Pain wracks your body, but still, you struggle to stand. You have to defeat Medea, the warlock with bright red eyes who stands before you. You have to protect the village. You have to save your brother.
She glances at where your brother has fallen. "How pitiful... a warlock tortured to death by the power of corruption. But there is one way. A certain witch can remove his curse."
Immediately, you understand. "If you put it that way... will you remove Hugh's curse if I defeat you?"
"Perhaps... so now, how about putting in a little more effort?"
You let out a swear, frustration coursing through your veins as you launch another attack at her. She easily fends it off.
"Oh?" She smirks. "Is this everything you've got? Pathetic."
She blasts her own attack at you, as you cry out in pain and collapse. Get up, you tell yourself. You have to keep fighting.
"If you keep wasting time, your brother will die."
"....."
"You're weak! How can you hope to change your fate with so little power?"
"Damn it..."
She isn't wrong. This is everything you have, and it's still not enough. And so, despite knowing you shouldn't, a part of you can't help but lament. (If only I could also control the power of corruption...)
And then, it's as if you're in a dream. In the recesses of your mind, your blood—a voice echoes.
I have heeded your call. Answer me. Why do you seek power?
(I... I want the power to change my own destiny.)
Change your destiny? A good answer. Feel my power running through you then, o he who tries to change his destiny.
Whether you can master it, or whether you are consumed by it... all is up to you now. You are now—
—capable of deciding your own fate.
With that, a surge of emotions rushes through you. Anger, hate, sorrow... they assail you as if you're in a waking nightmare. Crying for vengeance, bloody justice; gushing into your heart; compelling you to destroy everything you set your eyes on. If you let your guard down for even a moment, they'll take a hold of you.
But these emotions are not yours. You have never been defined by hatred, and you have no intention of starting now. You won't lose. Not to something as petty as this.
If your fate is to succumb, you will defy your destiny. That is the path you've chosen.
Through the haze of the pain that wracks your head and heart, Medea speaks.
[ he's about to quip back when the force of the memory hits him. his own emotions are no longer muted in any particular way, even if he is nicer than usual, and he feels chad's like they are his own, familiar but dressed very differently.
power, fate, family... when he's pulled back to reality, dimitri staggers slightly at the change, breathing in to steady himself in silence for a moment. ]
[ It's sort of... painful to see these things across all the dorm heads. He had resolved not to feel a great sympathy for them when he'd arrived, or for anyone else, but for them not to recognize their own pasts—it must be scary, the enormity of their own emotions with no context behind them.
His voice is softer than usual. ]
...A lost memory. Perhaps it was looking for the one who dreamed it.
...You are oddly reluctant to accept concern when you were ready to make sure I survived. [ even after he like, threatened to beat him up? or kill him? ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Oh, it's you.
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It is I. [ ... ] Am I interrupting you?
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Am I interrupting you?
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[ which he is not, he just likes being outside, even if he should probably still be in bed.
also jan give me a memory ]
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[but then waow memory!
Pain wracks your body, but still, you struggle to stand. You have to defeat Medea, the warlock with bright red eyes who stands before you. You have to protect the village. You have to save your brother.
She glances at where your brother has fallen. "How pitiful... a warlock tortured to death by the power of corruption. But there is one way. A certain witch can remove his curse."
Immediately, you understand. "If you put it that way... will you remove Hugh's curse if I defeat you?"
"Perhaps... so now, how about putting in a little more effort?"
You let out a swear, frustration coursing through your veins as you launch another attack at her. She easily fends it off.
"Oh?" She smirks. "Is this everything you've got? Pathetic."
She blasts her own attack at you, as you cry out in pain and collapse. Get up, you tell yourself. You have to keep fighting.
"If you keep wasting time, your brother will die."
"....."
"You're weak! How can you hope to change your fate with so little power?"
"Damn it..."
She isn't wrong. This is everything you have, and it's still not enough. And so, despite knowing you shouldn't, a part of you can't help but lament. (If only I could also control the power of corruption...)
And then, it's as if you're in a dream. In the recesses of your mind, your blood—a voice echoes.
I have heeded your call. Answer me. Why do you seek power?
(I... I want the power to change my own destiny.)
Change your destiny? A good answer. Feel my power running through you then, o he who tries to change his destiny.
Whether you can master it, or whether you are consumed by it... all is up to you now. You are now—
—capable of deciding your own fate.
With that, a surge of emotions rushes through you. Anger, hate, sorrow... they assail you as if you're in a waking nightmare. Crying for vengeance, bloody justice; gushing into your heart; compelling you to destroy everything you set your eyes on. If you let your guard down for even a moment, they'll take a hold of you.
But these emotions are not yours. You have never been defined by hatred, and you have no intention of starting now. You won't lose. Not to something as petty as this.
If your fate is to succumb, you will defy your destiny. That is the path you've chosen.
Through the haze of the pain that wracks your head and heart, Medea speaks.
"You've made me wait long enough."]
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power, fate, family... when he's pulled back to reality, dimitri staggers slightly at the change, breathing in to steady himself in silence for a moment. ]
...Did you see that?
[ dorm head memories are confusing. ]
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I... What was that?
[he stares at a random point on the ground, eyes wide—honestly, it's probably more emotional than he's ever looked here.]
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His voice is softer than usual. ]
...A lost memory. Perhaps it was looking for the one who dreamed it.
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his hand goes up to grip the pocket watch that hangs from his neck.]
... Maybe. I'll admit I don't understand what's going on.
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He waits for Chad to collect himself a bit before responding. ]
That is a running trend here.
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he sighs.]
Yes, it looks that way.
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...Are you all right? Even if it didn't make sense to you, it was [ ... ] a stressful moment.
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[if anything, he's surprised that dimitri is asking after his well-being??]
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still, while his gruffness is not fake, neither is this side of him. ]
That is not exactly something under your control, or mine.
[ worrying just happens, sometimes. ]
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Then consider this permission to try, and I won't take any offence.
[he prefers the dimitri who made threats instead of this, please.]
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Does your grousing ever actually get anyone to stop? Seems quite the pointless effort.
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he looks away and sighs. he's so tired.]
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Most times I feel that people are invested in their own survival as well.
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[ also dimitri obviously doesn't know what self-care is, so no. ]
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The question still stands.