![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
- ! mod event,
- arknights: shalem,
- bleach: grimmjow jaegerjaquez,
- bleach: jugram haschwalth,
- danganronpa: fukawa toko,
- encanto: bruno madrigal,
- ennead: set,
- fe3h: claude von riegan,
- fe3h: felix hugo fraldarius,
- ffvii: vincent valentine,
- genshin impact: tartaglia (childe),
- genshin impact: the traveler (lumine),
- hades: zagreus,
- htwmho: rudbeckia de borgia,
- jjk: fushiguro megumi,
- jjk: itadori yuuji,
- naruto: uchiha sasuke,
- orv: han sooyoung,
- orv: jung heewon,
- shadow and bone: the darkling,
- stranger things: steve harrington,
- the last of us: joel miller,
- vld: keith
(no subject)
I. PUSHING UP DAISIES
cw: depiction of hanahaki, mention of blood, mild body horror
The Frightful Harvest ended on a bloody, eerie note, but the Respite's most welcome interlude has proven exceptionally fruitful. The sky's darkened again, moons struggling to glow through turbulent clouds, but crops all over Stygia have grown dense and healthy, herbs and plants and flowers aplenty. Normally, it'd be a time to rejoice, even as sleet pours and winds grow bitterly cold -- and it might have been, had greens and stems and petals NOT elected to blossom inside you. Your lungs, specifically.
It's an uncommon side effect of the Harvest, affecting those who foster affection or attraction towards another, triggered only by a stray thought. Almost as if punished by Oblivium for harboring any kind of positive feelings. The worst part is that the object of your desire doesn't even have to be in the Netherworld for you to be afflicted. Over the span of three months, you'll gradually experience various degrees of the "harvest's curse", depending on the source of your feelings:
II. DO NOT PASS GO
cw: mention of blood, torture, branding, violence, forced captivity
Full-swing investigations concerning the Harvest's murders have begun, though the mysterious rider has yet to resurface. The day is young still, but no matter; the Hierarchy firmly believes that the creature was summoned by a group of renegades, fully intent on finding and dismembering the organization. Perhaps even literally.
If you've spilled blood not your own in the previous event, the Hierarchy finds you. Do they know? It doesn't really matter; they've targeted you for reasons they won't divulge, persuaded of your involvement -- and off to the Gallows you go. Each of you receives the same greeting when you arrive, held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with the letter F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’, and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the Hierarchy's hospitality. Writhe and scream and glower as much as you want; next thing you know, something heavy hits you across the head, and you collapse.
When your vision slowly creeps back, your eyes adjust to a dimly lit stone cell. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain, and you lie in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. It's dark; the air is bloated and filled with agonizing shrieks. Dead vines scrap the walls of half-crumbled buildings, weather-worn stone pillars surrounded by withered clumps of grass. You may converse with your cellmates: the guards patrolling the Gallows couldn't care less, convinced that no one could possibly escape anyway.
III. TO THE RESCUE
cw: depiction of hanahaki, mention of blood, mild body horror
The Frightful Harvest ended on a bloody, eerie note, but the Respite's most welcome interlude has proven exceptionally fruitful. The sky's darkened again, moons struggling to glow through turbulent clouds, but crops all over Stygia have grown dense and healthy, herbs and plants and flowers aplenty. Normally, it'd be a time to rejoice, even as sleet pours and winds grow bitterly cold -- and it might have been, had greens and stems and petals NOT elected to blossom inside you. Your lungs, specifically.
It's an uncommon side effect of the Harvest, affecting those who foster affection or attraction towards another, triggered only by a stray thought. Almost as if punished by Oblivium for harboring any kind of positive feelings. The worst part is that the object of your desire doesn't even have to be in the Netherworld for you to be afflicted. Over the span of three months, you'll gradually experience various degrees of the "harvest's curse", depending on the source of your feelings:
► PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL ATTRACTION & REQUITED LOVE
It starts with an itch. Your throat tickles, an odd sensation in your lungs, slightly constricted. Allergies? Not quite. It worsens overtime, and days pass by, perhaps weeks. You cough, a little more every day, a little deeper, and then it happens: petals, stuck to your lips as you wheeze and try to empty your chest. Marigold, carnations, daisies, peonies... Thankfully, for you, it's more of an annoyance, sporadic at best and leaving you exhausted at times, but you're in no immediate danger. Unfortunately, not all Restless share the same luck.
