apatheticguide | For not spamming F_V. Shenanigans. Some violence/murder may be within.

[ Frail. Weak. A typical reaction. Good. Fear will make her taste better. Despair. Be unhappy. Be afraid. Lose hope. Lose that sweetness. His smile will fade slightly, here. How to answer this delicately... ]

... Humans take from other living things to survive. Plants, animals... it's no different. Being on the other end, though, being the one taken from... it's not as comfortable, is it, Alice? ... Here... I am not bound by His rules anymore, but it means I have no choice. I have to fend for myself. Rather than risk angering a local militia... you fell into my lap. The typical sort of girl who'd fall into my world. The sort of girl whose family I'd make despair over her. Your mother gets a promotion, or your father has a good day...

The work of "angels"... the work of "demons"... these are both one in the same. The "good" and the "bad" things that happen to people in their lives... they are just strings pulled so that beings like us can survive.

(It's not hard for her to decipher his words. Plants, animals, survival...he's going to eat her, isn't he? That shark's smile, the predatory stare...she's not going to come out of this alive, is she? She trusted a stranger and met the worst possible fate. For a moment, Madoka sinks further into despair, into fear, into the instinctual desire to survive. She begins trembling, futilely trying to push herself away from Rabbit and finding her back against the wall.

Though her fear remains, her plummet into despair suddenly stops.)

Then...y-you're only doing this...because you have to?

[ ... So she's going to try to escape anyway. That's fine; he'll corner her regardless. They're about the same size, give or take. He's slightly larger. Slightly. And he certainly doesn't seem much older, though he knows in truth that he is.

... The look he gives her is somewhere between agitation and... some other, far-off kind of emotion, that even he can't explain or touch, one he'd thrown away, so he can't recognize or reach it. So it manifests mostly as irritation at her actions. He'll brandish that key like it's a knife. Which, really, it is. ]

... We could eat the souls of animals, but it would hardly be nourishment. We need to take things from them. Souls don't just stop existing. They give power to whatever they go to next. We need that. ... Adults are... defiled. By how much they know. With children... it's simplistic. Easier to break. They taste better, that way. I simply cannot afford to be picky, with you. You're not... my ideal. But you'll do.

Edited 2015-12-12 09:30 (UTC)

(There's nowhere for her to go, is there? If she somehow escapes this room, the main door is likely still locked. The keys are on his person, most likely, but Madoka isn't crafty enough to swipe them from him and not agile enough to run off. There really isn't much she can do in general...

She's still on the bed, pressing against the wall with nowhere else to go. Her eyes dart between the key and Rabbit himself, the adrenaline making her movements shaky. Her heart is racing and her breath becomes just as shaky. Despite the fear, his reply answers her question. It's survival, like in nature. Not a personal grudge against the girl or through some twisted pleasure in inflicting agony on children.

He has as much choice in the matter as Madoka.

Should she beg for mercy? Should she scream for help? Should she even say anything else? What is there to say? Nothing she can think of right now. The fear of death weighs her down, yet somehow she hasn't given up hope. Hope for what, exactly? Even she's not sure. It's all she has with her right now. For wherever it will guide her)

...

[ That isn't entirely true.

... He's not a good person anymore.

He's a terrible person, who enjoys driving children to despair, forcing their families to abuse them. Making them commit suicide. Helping Cheshire, in some cases, murder the parents of loving families. Steal the love they once had. Cause their children to fit into their twisted game so they can eventually fit into his stomach, and taste better while he brings them into this World, not moving, letting them further drag themselves down by what they see reflected in their own hearts.

He presses up against her, grabbing her with a tenacity that surprises even himself. Usually his victims were near comatose souls by the time he got them, next to no fight in them at all; little awareness. Easy to eat. This... this just... no, no, he doesn't care. He'd stopped caring long ago. ]

Holding on to hope is pointless. Even if you were to not die, you are not meant to be happy. The God who created the world made it so people needed love to live... but then people rejected him, and decided to live without it, scorning him anyway. They were doomed from the onset.

[ His free hand will dig into her shoulder; he wants to try to get as close to her as he can so he can. Dealing with a willfully struggling soul is different from a body. You can't just sever a neck and it's over, especially since the World's magic isn't here and making what Alices perceive reality--the Key is just a hollow threat, really, but his mouth is not. ]

(Madoka sharply inhales as that firm grip takes her, the girl recoiling and turning away from him. She can't run and she knows it. She's going to die right here, in this room, far from her family, her friends, far from anyone who could intervene. It's only her and him. And it's becoming very clear which of them will be leaving this room.

And yet...her hope doesn't falter. Not when he's right up against her, not when the key is a mere moment away from plunging into her like the Sword of Damocles. Madoka tightly shuts her eyes.)

That's not true! Hope is never pointless. It...it isn't...

