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Narration
Different Narration
Black Voice
Blood! There was blood everywhere! The little dingy was drenched in blood. He had tried to scrub it away, until his paws were bloody and he was just smearing more and more blood onto the planks.
Eventually he had to stop when one of the makeshift bandages he had applied to his injuries came undone. All the blood had been his, and he knew that losing more would be dangerous.
Forced not to move, lest he risk worsening his condition, the young Revolutionary tried to shut out the sight of his own blood by closing his eyes. This didn't help much, as the metallic smell was already filling the air, conjuring up images unimpeded by his feeble attempts to block them out.
Feeling the pull of a panic filled nightmare, he tried to stay awake, and reminded himself that this was his blood. He was not at fault this time, he hadn't lost control. And still, it had felt so similar...
He was cold. Must've been the avalanche. His whole body felt numb from the cold despite his thick fur. He tried to get out, but he didn't even know where up or down were.
"I can see you!" A voice bellowed out over the snow.
"Don't try to hide!"
That voice was clearly hostile, but it also showed him the way out of his predicament. After a maneuver that left his inner ears protesting he was vertical again.
Before his blurry vision stood Something black and hairy, and threatened him with an upraised mass of fur.
Before his frozen body could react, the black mass hurled some of its black hair towards him. When it hit him, he immediately knew that he was in trouble. As if suddenly charged with static electricity, his carefully groomed fur stood on end. He could only watch on in shock as the tiny red stripes in his arms grew, conquering back their territory from the black stripes that had covered them, and that were getting pretty small now.
This felt so disturbingly familiar, like... That day in Camp Green, the day of the greatest failure of Yasashī te Dō. And the mass of black hair in front of him was looming now. It saw.
"I can see you!"
It knew his shame.
"Don't try to hide!"
The words echoed. The Black loomed closer and closer. There was pain now. Burning and stabbing pain. But that didn't matter. He was surrounded by the Black. "I see you!" He was freezing. The Black covered him like a blanket, but there was no warmth in it. "You can't hide from me!". The Black was tightening around him, constricting his chest, making it hard to breathe. There was a face in the darkness. He had seen it many times when he looked at the dark waters during moonless nights. It was his own, but without any color but black, his eyes black, teeth black, whiskers back and without the tiny red stripes that were usually visible on his face. "I see you! I am you! And you are me!"
And He knew this was true. The Black that conceals the Red, the Judgement and the Shame, the Monster and the Cage, all that was him, and he was also lost in-between all of these.
And the Black continued to grow, smothering him, and the Red Monster raged to be free, tearing at him with his claws, until the pain finally woke him up. He was still on his little dinghy, but the pain and the breathing trouble did not fade like the vague apparitions that had fought each other/ fought him in his dream. In his sleep he seemed to have clawed at some of the bandages, ripping open his cuts and leaving more bleeding gashes all over his chest. His claws... They weren't the short little nubs he hat filed them down to anymore, but long and vicious killing instruments. There was also this pressure on his chest that wouldn't go away. He was having trouble breathing. And was there an itch in his throat? He must've gotten a cold while he was buried in that avalanche. He hoped he wouldn't get a fever.
He did.
Pardon my freudian, but don't you just hate it when you meet your Superego and it fucks you up for hanging out with your Id?
Part 2 next week. Maybe.
[automerge]1610401137[/automerge]
He lay there in his little dinghy, with a high fever, pain in his throat, trouble breathing and clawmarks, testaments to many a nightmare, decorating both his chest and the planks of his trusty vessel. His beautiful green robes almost completely gone, used up in his attempts to dress his wounds, and subsequently torn to shreds during one of his nightmares, he tried to bargain with himself.