► UNREQUITED LOVE
It doesn't matter whether it is truly unrequited; as long as you think it is, whether you're fully convinced or distantly resigned, you get the whole package. It starts the same way the lesser variation does, gradual, and with unsavory (!) additions: lilies and dark red roses. The first slowly spreads its poison in your body, inducing fevers, skin rashes, blistering in your mouth and stomach aches. The second pricks your throat bloody, making speech difficult and breathing even more so. It spreads throughout Stygia, and if most wound up meeting their end in the past, some speak of a highly hypothetical cure. It's believed that if the object of your affection confesses equally strong feelings for you, the curse should rapidly subside. If this option isn't viable, Doran promises that all Healers in Hale are working extremely hard to find a solution. In the meantime, symptoms can be partially soothed with poultices and spells that you can find in the Marketplace or in Serene. Some merchants might even take pity on you and offer them for free.
It starts with an itch. Your throat tickles, an odd sensation in your lungs, slightly constricted. Allergies? Not quite. It worsens overtime, and days pass by, perhaps weeks. You cough, a little more every day, a little deeper, and then it happens: petals, stuck to your lips as you wheeze and try to empty your chest. Marigold, carnations, daisies, peonies... Thankfully, for you, it's more of an annoyance, sporadic at best and leaving you exhausted at times, but you're in no immediate danger. Unfortunately, not all Restless share the same luck.
► UNREQUITED LOVE
It doesn't matter whether it is truly unrequited; as long as you think it is, whether you're fully convinced or distantly resigned, you get the whole package. It starts the same way the lesser variation does, gradual, and with unsavory (!) additions: lilies and dark red roses. The first slowly spreads its poison in your body, inducing fevers, skin rashes, blistering in your mouth and stomach aches. The second pricks your throat bloody, making speech difficult and breathing even more so. It spreads throughout Stygia, and if most wound up meeting their end in the past, some speak of a highly hypothetical cure. It's believed that if the object of your affection confesses equally strong feelings for you, the curse should rapidly subside. If this option isn't viable, Doran promises that all Healers in Hale are working extremely hard to find a solution. In the meantime, symptoms can be partially soothed with poultices and spells that you can find in the Marketplace or in Serene. Some merchants might even take pity on you and offer them for free.
if your character has heard of similar diseases in their home world, they're absolutely welcome to share their insight on the netherwork or anywhere else
the evolution of the disease can be as gradual, as fast or as severe as you wish it to be
a mini quest to retrieve ingredients for a cure will be available in december or january
by february, all characters should be cured
II. DO NOT PASS GO
cw: mention of blood, torture, branding, violence, forced captivity
Full-swing investigations concerning the Harvest's murders have begun, though the mysterious rider has yet to resurface. The day is young still, but no matter; the Hierarchy firmly believes that the creature was summoned by a group of renegades, fully intent on finding and dismembering the organization. Perhaps even literally.
If you've spilled blood not your own in the previous event, the Hierarchy finds you. Do they know? It doesn't really matter; they've targeted you for reasons they won't divulge, persuaded of your involvement -- and off to the Gallows you go. Each of you receives the same greeting when you arrive, held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with the letter F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’, and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the Hierarchy's hospitality. Writhe and scream and glower as much as you want; next thing you know, something heavy hits you across the head, and you collapse.
When your vision slowly creeps back, your eyes adjust to a dimly lit stone cell. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain, and you lie in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. It's dark; the air is bloated and filled with agonizing shrieks. Dead vines scrap the walls of half-crumbled buildings, weather-worn stone pillars surrounded by withered clumps of grass. You may converse with your cellmates: the guards patrolling the Gallows couldn't care less, convinced that no one could possibly escape anyway.
► Ironically, a magical barrier around the Gallows prevents magical/spiritual abilities from functioning. However, characters who roam free still can absolutely sneak in! Be careful not to get caught, though!
► Loud disagreements might attract unwanted attention. A single guard will come, and if he finds nothing else amiss, will threaten them to be quiet. A second violation earns the offender a rap on their bare feet with a club. A third violation will cause the offender to be gagged. Note that in order to beat or gag the offender, the guard must first open the cell.
► If you share affinities with Gargoyles, incapacitating a guard in any way will draw the attention of one. It'll show you to the gates where you'll be able to escape, taking care of sentries on your way. You should probably keep a low-profile from then on, and avoid showing-off your brand.
