The Twenty Second Trial

[hot_mess_express]

Who: You
When: Day 49, Morning
Where:

The entrance today is a huge, ornate stone archway. A gossamer veil glittering like starlight upon water hangs inside it, fluttering as if caught in a gentle breeze. It's impossible to say what might lie beyond; even if you walk around the other side — and it's perfectly possible to do so — you just see the same thing.

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Comments

[beeknighted]

[Mao doesn't look nearly as bad as her. He's been slashed across the face by a clawed hand and has a small scratch on his throat. There's dried blood on his clothes, and a few smears on his mouth where he missed spots trying to scrub it away. Reminders of why he should not get close to her, when Meridian locks eyes with him he can't pull his gaze away, but he does slam a hand over his mouth and nose and take another step back.]

[featherbeaned]

Mao —

[ She starts to reach towards him, only to yip in pain and curl over her arms. Ow. ]

[beeknighted]

Meri--

[His cry of alarm is muffled by his hand, he can't help but move towards her when she reaches for him but he stops himself. He can't lose control.]

[featherbeaned]

[ It hurts, it hurts a lot, but Mao smells like blood and pain; he's hurting too. ]

[ So she tries to stand, to get to him so she can help him somehow. ]

[beeknighted]

[aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh]

I-It's dangerous to move if you're hurt.

[featherbeaned]

You're hurt!

[ And up! And moving! ]

[beeknighted]

I'm not that hurt!

[featherbeaned]

Hurt enough! Sit, Mao! Sit!

[beeknighted]

Can I sit somewhere further away?

[THERE ARE SO MANY DEAD PEOPLE]

[featherbeaned]

... Yes!

[ see, she's not unreasonable. ]

[ but she is wobbling after him ]

[beeknighted]

[MAO WISHES SHE WOULD SIT

but he is going to get himself a good distance away, drop down to sit, and bury his face in his hand.]

[featherbeaned]

[ YOU'RE NOT HER MOM ]

[ She sits back down once she's closer to him, with a couple of feet distance. ]

Maaaoooooooo ...

[beeknighted]

[OH BUT SHE'S HIS MOM]

Yes?

[featherbeaned]

I wanna help. How can I?

[beeknighted]

...I don't know.

You're hurt. How do I help you?

[featherbeaned]

[ Good question! She thinks on it for a minute, and eventually comes to a highly valid conclusion - ]

I want you to pet my ears. But I don't know how to get back to being myself.

[beeknighted]

[Looks at his bloody hand, ummmm...]

I'll get you even messier, but I could pet your hair? Would that help?

[featherbeaned]

Might. Maybe. [ She looks at his hand, too. ]

[ Normally she'd offer to lick it clean because she doesn't give a fuck, but hm ]

[ maybe not right now ]

Or ... or! We could go! And get clean. Then you can pet my hair.

[beeknighted]

. . .

Getting clean would help, I think.

[featherbeaned]

[ Makes sense to her. ]

Let's go. [ Wobbles back up to her feet, though she stumbles halfway, her breath hitching with a ragged cough. ]

[beeknighted]

Are you sure you can walk? Do you...

[He hesitates, Mao had wanted to offer her a shoulder to lean on but he's still so worried what if he tries to eat her too]

...I could find you a walking stick?

[featherbeaned]

[ COUGH COUGH. ]

[ eugh ]

S'okay. My legs are okay.

[beeknighted]

Blood loss is also bad for you.

[featherbeaned]

Yeaaaaah ... but ...

Hard to hold a stick with - [ waggles her arms vaguely ]

[beeknighted]

. . .

[Considering offering her his shoulder again but... but no. He's bad.]

We can walk slowly.