The blood was going to stain her clothes forever, she just knew it.
Sally scowled at the mess she was kneeling in, soaking into her favorite pants and creating splattered blotches against her favorite blouse. It was sticky against her skin, the metallic smell making her think of aged copper and rusted spoons. No number of laundromat visits would ever get rid of the smell, she was sure of it.
...in hindsight dressing up in her best clothes for a sacrificial ritual was not one of the smartest things she'd done.
But if there was one thing she knew after dozens of job interviews, it was
always dress your best. First impressions mattered, especially when it came to once in a lifetime opportunities.
And if the ritual worked and she got everything she ever wanted? Then she could get her hands on hundreds, no
thousands of clothes better than them. Clothes studded with jewels and lined with gold and diamonds. Clothes made of the finest silks and hand-woven by the greatest designers in the Empire. Clothes that would be the envy of
everyone, even the Emperor himself!
She smiled and lost herself to the fantasy. Of infinite riches, infinite opportunities, and a debt-free life without worries of any kind. No fears, no burdens. Just pure relaxation until the day she dies.
Speaking of burdens –
She checked the kid's pulse, noting with a small amount of worry that he was still.
Too still. Only the faint flickering of the candles from his breath gave away the fact that he still breathed. Without it he looked damn near like a corpse, bleeding out like a stuck pig.
"Shit." Quickly -- trying not to disturb the symbols she already wrote -- she wrapped the kid's arms up with gauze. It stopped the bleeding but only barely, the gauze quickly dying itself red and becoming wet to the touch.
If Sally had to guess he had about five minutes left. Less if she kept cutting him up.
"Ugh." She grimaced at the mess, shifting awkwardly when it soaked into her pants. "Should burn this place to the ground after. Ain't no way am I gonna clean this up."
With a leftover rag she wiped up a small pool of blood that was dangerously close to messing up some of the symbols. It led to her leaning over the kid's body, her face just inches from his, giving her a perfect view of his pale complexion and the sweat running down his face. She could see his eyes flickering underneath his eyelids, like he was lost in a nightmare.
He looked small, almost babyish.
Helpless in a way that made her distinctly uncomfortable.
She looked away. It was a crying shame it had to come to this, her kneeling in a kid's blood while painting ritualistic symbols around his unconscious body. Never,
ever would Sally have considered her life falling to this point but – well.
It was either her or him.
And she had far too much to live for. Places to see, goals to accomplish, a
life to
live instead of spending every waking moment tired and sore and just --
existing. Never happy, never satisfied, just
there. Taking up space and going through the motions.
"Fuck that."
That wasn't a life Sally was willing to live. Not anymore. She'd rather
die -- or kill someone else. Preferably the latter.
At least the kid wasn't awake to feel it. A few sleeping pills mixed in with his cereal solved that problem fast. Didn't so much as twitch while she was setting up the circle, not even when she was slicing him up.
...it was bit worrying, but he was still breathing and that was all that mattered. A little brain damage wouldn't hurt; might even make things easier on her. The Gods knew the kid wasn't easy to deal with on the best days.
And hell, worse comes to worse and the ritual didn't work out? One less burden to take care of, one less mouth to feed. She could finally have the apartment to herself again.
If people started asking questions -- which they wouldn't -- she could always claim it was an accident. The kid got into her pills while she was sleeping, she didn't realize it until it was too late,
honestly officer I can't believe something like this would happen! Maybe throw in a few tears and faint a bit, that always seemed to do the trick.
The cuts'll be a problem, but she could just spin some story about him being bullied at school or whatever. Bullied kids're always cutting themselves up, right? Should be fine.
The blood made faded red streaks across the hardwood flooring as she carefully painted out the last of the ritual circle, checking back at the crumbling old book to make sure everything was going to plan. The squiggles and shapes she drew almost looked like they were dancing in the flickering candle light; a sign that she was getting it right.
When she was done she stood up and carefully nudged the kid into place with her foot, making sure his arms and legs were splayed out the way the diagram showed her.
With one last deep breath –
Gods she hoped this worked – she let the words take over.