► A secret passage may be found through a mausoleum nearby; an arrow of flaking red paint marks the entrance. Or is it blood? Inside, it's nearly pitch-black. Perhaps, if you're lucky, your vision extends as far as 30 feet in front of you, but occasionally, the darkness is broken by clinging phosphorescent fungi or crawling luminescent creatures, and from out of the silence echo sounds of dripping water. You're underground, and Abysmals can be encountered here if you're too loud. You should also watch out for cave-ins, but as you get farther away from the general region of the Gallows, your magical abilities gradually come back.
► Eventually, a long, broken staircase will lead you to Hale. If you're injured, you'll be sent to the main infirmary; characters with healing abilities or knowledge are super welcome to help!
Luckily for you, there are so many prisoners it's a difficult task for the Hierarchy to always keep track of all of them. Your brand, however, is a dead giveaway, so you might as well try and find a way to get rid of it; you might hear through the grapevines that the dead skin of Badaliscus can be used as bandages, and overtime, the brand will fully heal and disappear.► Loud disagreements might attract unwanted attention. A single guard will come, and if he finds nothing else amiss, will threaten them to be quiet. A second violation earns the offender a rap on their bare feet with a club. A third violation will cause the offender to be gagged. Note that in order to beat or gag the offender, the guard must first open the cell.
► If you share affinities with Gargoyles, incapacitating a guard in any way will draw the attention of one. It'll show you to the gates where you'll be able to escape, taking care of sentries on your way. You should probably keep a low-profile from then on, and avoid showing-off your brand.
► A secret passage may be found through a mausoleum nearby; an arrow of flaking red paint marks the entrance. Or is it blood? Inside, it's nearly pitch-black. Perhaps, if you're lucky, your vision extends as far as 30 feet in front of you, but occasionally, the darkness is broken by clinging phosphorescent fungi or crawling luminescent creatures, and from out of the silence echo sounds of dripping water. You're underground, and Abysmals can be encountered here if you're too loud. You should also watch out for cave-ins, but as you get farther away from the general region of the Gallows, your magical abilities gradually come back.
► Eventually, a long, broken staircase will lead you to Hale. If you're injured, you'll be sent to the main infirmary; characters with healing abilities or knowledge are super welcome to help!
III. TO THE RESCUE
As you attempt to escape, or perhaps once you’ve successfully snuck in, you come across a terrifying spectacle: in front of you, impaled through the shoulder by a spear, a weary humanoid figure covered in blood. The body is being restrained by additional shackles on each arm and leg, which are linked to chains anchored within the walls. There's a guard nearby, armed to the teeth… and still you decide to free them.
The guard’s magic is just as useless as yours, and while impressive in size, dexterity definitely isn’t his main strength. He hits hard — with brass knuckles, a chain mace, and a sturdy shield — and his stamina almost seems endless, but it’s not. Keep evading, and he’ll eventually tire enough to topple over. It’s also possible to have him chase you around if you don’t go too far, which would allow someone else to grab the spear. Once he’s too exhausted to go on, you can either kill him or chain him to the wall. The keys are in his boots, and you’ll find a bottle of water as well as a small vial of ointment in a satchel on the ground, where he previously stood.
The prisoner is a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s. Once freed from his shackles, he immediately keels over, though he’s not unconscious. He thanks you with a deep and raw voice, begging for water. You can tend to his wounds if you’re able—the ointment quickly soothes—and when he finally stands again, he asks you a question: “I’m a stranger to you, and you could have died. Yet, you chose to free me, unaware of my past. Of my crimes. Of my virtues. Why?”
Regardless of your answer, he smiles, a private understanding that turns the stretch of his lips enigmatic. There’s a bubbling chuckle in his throat, very hoarse, and then he hisses, touching where you’ve helped him apply the ointment on his body. “You know what they say. If it stings...” He looks at you, deliberately pausing there and staring bold into your eyes. “... then it must be working.”
It might feel like there’s more to what he’s trying to say, though it’s pointless to ask: he bows, and then he slowly inches away from you. “Until we meet again.” White and thick tendrils of smoke envelop him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and then just like that, he’s gone.
The guard’s magic is just as useless as yours, and while impressive in size, dexterity definitely isn’t his main strength. He hits hard — with brass knuckles, a chain mace, and a sturdy shield — and his stamina almost seems endless, but it’s not. Keep evading, and he’ll eventually tire enough to topple over. It’s also possible to have him chase you around if you don’t go too far, which would allow someone else to grab the spear. Once he’s too exhausted to go on, you can either kill him or chain him to the wall. The keys are in his boots, and you’ll find a bottle of water as well as a small vial of ointment in a satchel on the ground, where he previously stood.