(Even now, when her demise is imminent. Her statement is one she'll stand by even after death.)

[ It's not the key she should, ironically, be concerned with. It's one of his weapons, but it's a ruse. This is shown best by how he allows it to slide over his wrist when he forcefully takes hold of her other shoulder with that hand, and bites into her opposite one abruptly, tearing away a huge part of her. It's not pretty. He might look like a Rabbit, but he's a demon, and he eats more like a shark... even if she's just a soul, it probably still hurts quite a bit, feeling her essence torn from her like that, the very fabric of who she is and some of her with it.

It could be something big or small. A sensation, some memories, an ability. After all, it's only one bite he's taken. That's what having your soul consumed will do. Eventually, there won't be enough left to remember who you were or see or feel or think and all that'll be left is to be fixed and wait to be pieced back together, to return to the cycle. ... Usually, anyway. Here, all she can hope is Death will pick up the pieces for her. As it is, he'll pull back from her, the torn shreds of some kind of brightness oozing from his mouth. He doesn't spend very long chewing it before he swallows, either. .... Tasting her confirms his suspicions. She's not normal.

A warped smile spreads on his face; he can't help it. He'll persist. He won't die. He won't. He won't cease to be. He refuses to stop existing. ]

... Still too sweet. You're undercooked. You really are adamant about that hope of yours. That's just naive.

(Tragically, pain isn't the sensation taken from her. Expectantly, she screams. She tries to pull herself free from his grip to no avail. Her squirming only worsens the pain and strengthens the fear. She doesn't want to see what that bite has done to her; she doesn't want to see that twisted, shark-like grin as takes that first bite out of the girl.

That was only the first bite. He plants on savoring her, doesn't he? Drawing out her agony for as long there's still part of her to consume.

Tears run down her cheeks as she trembles and whimpers.)

Please...don't do this...

[ Screams are nothing new to him; he hears the screams of children very frequently. He is as affected by her screaming as someone is by the wind lightly blowing their hair. He's hoping she'll be driven to despair by his actions. The better, really, that she should be, especially if this place works like he suspects. ]

Why? Because you think I should? Because it hurts?

[ A soft snort escapes him as he surveys her, considering the spot to go for next. He wants to disable her... perhaps a leg? ]

I don't care.

[ It's cruel and cold, but he doesn't. Why should he? This is his survival. ]

(Her pleading will get her nowhere. He won't stop after getting this far, after luring her away from the safety of others and trapping her exactly where he wants her. No, there's no letting her go, no mercy to be had. Just the terrified young girl who can't bring herself to open her eyes.

Her legs tremble and look ready to give. Her hope still remains, even while that wound aches from a literal piece of herself being eaten and removed from her. It's all she can focus her mind on at the moment. It's all her mind will allow her to think about.)

...

[ He grabs her hair roughly. Something about what little he can pick out of her soul's thoughts, about her mind, feels vaguely familiar. He doesn't like whatever it's setting off. He hasn't seen a child breaking face to face in a long time. He kept himself out of that mess, he just ate them after the fact.

... Too familiar... strange, so strange. What is it he's forgotten? ... He can't be bothered.

The sound of distant thundering metal feels like it fills his ears briefly--

He shakes his head. Blinks once. Then he focuses on her. He renounced having to care long, long ago. The moment he became a demon, he decided he'd take existing over disappearing. And this was what that meant. ]

... It'll be over soon. Just consider this a nightmare, Alice.

[ He doesn't waste time with her next. She's pathetic. Too pathetic to find worth drawing out. He's not the Cheshire Cat, who enjoys playing with and toying around with his food in excess. He makes a decision--he'll start with her arm and work his way from there. He doesn't eat many aware souls, so this is quite the irritation. ]

(Did he want her awake for all of this? Conscious and aware of him eating her chunk by chunk? She can't tell, she can't think. The tears keep running down her cheeks as he pulls on her hair and bites into her arm, another scream filling the room.

It's not just her soul he's eating, is it? It feels as if he's eating part of her very being with each bite. She can't describe it, but the parts of her that are feeling missing with each mouthful aren't just pieces of her body (or her soul, either way). Her life force, maybe? Personality? Memories? She can't piece it together right now; she's far too lost in pain and fear to compose much thought.

Yet her hope remains.)

[ It's not a neat process, not really, and the worst part might be the fact that because she's a soul, she can't pass out from the pain, not exactly. Why was she asleep to begin with, well--he had to awaken her, to make sure the disconnect was properly done. It takes a little while.

Somehow, he can barely recall the vaguest notion of once thinking silverware was important, that mannerisms were so, so very meaningful--

He's not the tidiest eater. Oh, sure, tidier than his partner in crime, but strange pink and white liquid and glass-like fragments seem to scatter around them as he rips more pieces off of her, and it becomes obvious what actually is left making her up, bright brilliant lights and all. The only kindness that might be said to be there might, perhaps, be that he isn't being overly drawn-out about it anymore, at least, that he seems to not be taking too much time between bites.

