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selfpreservationist) wrote2008-01-22 08:50 pm
selfpreservationist) wrote2008-01-22 08:50 pm
[RAVEN'S HEART GAME - SESSION ONE]
The first thing you hear is the sound of rain faintly hitting the exterior of the house. The soft pitter-patter is almost soothing, in a way, but it’s quickly followed up by rumbling thunder in the distance. You open your eyes, and for a second all you see is a flash of light--at first it seems like it’s lightning, but then you see something. A vision of a man dressed in rags, hunched over, waves of demonic power rolling over him. He howls, and something terrible starts to grow out of him: the bloody roots of a massive tree. An immense wave of panic hits you, and you can’t move, you can’t speak, you can’t breathe--
And then it’s over. It’s over. You’re fine.
The sound of rain returns. (This time it’s definitely soothing, compared to what you just saw.) You’re standing in the foyer of a mansion, a wide open living room in front of you. The door behind you is faintly ajar, leading outside.
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Re: DOOR THREE - THE BEDROOM
[He pats one of the books gently.]
I would not want to cause damage here for you. And this room is certainly comfortable.
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"You can stay here, if you like. It's pretty safe here."
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But you will wear my coat. I do not particularly mind what Jason may misconstrue but I would rather avoid Vergil growing jealous for no reason.
[And he will in fact shrug his coat off to offer it over.]
Besides, warm as the room is I am still cold just looking at you.
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"If you insist. It's a nice coat."
He sidles over. Cuddle time.
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He stacks the books with care by the bed and lays on his side, holding his arms open and pulling Raven back against his chest as the small spoon, time to nap.]
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This would be a totally normal cuddle session except... he's purring, and this time it's literal. Just a gentle vibrating purr.
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He will fall asleep for a while like this though! That's soothing.]
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And yes, let's go with Noah.]
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The book reads:
I’ll never forget the moment he told me. That his heart belonged to another, one from his world he’d always love and be beholden to, and yet he yearned for me anyway. He wanted me, wanted to cherish me, wanted to love me despite everything. I can think of no higher honor, especially not from someone as devoted as Raha. My Raha. It was a playful thing at first, making claim to him, but as time carried on I went from casually possessive to wanting to be by his side--not just as a lover, but as someone who could help him shoulder whatever burdens he possessed. His kindness, his generosity felt boundless at times, but I saw what the weight of sorrow did to him. For the first time since I awoke in this place, I felt the need to do something for someone else: not for my own sake, but for theirs. I consider myself a selfish, greedy man, but for Raha I learned what it was to be someone’s solace… and for that I can’t thank him enough. I want to be the kind of person he feels he never needs put on airs for. I want to be the kind of man he can confess his feelings to, even the ugly ones. That I’ve succeeded occasionally and seen glimpses of his heart, the parts of himself he’s held in check for so long, is immensely gratifying. Every day I am not with him feels like an ache that’s slowly growing, until it will carve out a hollow core inside me. But perhaps the next time we meet, I’ll have become someone he won’t even hesitate to lean on. Whoever his true love is, I hope they know what fortune they have. I know I certainly do.
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Let's look at Glory's entry.]
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Glory is, in the simplest terms, the greatest gift I’ve ever given to this family. It isn’t fair to take credit for that, and I know it, but I don’t think even she knows why I suggested it to her in the first place. Of course, I felt something in her that resonated with me; call us “kindred spirits” if you like. Of course, I wanted to fill that emptiness she felt. I love her, as my most trusted friend, as my sister, as my lover. But up until recently, I never thought of myself as having a future where I would be part of anyone’s family, not even my own. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust: thus was my fate, eventually. There’s no coming back from such a death, and if Vergil wouldn’t accept me anymore, my soul would just disappear. And I know all too well the damage that would have done. So, I made a contingency plan. Someone to take my place, to mend the hurt, to keep the rest of us fools together. An insurance policy, if you will. Glory was it. In a way, we were both outsiders to the family, but important in our own ways, so I thought she would be perfect. And she was, just not in the way I was prepared for. I should have known, after all; it was her love that saved me. I’m sure I’ll be repaying her for the rest of my life… of our life. Not that I mind. She deserves every ounce of love this world, or any other, has to give. I can only hope being part of this family gives her some sense of fulfillment.
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The book reads:
Originally, it was just a game. Even when I learned of what I am, where I came from, my feelings for Dante were like the shallow depths of a much greater sea I refused to wade further into. Oh, I’ve hated him, resented him, wanted to kill him, just as much as Vergil does, but I’m not as attached to those feelings anymore. How easy was it to bring him low, down to my level, when I saw how he looked at me? And he said it himself--I was everything about Vergil that he liked. So things took a different turn; I craved his attention, his affections, and somewhere along the line it became less of a game… it became something else. Something real. When did I start just enjoying myself around him? When did I start thinking of him as another half of my soul, the way twins should be? When did Dante become someone to seek solace in? I know it’s foolish. I know he shies from that kind of vulnerability just as much as Vergil, even moreso, and yet he comforts me. When I was dying, in my quiet moments of grief, I daydreamed of crawling inside his heart and resting there, safe and protected. If Vergil wouldn’t take back this frail human heart, perhaps Dante would.
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[It's just Shrike left MIGHT AS WELL]
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The book reads:
Oh, Shrike. My knight in shining armor. Sometimes I don’t know who I’m more envious of: her, or Nero, when I see the way they look at each other. For all her strengths, her compassion and kindness, I have seen the way she barely holds herself together with jagged, broken pieces, and I wish I could be the glue that pieces them back into one. I worry sometimes that I am not what she needs. But I am, after all, a greedy man. And as long as she will hold me in her arms I cannot bring myself to push her away. I’ll take everything she gives me and hoard it like precious gold, vain thing that I am. I’ll fumble through poems for her. I’ll even write my own clumsy verses, just so I can tell her what she means to me and have it mean something. And when her pieces fall again, I’ll hold her and cry with her. I long to see what she looks like walking down that aisle, robed all in white and satin. It is not that I wish to be the one she walks towards, or that I wish I could be her husband. I can only imagine how happy it will make her, and I want to be there to see her flourish, in all her radiant beauty. I want to watch it closely, and cherish the memory for the rest of my days. Like I said: I am, after all, a greedy man.
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