The prisoner is a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s. Once freed from his shackles, he immediately keels over, though he’s not unconscious. He thanks you with a deep and raw voice, begging for water. You can tend to his wounds if you’re able—the ointment quickly soothes—and when he finally stands again, he asks you a question: “I’m a stranger to you, and you could have died. Yet, you chose to free me, unaware of my past. Of my crimes. Of my virtues. Why?”
Regardless of your answer, he smiles, a private understanding that turns the stretch of his lips enigmatic. There’s a bubbling chuckle in his throat, very hoarse, and then he hisses, touching where you’ve helped him apply the ointment on his body. “You know what they say. If it stings...” He looks at you, deliberately pausing there and staring bold into your eyes. “... then it must be working.”
It might feel like there’s more to what he’s trying to say, though it’s pointless to ask: he bows, and then he slowly inches away from you. “Until we meet again.” White and thick tendrils of smoke envelop him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and then just like that, he’s gone.
so you’ve chosen to free him, which in turn has generated a future plot point that’ll occur some time in february. some of you WILL see him again.
what he says to you is a clue.
you can answer his question OOCly right here. it’ll have some bearing on the way your character will be approached re: future plot point.
if you've voted no and would still like to participate, you could always allow your character to be convinced or reluctantly dragged by another!
ooc note
► As always, check out the Notice Board if you'd like additional prompts! Older quests from previous months are always available as well. You'll also find the Calendar right here.
► You'll find already answered questions just here, and if you'd like to ask new ones, ask them here!
► For fun's sake and similarly to the puck adventure, you may play it out in different groups or on your own, and still obtain the same results as everyone else whether your characters threaded together!
no subject
The guard snoozing unintentionally gets shut up inside the cell once Fukawa is outside. Goodnight, sweet prince.] A group of us would make it more difficult to escape undetected. [He doesn't say this like he's necessarily opposed. Only, if their intentions had been for stealth, it'd be a poor choice.
He heads toward the right, walking carefully but bold and upright, not crouched or hiding. If he's seen, he's seen. It's not hard to miss him anyway: he's so pale, he stands out in the dark a little more, like a white apparition. Maybe that's partially what all the black attire had been for...?]
no subject
[It's true. Fukawa clamps up, gnawing the inside of her cheek. All right, look, she's not a bleeding heart, not even after all that torment in Towa City. But they had been dragged here in droves. She could have believed that Sylvain had reported her to the authorities, or someone else had on his behalf, if it weren't for the sight of so many Restless being corralled into the Gallows. If not for this man, the sloppiness of the Guards. There might be more people they know in here. Ones who didn't deserve this treatment at all.
And what good would they be to them if they got caught trying to play hero? Do they leave people behind simply because they're strangers?
It's a quandary that mutes her for some time, makes her fall another step behind. At least he won't be hard to lose. He's so pale he nearly glows in the dark.]
Th-then if we get out, we should figure out wh-what happened here. If we need to come back for someone...
[And what if they get taken to the Forges in the interim? Fukawa swaps the inside of her lip for the edge of her thumb, gnashing at the border of her nail. There's no way out of this without screwing someone over, is there?]
no subject
[He's just hazarding a guess. There are so many do-gooders with insurmountable loyalty out here in the Netherworld. No way they wouldn't be rushing in to try helping. Does he think he has friends? No. Are there a few people who would do that for him? Yes.]
I'll take you out, and then I'll come back for who I can.
[To... reassure her? He's not sure if she cares to be reassured or not, but it sounds like she has a few scruples when it comes to the people still imprisoned. He'll come back for them because he's not afraid of this place, or the guards even if maybe he should be.]
cw: blood, hanahaki
Much like herself.
She blows out a hot breath of frustration. Really, unless they make rounds of every cell there's no telling if there are any prisoners worth rescuing. Someone would catch them before they finished the first block.
And his offer is kind, though incredibly fool-hardy.]
Are you g-gonna put on a shirt first? [They should have frisked that guard far more thoroughly. She's barely clothed herself.] If you t-try coming back alone you'll wind up dead for sure. Is there someone you know who—
[Here she splits off coughing. Funny that it took so long, a dank dungeon is the perfect place for illness to fester.
Fukawa braces a hand to the wall, coughing into her elbow, the guard's baton dangling loose in her grip. There's a revoltingly wet hack. Choking.
