be pain."
Chamas: "Knn-- Know."
Mandarb: "Are you sure?" Throughout the age that had been his imprisonment, Chamas had been asked countless questions. About the Ruby Keys, the whereabouts of the Dream Team, Ezorod, and Abelina. He hadn't told them a fucking thing. For the first time in months, this was a question he could answer. Chamas: "Yes." A pyschic presence stabbed into his brain. It was nothing like Annwen's interrogations, or Idryll's knives... This was like an armor-piercing round fired at point-blank range, ripping through his secrets. He saw each one as Mandarb filtered through them. The good, and the bad. Mom and Annwen, playing on the swings. Idryll and Chamas racing on the monkey bars.
Dad was beating Mom again, barely standing on his drunken legs. Chamas hid them in the closet, and watched through the keyhole.
Mom's lifeless eyes as he buried her...
Dad started beating Idryll again. The way he was looking at Annwen. He couldn't stop it. No one could. Not anymore...
Dad sold Idryll. He was too late. No. It wasn't too late for Annwen.
The carving knife, buried into his father's skull. His first kill. The first of many.
Hush, standing over a prison for angels, deep below the Hamisfore Theatorium. The psychic presence left him, but Chamas kept screaming. He'd pulled his arms from the wall, and concrete dust was thick in the air. He stood, high off his madness, drunk on Odium. It was too late for Idryll... They'd made him all wrong -- raised him to be a monster. He couldn't be saved. But Annwen could... He just needed to get her away from here. This place was making them both sick. Chamas clawed out into the darkness, grabbing for the angel, but he was nowhere to be found. Instead, his bloodsoaked hands landed on something soft... Thin and weightless, with a hard spine in the middle. A feather. Strength flooded Chamas' spirit. Blood flourished, and bone reknit. It was like a fire had been lit inside him, but he didn't shy away from it. He ate it, letting Odium consume it all, until his skin was as black as ebony, and his eyes as white as snow. Deep in the bowels of the 7th Ward, the prisoners of Project 9 woke to a howling laugh, and the sound of crumbling stone...
Mist: "Don't give in!"
Annwen: "Where are the keys?"
Abelina: "It's a promise, then."
Uma Pencile: "There, there. It's okay to scream..."
???: "Get up." Chamas shook himself, but his eyes wouldn't open. They were swollen shut from the beatings, his legs weak from the radiation sickness. A coward's ploy... The only way Dr. Pencile had found to keep Odium contained. It left him floating, stuck between the next moment and the last, each passing like a dream -- like it was happening to someone else. ???: "Get up."
Chamas: "Can't." His voice sounded like gravel, his throat too dry to properly speak. He tried to move his legs, and nothing changed. His arms were numb from the shoulders down, chained up above his head. Even Chamas' head stayed low, his neck not strong enough to lift it. Whatever they wanted, they'd have to carry him. ???: "Pathetic."
Chamas: "F- F-ck. Y--" He couldn't form the words, so he spit instead. A massive glob of phlegm and blood, which sailed somewhere unseen. He would have loved to see it hit. ???: "Still some spirit. But you're broken. I'd give you... A few more days? I could take you now, if you wanted." The casual nature of those words... Something wasn't right. Was it Project 9? Or another trick? Chamas: "Who?"
???: "An angel. A friend of Odium." Chamas perked up at that -- he'd kept the name of his ability secret. Even Idryll had failed to pull it from him. Through the fog, Chamas searched the visions that haunted him... The ones he had tried to ignore. They were there, in great mass, surrounded by the thoughts he'd kept hidden. The memories that had to stay away, or he would lose it all. The thoughts that would drive him insane. But he couldn't stay here. He had to take risks, or his friends were going to die. So he pressed, letting Odium help him, until he pulled the memory he needed. A vision of the Dreamer, and of Carrot. Chamas: "Man-ar--" Mandarb chuckled. Chamas tried to punch him, but nothing moved. Mandarb: "That's me... I've come to help you through the Doors. In return, you tell me what I want to know." The Doors of Death... Chamas filtered the thought through a fog. There had been so much pain. To sleep was a blessing. To sleep forever... A sweetness. A gift beyond compare. Odium roared, a thundercloud that broke up the fog, and provided cursed clarity. The work was far from over. Chamas: "No. Nnn. For-ive--"
Mandarb: "Forgiveness? No... I don't do that. I'm not that kind of angel." Chamas growled between breaths. If only he could speak. But his broken teeth were like razors, and his lips were cracked and scarred. And his antennas... Best not think of them. Chamas: "N- No. For-- Iv-ness. F- Fr- Ee." There was a long pause. For a moment, Chamas thought the angel had left. Then a low whisper, laden with the weight of its meaning. Mandarb: "Not death, then... But freedom? Information for your release?"
Chamas: "Y- Ye-- Yes."
Mandarb: "I'm not a miracle worker."
Chamas: "Y--"
Mandarb: "There will be pain."
Chamas: "Knn-- Know."
Mandarb: "Are you sure?" Throughout the age that had been his imprisonment, Chamas had been asked countless questions. About the Ruby Keys, the whereabouts of the Dream Team, Ezorod, and Abelina. He hadn't told them a fucking thing. For the first time in months, this was a question he could answer. Chamas: "Yes." A pyschic presence stabbed into his brain. It was nothing like Annwen's interrogations, or Idryll's knives... This was like an armor-piercing round fired at point-blank range, ripping through his secrets. He saw each one as Mandarb filtered through them. The good, and the bad. Mom and Annwen, playing on the swings. Idryll and Chamas racing on the monkey bars.
Dad was beating Mom again, barely standing on his drunken legs. Chamas hid them in the closet, and watched through the keyhole.
Mom's lifeless eyes as he buried her...
Dad started beating Idryll again. The way he was looking at Annwen. He couldn't stop it. No one could. Not anymore...
Dad sold Idryll. He was too late. No. It wasn't too late for Annwen.
The carving knife, buried into his father's skull. His first kill. The first of many.
Hush, standing over a prison for angels, deep below the Hamisfore Theatorium. The psychic presence left him, but Chamas kept screaming. He'd pulled his arms from the wall, and concrete dust was thick in the air. He stood, high off his madness, drunk on Odium. It was too late for Idryll... They'd made him all wrong -- raised him to be a monster. He couldn't be saved. But Annwen could... He just needed to get her away from here. This place was making them both sick. Chamas clawed out into the darkness, grabbing for the angel, but he was nowhere to be found. Instead, his bloodsoaked hands landed on something soft... Thin and weightless, with a hard spine in the middle. A feather. Strength flooded Chamas' spirit. Blood flourished, and bone reknit. It was like a fire had been lit inside him, but he didn't shy away from it. He ate it, letting Odium consume it all, until his skin was as black as ebony, and his eyes as white as snow. Deep in the bowels of the 7th Ward, the prisoners of Project 9 woke to a howling laugh, and the sound of crumbling stone...
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