Riful's Heart.

[dramatispersonae]

[everything goes away.]

[sight, sound, taste, touch, smell - you lose yourself to the nothing that waits through the doorway. do you have a body? a mind? what is such a thing? for a dizzying moment, you might not even be sure you have a "you" to identify these concepts with.]

[then, wrenching and violent, the confusion of the senses pummels itself back inside you like seasoning pounded into raw meat, and you're left, painfully sensate, on an open plain.]

Comments

[flourished]

[ GRAVITATES TOWARDS THE TREE. AFTER SHE FOLLOWED DRIFT. ]

[toolate]

[trees!!!!

... inspecting it to see if it (or the fruit) looks sickly or something before doing anything...]

[amivoringyou]

[the unnerving conviction that the tree resembles nothing so much as a woman driven headfirst into the ground, her legs all torn to desperate ribbons as they grasp for the sky, persists until you are very nearly on top of its nearest root. then it is just a tree, no matter how you look at it; but the impression lingers.]

[the fruit that hangs from its branches is soft, spiky, and pale in color, bruising towards reddish black at the tips; it looks juicy and ripe.]

[one of the roots on the other side of the tree doesn't look like a root. it looks like it might be a poor attempt by a foot to disguise itself as a root.]

[flourished]

[ . . . reaches to touch the fruit but get distracted by that foot and goes to touch that instead :x ]

[amivoringyou]

[that foot connects to a body ... specifically, that of a man in a black fedora and opaque, dark glasses, clad head to toe in black, from his turtleneck to his shoes, calmly lounging under the tree, book open in one hand and fruit from the tree resting under the palm of the other.]

[he looks down at you as you reach for his foot, and smiles.]

Well. Isn't this a surprise.

[toolate]

[well i'm picking the fruit, glancing at the direction of the voice, though]

Is there someone else there?

[flourished]

Hi. Who are you?

[ calls back to Drift ]

There's a man here.

[amivoringyou]

[inclining his head] I'm a "man" ... yes, perhaps that's the best way to put it.

Call me Louvre.

[toolate]

[taking the fruit and coming over]

What are you here for....?

[flourished]

Maybe not a man then. But someone else.

[amivoringyou]

No, I assure you, everything works just fine.

... here for? I thought I'd get some air. This place gets so stifling in the winter.

[.... winter ...?]

[he stands, closing his book and picking up his own fruit, tossing it gently in the air - then tossing it to Aeris.]

Catch. It's good for you ... or so I hear, anyway.

[toolate]

What is this place, exactly?

[other than, you know. a heart.]

[flourished]

[ catches the fruit . . . examines it and debates eating it. ]

[amivoringyou]

This? It's a base of operations.

[that's totally a non-answer.]

What kind of "operations" ... well. I'm just a handler, I wouldn't know anything about all that.

[toolate]

If you handle the operations, shouldn't you know what they are?

[flourished]

[ tries the fruit . . . ]

[amivoringyou]

[the fruit's skin is rough against the palate, but easy to bite through. the first bite tastes sweet; the second carries a sharp aftertaste. it's delicious and refreshing at first, but ...]

[CONGRATULATIONS, YOU ARE NOW IN EXCRUCIATING PAIN, centered mostly around your guts and groin. hope you like the feeling, it's going to last a few minutes.]

[flourished]

[ OK I GUESS THERE IS DROPPING TO MY KNEES AND SCREAMING and stuff and yay. . . ]

[toolate]

[UM WELL THAT IS WORRYING looking back at the dude????]

Hey-- What did you tell us to eat?!

[amivoringyou]

[Louvre has gone back to reading his book, one hand stuck in a pocket, a faint smile on his face.]

[meanwhile, in Aerisland ...]

[the pain fades slowly, but not fast enough - you appear to have more senses than you did a moment ago, and they amplify the feeling of something digging around inside you, mole-like and angry, again and again, till the agony becomes a bruise on your consciousness. everything is magical and everything hurts.]

[on the outside, your body has almost finished its transition in response to this trauma, blanching over into pale skin, skeleton-pale hair, and slitted silver eyes.]

[.... becoming a claymore is very pleasant yes '-']

[STATUS CHANGE: YOU HAVE BECOME A CLAYMORE. you are at least twice as fast as you used to be and twice as strong. your senses are sharper, and you can now sense yoki! you no longer need to eat more than once every couple weeks! and all your emotions are heightened to potential instability, but especially the violent or violence-inspiring ones! if you're not in control of your emotions, this could be a problem!]

[but most pressingly, you can feel several presences pushing against that new yoki sense: a faint one in each general direction the caverns appear to go, a large but thinly-spread one back the way you came, in the direction of the field of blades ... and one directly behind you, rooted firmly to the spot, right where the tree seems to be, large and present enough that it instinctively grips at the fight/flight reflex with its intensity.]

[what ... do ... you ... do.]

[flourished]

[ . . . stretch, first. And take a moment to take everything in.

And then try to kick Louvre in the head, I guess still screaming because I can - but more of just a. Scream. Than agony. Yay? ]

[toolate]

[.............. um?????]

[amivoringyou]

[--and then Louvre was even more of a dick, because he totes just ducked that kick.]

Now, now. I just did you a favor - is that any way to treat a friend?

[flourished]

[ takes a deeeeeeeeeeepppppppp breath. ]

Friends. Friends could use a little warning, please.

Drift, there's a few things around. Like that tree. . . [ narrows her eyes at Louvre and the tree both 8|| ]

[toolate]

[looking a little uncertainly between aeris mcjerk and the tree]

What's wrong with-- [you??] --them?