Fool's Adventures: A Demon's Souls/Buffy the Vampire Slayer Quest

"No. You will wait for now." Your dulcet tones tear into the woman before you, her expression dropping. Her posture crumples inward. Interestingly, however, Annie's retreat quickly halts. Then it reverses and she recovers. There is a bright spark lighting her eyes. It would appear she understands why you did this, and you see her temper her eagerness. Learning what you want in a servant. Good. It would be a waste for her to not understand why I wish to wait.

Giving her a nod of imitated approval you turn to the central circle, gesturing with your upper right hand for her to follow. For this first step in your task you will need her near. You place the Gauntlet in the circle and hum familiar notes, weaving magic in the air with your Soul. In that magic you shape an echo or hole, of a kind, around Annie where she stands next to you. Like a mold.

Your goal is to align the Gauntlet to her Soul in a way it was never meant to. Concealed and "sheathed" so that it may be "drawn" by her will. Obviously such a thing is something the device was never meant to do and thus will take some time, but will also provide you such a useful tool. This, and the many other things you wish to do will take much time however.

Your progress is stymied the first day, much like you expected it would be. You are focusing on how to remove the device from your servant, at which point you will give it to her to wear and figure out the other pieces from there. Staying home like this also lets you watch your servant with the periphery of your attention when she is not always close to you. Sometimes you talk a little about other things in her world, like the names of the days.

But your focus is the weapon and as you probe, it unfolds before your mind's eye. A lattice of well thought-out construction and magical resonance which sparks and rumbles like thunder. You experience no frustration at its recalcitrant responses. These are just the tiniest of probes after all-- Cold. The stone floor is cold. Why am I on the floor? You are bleary. Just waking. But you don't sleep. This is…

Howling winds scour a plane of Fog, ripping through a hole that is You as a distant light burns out.

Leaving you.

Alone.

Collapsing inward on yourself. Your hunger for Souls is eating you. The howling gap unspooling your mind like an ancient rotten tapestry. You are no longer yourself, you can feel it all slipping away. Abandoning you. Leaving you.

Alone.

Alone but for the chewing.

Walls you can't place spin in your vision as it fills with runnels of dark fluid. You. You can't be amidst the howling. The chewing is eating you. Alive. Your body, a distant twitching maggot thing, flails like a mad creature, slamming it's limbs into the hard floor. Stone shards glitter in the faint weird-light of shuddering magic streams, arcing gracefully in the air.

There is a tone of bells and flutes and lesser unknown things building within them.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" You mirror that rising tone in a scream of your Soul. The stone is smashing at your face, over and over and over. You can feel them both cracking. You can hear the little tinkle-cracks of your fingers cracking and flaking.

Then you are that maggot body, crushed and blasted, scoured in the depths of your Soul. Amidst your distortion and confusion and that damnable howling, you feel her. You don't know who she is. But she's close now. You reach out, scrambling along the cold floor towards the light. You are desperate for anything to save you from the gnawing pit in your Soul. You can hear it chewing, in your brain.

That's what the howling is. You. Shrieking in your mind as you eat yourself to dissolution like so much dust.

Oh, that's why my fingers are breaking. You think, barely coherent as the skin of your fingers shatters against your face and you struggle towards her. You can't hear anything but the howling and the chewing. Can't feel anything but her Soul. Your vision is full of her face surrounded by red, the absolute horror on it a mirror for your own. That… pushes you towards wholeness again.

You shouldn't feel.

Around the blackness you see a hand, your hand, reach out to the woman. She is already cradling you and grasps it frantically with one of hers. You think she's speaking but you can't hear her over the sounds in your head. It is not enough. Wrapping your arms around her you pull her close. You would be looming over her if the indescribable feelings you were suffering were not making you crumple inward.

That makes you remember. Annie. This is Annie.

What you have left and have regained flows outward then in a Fog. Swallowing the room and sending it to non-reality. Within her you see it. The Cup. You… where did it come from again? You don't remember. It doesn't matter. You drink of it, ripping magic from the malevolent sea all around you beyond the glittering walls.