What happened on Drum Island had been nothing like his experience in Camp Green. Sure, his fur had stood to ends, revealing all the red fur underneath, but that must have been static electricity. He had not lost his control, his vision hadn´t turned wholly red, slowly raining down, revealing itself to be the mist of blood and guts that had just seconds before been Commander Jeffrey of the Navy Recruit Training Base Camp Green, the place he was trained to become a marine. But this time, in his encounter with that black man there hadn´t been this feeling of utter RAGE that had consumed him when he found out what Commander Jeffrey had been teaching, and why so many of his former students had come to hold laudatory speeches at the ceremony celebrating his 100ths graduation class just that morning.
He had first noticed that something was off the week before, when he was out for a patrol in the adjacent city. He had still been in the 6 week basic training course, so he only got a crash course in how to take over a guard post and how to check incoming faces in the harbour against the lists of bounty posters he had been supplied with. To him, a mink, most human faces looked the same, but he did notice that there was something missing in the faces of the townspeople compared to the sailors in the harbour, let alone the monks back at the monastery. It had seemed as if there were clouds hiding the light that should be shining from within them. He found that many of the townspeople were very on edge when he was around and some even flinched when he made a sudden movement. At first he had thought those reactions were due to him being a mink, a tiger mink at that, until he noticed similar reactions to other, human recruits
. He reported this behavior to his drill seargent, who just frowned, waved his hand and said "Don´t you worry about that, Softie.". For the rest of that day he hadn´t yelled at the young recruit. With the written tests and the preparations for the big anniversary graduation ceremony his concerns were all but forgotten, until, after the ceremony, he was ordered to appear in the Commanders Office.
He had never before seen the Commander in person, as he was more involved with the advanced courses for officers. As he reached the door to the office, his Drill Seargent was just exiting. "...And twice a year they leave this place in utter chaos. We should teach logistics off campus. How can you lose a whole magazine of cannonballs?!" When The Beet, as he was more or less affectionately called by his victims, turned around and saw the nervous recruit approach the door though, his face twisted with unfamiliar sympathy, and he patted the young man on the shoulder. "Stay strong, Softie.". Now more nervous than ever, Softie entered the office.
"Ahhh, You must be..."
The Commander tasted the name like an exotic wine. There was a bottle and a few glasses on his desk. Of course, this was his day of celebration. He offered the young man a seat and a glass, and as he spoke he made his way around his massive mahogany desk.
"You know, you are something of an oddity in our system. You cannot shoot a rifle, your paws are too stubby. You refuse to use a sword, instead you instist on waving around that silly stick. You get seasick as soon as you set foot on a deck of anything bigger than a dinghy, and frankly, you don´t look like a proper marine. Who´s going to respect a kitty cat, huh? Well, Drill Seargent Root is sticking his neck out for you. Says we need every man, with all these pirates going around, and that you have a deeply rooted sense of whats right. But you know what i think of you? You are just too soft!"
And with that he grabbed the Kitty Cat by the back of the head and smashed it onto the desk, face first into the untouched glass of alcohol.
"Us Marines need to create Order, we need to be the stong hand with the whip keeping these animals in check. And occasionally we need to make sure that problematic weeds don´t grow. You are such a problematic weed. And I will make sure that you won´t grow. Your grades are terrible anyways, without the written exam you would be on your way home already. With one or two bad performance reviews you won´t ever make officer rank. Now look at me. I want to see the moment your dreams shatter. That´s what I love this Job for. To see the lights go out."
But the lights inside Yasashī te Dō did not go out. A flame was burning, fuelled by echoes. Jeffrey´s words, a speech he heard at the graduation talking about how the Commander taught good gardening techniques *wink wink*, "problematic weeds", visions of the townspeople, their dull eyes, their fear towards marines! Commander Jeffrey was teaching his officer students to tyrranize citizens, to terrify them into "order", to extinguish their lights, and he delighted in this. The fire was raging now, burning through his soul, fuelled by these realizations, until it found something that had been buried in his subconscious for more than a decade, had festered and was now straining to break out. The flames turned into an explosion of blood, and so did Commander Jeffrey, when the awakened monster ripped him apart.
