thirteen // [interlude; dream]
Warning: For possible discussions of murder, suicide, noncon/dubcon, emotional blackmail, how much of an asshole Adachi is and for possible suicidal imagery. Please proceed at your own discretion.
Also: The dream is written in prose for ease of voices, but action style comments are perfectly fine. It's up to you!
A familiar eye would recognise the chilly, rustic room as being the lower level of Konishi Liquors.
Saki sits in a stackable wooden chair, chin tucked against her knee and expression blank. The Shadow, a bitingly exact likeness, curls around her like water, a thin arm wrapped around Saki’s shoulders and its lips hovering close to the girl’s ear.
Translucent black tendrils, thin as ribbons, are wrapped around Saki’s arms and neck; weaving, criss-crossing. Trapping her, collaring her.
“You know no one’s coming. Remember last time? Six people and none of them were you.”
“I-”
“-know,” the Shadow finishes for her, rolling its eyes. At that moment, there’s nothing to distinguish them, the gesture so wholly Saki in inflection. “Yeah, I got it. You don’t need to say anything for me to know what you’re thinking.”
Both voices are echoes of one another. It’s the tone that’s wholly different. The first is deep and vibrant, full of judgment and opinion and a thin layer of amusement, boredom weaving in and out of every pointed syllable. The second voice is flattened, nothing more than a dull hum, static on the line.
Saki says nothing, and the Shadow chuckles darkly, a low sound in its throat.
With a flick of its wrist, Saki’s chin jerks upward.
“It’s okay to give up.” The Shadow drags its thumb under the ribbon around her neck. “Why cling to the idea that your life is worth shit? Even you aren’t that stupid.” Its eyes flare to life, its expression almost gentle. “We just want you back with us.”
The Shadow tugs at the ribbon, pulling Saki that final inch up, toward, to.
The blackness recedes back down her arms, thin ribbon sliding down her flesh, away; away from her mouth - their mouths now, nearly one.
It doesn’t last.
Both of them lift their heads simultaneously, turning to look at the intruder-you, maybe. For a moment, their expressions are perfect mirrors of the other; jaw set, lips parted in curiosity, gaze cool and not particularly welcoming.
Saki’s look does not change, her throat still pulsing in an effort to draw breath as the ribbon twines itself around her neck once more.
The Shadow’s lips curl upward, pleased. Its hands settle possessively on Saki’s shoulders. “Cool, we have an audience.”
Also: The dream is written in prose for ease of voices, but action style comments are perfectly fine. It's up to you!
A familiar eye would recognise the chilly, rustic room as being the lower level of Konishi Liquors.
Saki sits in a stackable wooden chair, chin tucked against her knee and expression blank. The Shadow, a bitingly exact likeness, curls around her like water, a thin arm wrapped around Saki’s shoulders and its lips hovering close to the girl’s ear.
Translucent black tendrils, thin as ribbons, are wrapped around Saki’s arms and neck; weaving, criss-crossing. Trapping her, collaring her.
“You know no one’s coming. Remember last time? Six people and none of them were you.”
“I-”
“-know,” the Shadow finishes for her, rolling its eyes. At that moment, there’s nothing to distinguish them, the gesture so wholly Saki in inflection. “Yeah, I got it. You don’t need to say anything for me to know what you’re thinking.”
Both voices are echoes of one another. It’s the tone that’s wholly different. The first is deep and vibrant, full of judgment and opinion and a thin layer of amusement, boredom weaving in and out of every pointed syllable. The second voice is flattened, nothing more than a dull hum, static on the line.
Saki says nothing, and the Shadow chuckles darkly, a low sound in its throat.
With a flick of its wrist, Saki’s chin jerks upward.
“It’s okay to give up.” The Shadow drags its thumb under the ribbon around her neck. “Why cling to the idea that your life is worth shit? Even you aren’t that stupid.” Its eyes flare to life, its expression almost gentle. “We just want you back with us.”
The Shadow tugs at the ribbon, pulling Saki that final inch up, toward, to.
The blackness recedes back down her arms, thin ribbon sliding down her flesh, away; away from her mouth - their mouths now, nearly one.
It doesn’t last.
Both of them lift their heads simultaneously, turning to look at the intruder-you, maybe. For a moment, their expressions are perfect mirrors of the other; jaw set, lips parted in curiosity, gaze cool and not particularly welcoming.
Saki’s look does not change, her throat still pulsing in an effort to draw breath as the ribbon twines itself around her neck once more.
The Shadow’s lips curl upward, pleased. Its hands settle possessively on Saki’s shoulders. “Cool, we have an audience.”