You make a whirlpool in it, such is your hunger. As you drink you also see out of her eyes.

She can't hear anything either, not over your screaming and… sobbing. Without tears except for the blood dripping from the cuts all over your face. Her horror and primordial fear is all around you. She can't look away from your inhumanly twisted expression as you huddle around her, your mantle enveloping you both in a sea of cloth.

You are taking from the Hellmouth, you remember what it is now, so quickly that the strain on Annie's Soul makes her slowly fold in half around you. Weighed down by fatigue of an unnatural cause, shielding you with her body.

Sanity returns to you as the chewing is satiated and the hole filled. You are grasping her so tightly you are nearly crushing her. You can hear her bones creaking and her harsh breathing. Her heart is thunder against your chest. She is murmuring something you can't hear as she caresses your hair. You blink in a lack of understanding.

Blink again. You aren't screaming any more. The howling is gone. That's how you can hear. You can feel your rough, injured skin held in her hand. What happened? You… you know the answer. But your mind skitters over it like a frightened insect. You turn to her, hair brushing against her… blouse, yes it's a blouse.

...ck-ck-sk-clatter.

You try to speak and a clatter of gears and porcelain shards jams your throat. Seizing briefly you push to the side in her arms, leaning over and coughing. Dust, white shards and little twisted pieces of bronze fall out with little pitter-patters and clinks. That...

"L-Latria… oh god. Please. What's wrong?!" Annie's voice is frantic, her breath choppy and staccato. More so than when she found you after fighting the Rat King. Her arms tighten around you, pulling you close. You are so… off-balance that you can only loll like a broken doll in her arms. You blink at her blearily, your head resting against her arms weakly. You register that blink from two perspectives and it finishes something in your mind that was already happening.

The world slides back into place with a shudder. You are still wrapped around her, but your mind is yours again. Shaky, resting on the wobbly feet of a newborn foal, but yours. Awake, instead of locked in a dream of hunger. Raising a hand slowly you see your wounds are less than you thought. Looking around the magic you thought you saw flickering with weird-light is not. It is calm. A hallucination.

I should not get those. But you know what caused it...

You try to talk again, and choke as your mouth flaps loosely. Shaking your head and pulling away from Annie you try again. Trying to say something else. Not the… the thing which has happened.

"Annie…" Your voice is still sweet, but it is roughend, like sand in gears. Her expression brightens, the fear of loss retreating for now at the sound. Her arms shift around you as she moves, trying to get you into a more comfortable position. Almost reclining against her you push through the obstructions and continue speaking.

"I'm okay...Day?" You ask, and then swallow, feeling grit flow down your throat. She looks at you, concern still burning in her expression as parts of it soften with care and worry.

"It's Sunday, my Lady." She says, her voice trembling with fear, relief and caution. You listen to it and try to identify the gap in your memory. It was Friday morning the last time you remember something. You know it from talking to her. You aren't… sure what to make of that. You've never lost memory before that you can remember. But…

You shudder away from the thing lurking in your thoughts. Your grip tightens on her hand, your joints creaking. That draws you to the flow of energy you are still taking from her. It takes you a moment but you keep it at the slow flow it is right now, underpinning your thoughts and pushing them up into a vaguely sensible structure.

"Latria, my Lady?" You look up at her voice reaching you again. What? That… what's…? You are so… off balance you can't focus. You look at her, tracing out the lines of cold worry eating at her features and thoughts. The consequences of what has happened… it robs you of so much.

"Still here." You say, waving one hand limply. Then you gather your feet under you and push up slowly. Sensing what you are trying to do, Annie stands as well and holds you carefully. You wobble and almost fall forward, unbalanced, before she catches you. With your left arms holding her right and you leaning on her you walk, very slowly, towards the door. Like an old woman, you can feel your joints in your legs creaking.

With your mantle trailing along after you both, you pass through the sanctum wards. Magical sensation pricks at your mind, and it does not flinch. One thing working as it should be. Satisfaction flows through you. When you look out at what you can sense you can feel the sun is about to rise. Reaching out with your lower right hand as you walk you carefully guide yourself down the stairs, Annie supporting you faithfully.