*Bonk*
Different Narration
Black Voice
Blood! There was blood everywhere! The little dingy was drenched in blood. He had tried to scrub it away, until his paws were bloody and he was just smearing more and more blood onto the planks.
Eventually he had to stop when one of the makeshift bandages he had applied to his injuries came undone. All the blood had been his, and he knew that losing more would be dangerous.
Forced not to move, lest he risk worsening his condition, the young Revolutionary tried to shut out the sight of his own blood by closing his eyes. This didn't help much, as the metallic smell was already filling the air, conjuring up images unimpeded by his feeble attempts to block them out.
Feeling the pull of a panic filled nightmare, he tried to stay awake, and reminded himself that this was his blood. He was not at fault this time, he hadn't lost control. And still, it had felt so similar...
He was cold. Must've been the avalanche. His whole body felt numb from the cold despite his thick fur. He tried to get out, but he didn't even know where up or down were.
"I can see you!" A voice bellowed out over the snow.
"Don't try to hide!"
That voice was clearly hostile, but it also showed him the way out of his predicament. After a maneuver that left his inner ears protesting he was vertical again.
Before his blurry vision stood Something black and hairy, and threatened him with an upraised mass of fur.
Before his frozen body could react, the black mass hurled some of its black hair towards him. When it hit him, he immediately knew that he was in trouble. As if suddenly charged with static electricity, his carefully groomed fur stood on end. He could only watch on in shock as the tiny red stripes in his arms grew, conquering back their territory from the black stripes that had covered them, and that were getting pretty small now.
This felt so disturbingly familiar, like... That day in Camp Green, the day of the greatest failure of Yasashī te Dō. And the mass of black hair in front of him was looming now. It saw.
"I can see you!"
It knew his shame.
"Don't try to hide!"
The words echoed. The Black loomed closer and closer. There was pain now. Burning and stabbing pain. But that didn't matter. He was surrounded by the Black. "I see you!" He was freezing. The Black covered him like a blanket, but there was no warmth in it. "You can't hide from me!". The Black was tightening around him, constricting his chest, making it hard to breathe. There was a face in the darkness. He had seen it many times when he looked at the dark waters during moonless nights. It was his own, but without any color but black, his eyes black, teeth black, whiskers back and without the tiny red stripes that were usually visible on his face. "I see you! I am you! And you are me!"
And He knew this was true. The Black that conceals the Red, the Judgement and the Shame, the Monster and the Cage, all that was him, and he was also lost in-between all of these.
And the Black continued to grow, smothering him, and the Red Monster raged to be free, tearing at him with his claws, until the pain finally woke him up. He was still on his little dinghy, but the pain and the breathing trouble did not fade like the vague apparitions that had fought each other/ fought him in his dream. In his sleep he seemed to have clawed at some of the bandages, ripping open his cuts and leaving more bleeding gashes all over his chest. His claws... They weren't the short little nubs he hat filed them down to anymore, but long and vicious killing instruments. There was also this pressure on his chest that wouldn't go away. He was having trouble breathing. And was there an itch in his throat? He must've gotten a cold while he was buried in that avalanche. He hoped he wouldn't get a fever.
He did.
Pardon my freudian, but don't you just hate it when you meet your Superego and it fucks you up for hanging out with your Id?
Part 2 next week. Maybe.
[automerge]1610401137[/automerge]
He lay there in his little dinghy, with a high fever, pain in his throat, trouble breathing and clawmarks, testaments to many a nightmare, decorating both his chest and the planks of his trusty vessel. His beautiful green robes almost completely gone, used up in his attempts to dress his wounds, and subsequently torn to shreds during one of his nightmares, he tried to bargain with himself.