... The reason he'd laid her on the bed is probably obvious now, because eventually, she'd have no way to keep upright anyway, and it's an easier way for him tear her apart, without having be on the ground. She reminds him of, distantly, what he recalls human sugar tasting like, he thinks. Something like that. It's not a bad flavor, but her fear and anguish definitely improves her as time goes on, he decides. His teeth and face are a mess, but he doesn't care--he's not a person anymore, after all, and that's just how it is.

... When he's done with her arms, he'll just have to work on her legs. She's a petite girl in body, but her soul is hardier than it'd seemed.

The screaming will leave his ears ringing for awhile, but after a point, you eventually just figure you tune it out. ]

(It becomes impossible to decide which is the more terrifying sensation: the feeling of being eaten alive like this, viciously torn apart chunk by chunk...or the feeling of losing more and more of her sense of being with each bite.

Madoka Kaname, 14 years old. A good girl who never lies. A resident of XXXX, she returned home from traveling abroad with her family, XXXX, XXXX and XXXX. She's best friends with Sayaka Miki, XXXX, XXXX and Homura Akemi. They all attend the same school, XXXX each other with their assignments and live XXXX lives. Such a bright, XXXX life...not the dark, agonizing moment that leaves the girl feelings more and more empty, more towards a blank state of being than a true death.

Her screams begin to weaken, her tears silently trickle, her eyes vacantly stare at whatever's before them. She knows what the ceiling and walls are, but can't bring herself to care about them. How can she care about such little things when she's losing more of herself by the moment? How much of herself even remains?

Her hope remains.)

[ He is, at least, as fast as he can be with her. It feels somehow vaguely disrespectful not to be, when she has been so kind as to provide him such an opportunity. To drop one right into his lap, worry and hassle-free.

He realizes quickly what parts of her soul he wants nothing to do with, as he progresses. It's fine. And, like most of the meals he's eaten, he can feel much about her afterwards. He learns what she's like. Feels it, even. Tastes it, in an ironic fashion. It doesn't just rot or die, but is repurposed, to empower him, now, instead.

A good child... who never lied. A resident of Mitakihara.

A girl with a heavy burden, something encasing her soul he could not lift but decided to gently eat around. Like bones on a plate. It's fine. Then, the first things his victims always lose are memories. The last things to go... sensations. Touch. Taste. Smell. Hearing. Voice. If souls bled, he'd be covered in blood and so would this area, at this point. Instead, he's just coated in a strange mixture of light, tinted pink by her energies. Not much left. Just a little bit. Almost done. Then he thinks he'll leave whatever is left behind for the one in charge of such things here. ]

Sweet Dreams, Madoka Kaname.

[ The least he can do is use her real name, this final time. It only feels right. ]

Edited 2015-12-12 12:04 (UTC)

(So little of the bright, cheerful girl remains after Rabbit has his fill. So much emptiness...ironic, that the pain of it all is the last to go. She's not upset. She's not crying anymore. She's not screaming or flailing or breathing or even blinking at this point. What's left of the young girl is simply left there to metaphorically bleed to death.

What does it mean to bleed? What does it mean to live or die? What does it mean to even think? So little of her remains that even conscious thought is an unknown. She...exists, if it can even be called that. Flowers exist more than the remains of the girl's soul. Madoka lies on the bed motionless, no more capable of life than her corpse across the room. What does it mean to dream? What does it mean to be? Death will eventually take what remains of Madoka Kaname, the girl who always hopes for the best in everyone she meets.

When death arrives, that's exactly what it will find. Hope...that is all that remains.)

[ The White Rabbit takes a moment to move to her body. He'll have to get rid of it. Only felt proper. He lifts it up into his hands, surprisingly delicate with his touch. He'll carry it out of this place, all the way out the doors, and continue walking. She looked to be merely asleep.

She wasn't.

He carried her all the way to the marsh... until he found a spot he knew would be found by something (or several of them) that were hungry, that wouldn't let her go to waste. He paused, considering. ... He took the ribbons out of her hair, and pocketed them.

If what he suspects is correct... she will return. So, he stuffs them into his pocket. She will be wanting these back, probably. And then, he leaves her body there, and goes to clean up before returning to the boarding house. She would remain there, unaware, incapable of most things. At least her hope would be rewarded.

... He'll just return these to her. ... Won't he? A thank you, to an Alice that was very, VERY helpful. And perhaps a little too gullible. In the meantime, they'll be his evidence--something to rub in Cheshire's face. ]

For not spamming F_V. Shenanigans. Some violence/murder may be within.

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