And then she spits blood onto the stone floor. In the middle of the phlegm-addled blob is a freshly bloomed carnation, its petals mashed and bruised from the trip up her throat.]
no subject
He's very quick to pause and turn back, though all he does for the time being is watch her clinically. He doesn't answer whether he would put on a shirt first because, honestly, even if it's preferable to him, he might not depending on the circumstances.
Carefully, he checks their vicinity to see if any alert had been triggered for the noise. Doubtful anyone would pay any mind to what sounds like a prisoner being sick in a cell. Then he looks back at her.]
You have the flower disease.
[His voice is quiet as he regards the moist carnation. Then:]
Are you alright?
no subject
Don't look at it!
[She lifts a foot to kick it away before remembering her barren state. She claps her heel to the dry floor instead, scowling, her coughing tapered to a soft whuff in a tightly cinched mouth. The only thing worse than leaving it out to gawk at would be to smear the bottom of her foot with sickly gunk.
Is she all right? Fukawa sneers at the thought.]
Wh-what do you think? [She shakes her head.] What? Haven't you st-started choking on Chrysanthemums yet? Who isn't dying from this...this putrid pansy disease?!
[It seemed every day she'd witnessed someone new hocking up stamens and petals and leaves. They weren't even all the same flowers, if this were a real condition there would be some kind of logical commonality like that.
Oh, but what place does logic have here?]
no subject
It feels in poor taste to tell her he hasn't really been so heavily afflicted by the chestful of flowers, so he doesn't answer.]
We can't stall, [he reminds her gently. She can't really help being forced to cough petals and blood, he understands.] The guards will hear.
I'll carry you if you'd like.
[If she doesn't, that's fine too. He wouldn't be insulted. (Is he ever insulted by anything really?)]
no subject
I kn-know, [She seethes.] I'm trying to...
[Carry?
She stops up short. That's not — oh. Oh no. With his bare chest and everything?
But the tickling is starting up again, and Fukawa coughs a little harder, twisting away to cover the stem she spits up. She sniffles hard, her chest heaving. It's really wearing on her, now that she's paying attention to it. The misery of being incarcerated must have obscured the fatigue.
Fukawa turns back to him with a miserably bowed head. Of course a scene fit for a sweeping romance plays out for her like a wet fart at a funeral. She's more disgusting now than she's ever looked in her life, and he's too beautiful to capture in words or paint. Maybe even on film.
How depressing.]
If...if you're so r-ready to defile yourself with my stench...then fine.
[She gingerly extends a hand to him. She won't look him in the eye.]
no subject
[As powerful as his sense of smell happens to be, there are many things he will deal with for the sake of an outcome. The ends justify the means…?
He waits until she extends the hand, and then he takes it with measured carefulness. When he pulls her to himself, he gathers her up sideways with little effort to carry in his arms. She absolutely needs a bath. But he won’t be the one to force it on her, least of all not right now.]
Hold on.
[Because when he moves this time, it’s with a speed he did not use at all before.]
no subject
Such thoughts evaporate when he takes off.]
GAH!
[Sorry. The scream is clipped short at least. Fukawa's playing pillbug in his arms, cinching all limbs in and hiding her face in his neck. It's too fast, too intimate, and too unreal to be believed. Maybe she's dying in the cell and this is a final fever dream? Or he's actually a Shinigami, ushering her away to that final drop into darkness.
There were worse ways to be spirited to your demise. Though the way her chest prickles reminds her that she is very much alive.]
no subject
A wide contrast to the ethereal pale and beautiful form whisking her through the prison.
He is quick, but efficient. His eyes and ears stay just ahead, and occasionally, he cuts through to the left or the right to dodge a guard making a lazy round. It’s true that others of them are there, locked away. If no one comes for them, he will be back.
It’s near the mausoleum that he hurries by only to slow to a stop and, finally, back track. They’re things… He would have been irritated had they been destroyed, if he’s honest. Carefully, he places her down.]
We’re almost out. Here.
[He is handing her the too long black cape. He’ll wash it later if he needs, it’s fine. She deserves the dignity of clothes, KABBY.]
look her own skirt was three threads away from falling off, it's time to get her new duds
D slows down at some point, coaxing her out of his arms onto the floor of some decrepit tomb. She gingerly takes the pile of black fabric he hands her, shaking it out to reveal an enormous cape.]
Wh-what are you — oh. [He's pulling clothes out. His own? They look like they belong to him, pitch black and elaborate and he's trying to get changed you lascivious animal!
