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Posted: Jun 25 2017, 04:05 PM
The attack missed, resulting in Ayame getting injured instead. A flair of pain shot through her. However, it was the brunette's words that brought a grimace to her face. Way to point out the obvious, she thought irritably. She was... well, she was not entirely useless. However, she was not entirely sure how wise it was to go and attempt to purify the area. She was not entirely sure if it would work even if the power was far more powerful.
But then could it truly cause any harm? It might not work, at worst, but if it did it would certainly make getting to the boy much easier.
Gathering her resolve, she let out a burst of healing power. "Flora Cure!"
Posted: Jun 26 2017, 11:04 AM
Good and evil exist in the periphery of the child's mind. But everything else he sees is rearranged around such simplistic notions.
His whole world shifts; suddenly, heaven and hell rearrange themselves into a new meaning previously not discussed in Sunday school. Hell is here, on earth, at the root of his mother, father, and younger sister. And heaven?
Well. It's manifested itself in the form of three angelic beings.
Lightning crashes, electric flecks like macabre confetti. Dazzling. Light beams emerge too, striking everything in its path - him included. He is thrown into a mahogany cabinet, breathless.
The battle is quick. The heinous sound of stirring campanula give out one last strangled cry, before they are put out of their misery. The last to die is his mother. He is thankful not to have witnessed it.
The boy wakes up when it is all over. Thanks in part to the healing magic that wafts through the air.
As best he can tell, he is the lone survivor.
The boy stands in the oppressively perfumed room, shifting his weight back and forth. He lolls his head back towards the shriveling corpses and tries to recall what they looked like before.
"That was my family." He spoke the words but couldn't truly understand them, no matter how he posed it. "What am I going to...?" His voice weakens and the tears fall freely.
He closed his eyes, took deep breathes, and attempted to collect himself in front of those who had saved his life. (Even going so far as to heal him, afterwards) The clink of broken glass as his father's body deflates and withers startles him back to reality.
"Thank you." He watches them carefully.
Four months of allowing these evils into their abode; allowing them to weed out the dirt and rot from their bones. Four months. Approximately one hundred and twenty days. Two thousand, eight hundred, and eighty hours.
How much time does it take to become subjected? Where heaven stops, hell begins.
The flower in his gut is not a seedling tended by a garden of fingers. It does not grow to be so full.
"Where do we go now? Somewhere safe?" He is reasoning, scratching his head in a manner that suggests he is but a youngster. No older than twelve, perhaps, judging from knobby knees and preadolescence pitch to his voice.
But. There a sense of... oh, what is it? Dread? Trepidation? Mistrust? His words plunge from the edge of a cliff and douse themselves in icy waters.
Can this child be trusted?
Attack him, it's a ruse! He's obviously one of them!
Question him, gather a bit of information before making a decision.
PLOT TWIST! Only one option can be selected. So discuss with your team (or take the lead yourself!), but once one path is taken, the other cannot be revisited.
Author's Note: so sorry for the delay in updating! Since the fighting continued to an extra round, and three 3s were rolled, I counted them all as defeated.
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