White Rabbit. (
apatheticguide) wrote2015-12-11 02:30 am
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Entry tags:
For not spamming F_V. Shenanigans. Some violence/murder may be within.
[ This is a catch-all post of the bracketspam (probably) variety for one White Rabbit in FV. Just... bringing stuff here, or stuff we wanna do that won't clog the main comm, or stuff that's really violent I don't wanna put IN the main comm, or what-have-you. ]


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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. ]
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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.)
...
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... 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. ]
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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.)
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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. ]
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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.)
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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. ]
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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.)
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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. ]