You can almost hear the agitated murmur of her thoughts. You will explain to her, it would not do for this state of hers to continue, but first you need some things. So, slowly, you help her help you down the stairs. You have to pause for a moment to catch your breath on the balcony, parts of your mind recoiling from other portions which radiate with unknowable things.

"Come on, my Lady, you can make it." Annie says, right before she pulls you up via the grip you have on her right arm and pulls you close. You follow along with her as she helps you down the stairs to the entrance hall. Good, she's figured out what I wanted. Good.

You both cross the entrance hall, heading for the dining table, with your steps becoming more confident as you sup on the Hellmouth and the things in your head are pushed back. Slowly Annie guides you to the head of the table, where you seat yourself. Your breath leaves you as you settle in the chair. Letting go of her, slowly so you don't distress her further, you then raise one of your hands and gesture.

"Drinks." You say. She hops to the task instantly, almost before you can get the word out, channeling her frantic energy into fulfilling your wishes. You wait for her, listening quietly to the clatters and rapid footsteps as she moves around in the kitchen. The things in your head you try to ignore. Your posture is one a mortal might call pained, partly sprawled in your seat and with your hands hanging over the arms, far from anything they might accidentally touch.

But you are not truly pained. Instead you are… troubled. Such a rare thing for you. The last time you can remember it was when you were falling. That is the most similar. And before that it was at least a century and a particularly crafty Slayer of Demons. But this is far far worse… what will I do? Footsteps almost trot back towards you. Turning your head left you see Annie come around the corner and approach.

Her expression is intense, serious as she focuses on the tall crystal carved goblet in her hand, rimmed in metal. Where did she get that? You wonder idly. As that flits away she goes to hold out the goblet for you. Then she hesitates when she sees your hands. You glance at them and then at her. She seems aggrieved, worrying at her lip with her teeth.

You raise a lower hand, which is not really damaged and gesture for her to give it to you. Her silent relief is immediate and extremely obvious. Holding the glass goblet carefully, you take a drink of the berry flavored concoction within. It washes through and clears the grit and crunching in your throat, delicate mechanisms being pushed back into place. Healing begins. Acceptable.

You look at her, nervously standing there, worrying at her lip and wringing her hands. Her eyes won't meet yours. You gesture for her to sit at your left hand.

"Sit." You say, and take another drink. Annie pulls out the chair with a thunk, her decorum in tatters. Her attention is focused wholly on you, her gaze wide with stress. You also see several blackish stains on her blouse and around her neck from where your bleeding face must have rubbed against them. You take a moment to organize your mind and meet the horrible knowledge inside it directly.

You know what happened, and you push through the instinctive flinch to tell your most loyal, and likely only remaining servant.

"The impossible has happened." Your voice is clear, flute like and quiet. You see Annie lean subtly closer as you continue. "Not the loose 'impossible' mortals favor, but the actually impossible. A paradox, of choice. The…" Your voice stops, weighted by the sheer fact of what has happened.

But you push through it. "What should never have been, an impossible choice, now is." Your voice is hollow, empty in a way it has never been when you have spoken before. It… reflects, your lack of direction.

After all, what will you do, when it has been rendered moot?

"...What happened?" The throaty voice of Annie peels you away from your thoughts. You look at her and your expression becomes truly confused as you speak of the impossible.

"The Old One, is dead."


And that's that. What will you do alongside Annie now?

[] You will… stay close to her and try… to regain your bearings.

[] You… there must be something you can find...if you just peer through the boundaries with her.

[] You… you will… will work on the Gauntlet with her.

---

Muah hah hah! So, something literally impossible in Demon's Souls lore has happened. The cycle is over and the Scourge can never come again. And now the Idol has to pick up the pieces.

One little hungry step at a time.

Vote will close at 7:00 PM UTC, today July 19th.

E: Doh! I'm a moron! Super mega thanks to @Pandemonious Ivy for helping me with this chapter.