What happened on Drum Island had been nothing like his experience in Camp Green. Sure, his fur had stood to ends, revealing all the red fur underneath, but that must have been static electricity. He had not lost his control, his vision hadn´t turned wholly red, slowly raining down, revealing itself to be the mist of blood and guts that had just seconds before been Commander Jeffrey of the Navy Recruit Training Base Camp Green, the place he was trained to become a marine. But this time, in his encounter with that black man there hadn´t been this feeling of utter RAGE that had consumed him when he found out what Commander Jeffrey had been teaching, and why so many of his former students had come to hold laudatory speeches at the ceremony celebrating his 100ths graduation class just that morning.
He had first noticed that something was off the week before, when he was out for a patrol in the adjacent city. He had still been in the 6 week basic training course, so he only got a crash course in how to take over a guard post and how to check incoming faces in the harbour against the lists of bounty posters he had been supplied with. To him, a mink, most human faces looked the same, but he did notice that there was something missing in the faces of the townspeople compared to the sailors in the harbour, let alone the monks back at the monastery. It had seemed as if there were clouds hiding the light that should be shining from within them. He found that many of the townspeople were very on edge when he was around and some even flinched when he made a sudden movement. At first he had thought those reactions were due to him being a mink, a tiger mink at that, until he noticed similar reactions to other, human recruits
. He reported this behavior to his drill seargent, who just frowned, waved his hand and said "Don´t you worry about that, Softie.". For the rest of that day he hadn´t yelled at the young recruit. With the written tests and the preparations for the big anniversary graduation ceremony his concerns were all but forgotten, until, after the ceremony, he was ordered to appear in the Commanders Office.
He had never before seen the Commander in person, as he was more involved with the advanced courses for officers. As he reached the door to the office, his Drill Seargent was just exiting. "...And twice a year they leave this place in utter chaos. We should teach logistics off campus. How can you lose a whole magazine of cannonballs?!" When The Beet, as he was more or less affectionately called by his victims, turned around and saw the nervous recruit approach the door though, his face twisted with unfamiliar sympathy, and he patted the young man on the shoulder. "Stay strong, Softie.". Now more nervous than ever, Softie entered the office.
"Ahhh, You must be..."
The Commander tasted the name like an exotic wine. There was a bottle and a few glasses on his desk. Of course, this was his day of celebration. He offered the young man a seat and a glass, and as he spoke he made his way around his massive mahogany desk.
"You know, you are something of an oddity in our system. You cannot shoot a rifle, your paws are too stubby. You refuse to use a sword, instead you instist on waving around that silly stick. You get seasick as soon as you set foot on a deck of anything bigger than a dinghy, and frankly, you don´t look like a proper marine. Who´s going to respect a kitty cat, huh? Well, Drill Seargent Root is sticking his neck out for you. Says we need every man, with all these pirates going around, and that you have a deeply rooted sense of whats right. But you know what i think of you? You are just too soft!"
And with that he grabbed the Kitty Cat by the back of the head and smashed it onto the desk, face first into the untouched glass of alcohol.
"Us Marines need to create Order, we need to be the stong hand with the whip keeping these animals in check. And occasionally we need to make sure that problematic weeds don´t grow. You are such a problematic weed. And I will make sure that you won´t grow. Your grades are terrible anyways, without the written exam you would be on your way home already. With one or two bad performance reviews you won´t ever make officer rank. Now look at me. I want to see the moment your dreams shatter. That´s what I love this Job for. To see the lights go out."
But the lights inside Yasashī te Dō did not go out. A flame was burning, fuelled by echoes. Jeffrey´s words, a speech he heard at the graduation talking about how the Commander taught good gardening techniques *wink wink*, "problematic weeds", visions of the townspeople, their dull eyes, their fear towards marines! Commander Jeffrey was teaching his officer students to tyrranize citizens, to terrify them into "order", to extinguish their lights, and he delighted in this. The fire was raging now, burning through his soul, fuelled by these realizations, until it found something that had been buried in his subconscious for more than a decade, had festered and was now straining to break out. The flames turned into an explosion of blood, and so did Commander Jeffrey, when the awakened monster ripped him apart.
*Bonk*
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