Hurriedly she turns her back to him. The cape is drawn over her thin shoulders and she's immediately grateful for the warmth. Now he won't have to contend with the indignity of her sticky skin on his flawless body.
Though...she hadn't been in a position to appreciate the moment, and now it's being taken from her. Once again fate has dealt her a cruel hand.
Fukawa coughs behind a closed mouth and fist, but sidles up to the entrance door, keeping watch as he changes. Should she peek? It might be the only time she'll see a man undressed. No, no no no — she's not some salivating teenage boy. She's above that. Yes. She has morals!]
Are y-you almost done? [Her voice is reedy with worry.] Where do we g-go from here? The Shadowlands? The Hinterlands?
[Seemed like the best bet for getting away from the police.]
im proud of her new clothes after her bath
Quickly, he puts himself back into his clothes. He is probably absolutely in a weird one-piece bodysuit, but I refuse to acknowledge that, so it is now a fitted leather top and bottom pair. Pauldrons, a belt, the boots, the cape she currently has--oh. The notorious hat.
When his voice comes, he is very suddenly a lot closer to her than he had been before, and if he startles her, it's unintentional.] We'll go underground and see where it comes out. We may be able to find a way in through Hale. [Since it's also underground, too.
He crouches a little and opens his arms like before; all of the tall and dark of the tall, dark, and handsome has come back to him with the addition of the outfit.]
it just occurred to me that this qualifies as a makeover thread
[Yet again with the yelping. She's jumped away by a foot and white knuckles the cape, turning to chew him out.
Except he's even more stunning all dressed in regalia. A flush overtakes her and it's not just from fever. Holy shit, did someone wish him to life from a Renaissance fresco?
This isn't fair. It's just an extra layer of torment! How is a girl supposed to maintain calm in a situation like this?]
Okay... [She sounds feeble, lips trembling. Kiss him.
She wraps her arms around his neck and pays a too close attention to that perfect pout of a mouth. Then glances away. With her luck she'd probably cough a carnation into his throat. And there's no way he'd be receptive. She's just...present. A totally incidental element in this stunning angel's life.
He gave her his cloak though.]
HELP it is for her sakura chuu
Like before, he gathers her, wrapped, into both arms and rises to his full height. He can truly hear her heartbeat and her breathing but chooses not to acknowledge anything at all, even the eyes at the lower half of his face. Don't give away Sakura's first kiss...]
Hold on. I don't plan to stop until we're out.
[He doesn't mind fighting what he has to fight, but it'd be risky doing that a) here as he is currently, and b) with her tagging along. Time to dodge as much as he can.
He takes off with the same speed, zipping quickly away from the clothes holding of the mausoleum and toward the direction colder, cooler air is wafting through. Tunnel? Tunnel! There are Abysmals in the tunnel, but it should be okay... He will go around...]
ty for wingmaning her to kiss the girl might also be kissing???? that he better be kissing :gun:
Anyway her dokis may both increase wildly being clutched against his big strong chest but also greatly diminish the second they're in the extreme darkness. After big-breasted girls it's her next biggest nemesis. Please ignore the pathetic shivering and cringing as they scarper through the tunnels. There may be Abysmals but their luck at catching these two escapees is ABYSMAL HA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Oh look there's stairs!]
The light! [It's as if someone's flicked a switch. She immediately regains her will to live. Maybe not the vitality that goes with it (some coughing follows) but she begins to wriggle like a cat held three seconds too long.]
W-w-we made it! Oh my god, we made it?!
[For sure thought she would die underground.]
😶🌫️
They reach light…! It’s… man-made? They come up through the ground and right into the bottom of Hale… which is already still underground. It’s a better civilization, though, than the Gallows.
The wriggling makes him immediately start putting her down on her own feet. Listen, he is not someone who holds others against their will.]
You can wash and find clothes here.
You can't fool me
The second she's set back on her feet, Fukawa drops to her hands and knees. She quails beneath the cape, laughing quietly, shakily. ]
Hahaha...haha...I'll never take freedom for g-granted again.
[It's incredible that she made it out at all. If it weren't for this man, this literal miracle worker, she'd have met her end in that dank dungeon.
She sits back, looking at him with teary eyes and a twitching smile.]
Th-th...th-th-thank you. Thank you!
[Congrats! The rarest words to come out of her mouth, just for you!
But his dismissal is too curt. The
grossgracious expression falls to confusion.]W-wait, what about you? [Moreover:] You're j-just going to dump me off here and run away?!
[typical man, amirite ladies???]