[̵̢̭͈̦̫̥̮̞̔̈́ͩ͘͠Dͭ̾͋ͩ҉҉̶̨̯̱̹͙̭̳̬͖̝̳̟͇͕̙̘͖̮͜Ę̶̴͚̳̦̗̗̭͕̝͗͊̎̐̏̓ͫ́̕Ǎ̛̹͍̘̤ͥͫ̾ͫͣ͘͝Ḏ̷̳͕̻̝̯̦͕̠͕̙̲͔̞̹̍̎̔ͥ̒̑͋̃̊̍͐̍ͧ̒ͤ̕͜͠ ̵̛͖̼̱̣̠̥̻̮̓̾̍̂͌́͂̒ͨ͜͝͝D̯͕̩̳͉̘̥̰̬͙͓̺̱̫̻̱͚̔̈̑ͪͧ̓͋ͣ̏̄̌͜͡͠͝ͅR̶̶̗̖̱̩͉͓̗͚͋ͨ̇͌͡Ȩ̡͚̱͙̱̥̃̿͊ͭ̉͌͐̒̎̃̀͞A̷̵̞̠̝͙̲̗͉̬̭̰̞͇̠̗̣̘̲̒̉̅̇̈̍ͯ̂ͥ́̚͢͝M̍̄̅̂͗̔̑̽ͭ͐̂ͤͤ͋ͫ̾͠͏̧̜̰͓̰̝̫̪̲͙̠̦̝̗̞̳̗͢Ė̽̽͒̅ͧ͗ͥ͋̂͆ͥ͏̷̛̻̜̠̙͞R̵̖͚͉̬͙̩̯̦̆ͮ͂ͮ̓̈ͩͨͭ̕͘͘͠]̶̛͕̮̦͇̪͚̾ͦͯ͌ͧͦ̀́
The two words --
were they only two words? -- made her choke. Knives scrapped the inside of her throat, slicing through her tongue and scraping at her teeth. Her skin felt bruised, her bones weak and ready to snap. Exhaustion carried her to the floor, nearly causing her to drop her book. Thinking felt like too much, too raw, there was
so much information and it
never stopped --
[̴̨̛͓̞̼̫̟͓̜̙͈̪ͭ̅̅͆̊̊̽̚Ḇ̸̷̛͖͉͎͕̲͈͕̯̱̯̜̖̯̭̫̓̑͑ͮ͋͌̽̇̑͆̀R̹̟̼̟̝̬͉͕̟͉͓͈̦̩ͫͨ̔̇ͫ̾͒̚͟͡͡Ô͇͖̻̣̰͈̗̖̳̯̠͈͈̫͂ͨͫ̆̽͋͋̑̄ͮͧ̈̏ͤ͆͊͘͢͡K̨̅̿ͭͣ̔ͤͫ͆ͥ̋̽ͤ̓͑̃͏̧̩͙̼̭͖͈̞͓͚̟̯̤͖̩̘̲̕͝E̷̶̮̙̣͓̰̳̭̖̻͇͇̗̻͉̹̯ͧͣͩ̐̓ͧ̽͂ͅN̴̽ͤͬ͂ͧ̀̾͂́̄ͦͪ̐̀͏̷͙̻̰̖̱̮̹̤̻̙̭̤̖̻̣̤͓̖ͅ ̶̿̆̉͋̿̓҉̡̰̱̣̰L̨͕͉͙̤͇͙̻̣̯̬̞͖̗͌ͦ̂ͩ̓̒̈ͭ̓ͥ̐E͕̫͔͙̠̗̯̹͚̱̜̺̯̬̦͇͚͙̜̎̑ͩ̓͂̔̅ͮ̀̐͆̆̒̌͢A̴̗̠̭̳̳͙̪͈ͯ͂̚̕D̵̢͓͓͓͈̝̔͊͊̐̽̓ͭͬͦ̀͑̃̽͂́͠E̛̯͙͔͚͉̻̥͖̺͋̄̉̿̿͊͐̽̽ͬ̅ͤͯͯ̇̂͛ͬ͟͝ͅR̡͖̥̼̼̜̜̾ͧ̎ͫ̐̅͑̽ͯ͊̃̒́̚̕̕͠]̴̸̰̯̫̖͉̥̹͓̮ͯ̎̃͑̓͐͑͒̓̋ͣͬ̒͋̚͘͢
Her vision blurred. Heaving, violent sobs wracked her body, a tidal wave of
grief sorrow hatred loathing fear despair filling her very soul. Loss on a level she had never before experienced, an all encompassing hopelessness that made her want to give up and just
die.
[̡͉̗̟̘͇̭̮͙ͧ̉̽̽͌ͫ̅́͋ͬ͊̕͢͜L̸̶͈̜̹̱̫̱͚̙̱̺̩̺̬̲̘͇̗̱̋̍ͪ̾̆ͮͨ̋̽͋̎͗͊̏ͧ́O͖̖̘̱͓̬͍͚͕̰̮̹͕̩̅̍̌̿ͬ̏̇ͮ͋̀̀́V̤̗̦̦͖̮̘̝̥͓̬ͦͦ̏ͬ͂ͦ̾ͤ͗ͨ́͝E̎̊͑ͣ͂ͦ́͝͏̺̙̼̥͍͓̮̖̬̣̻R̸̸̢̡͈̮͇̫̤̦͖̹̦̫̋̐̍̾̆̓̓͞ ̶̢ͧ͆́̉̽̆̍̋͊҉͏̪̬̥̖̗̻̹͓͍̠O̸̹̗̼̤̟̱̘̮̹̳̹͉̺̺̹ͥ̆ͤ̋ͨͥ͗̎̈́́̽̽͂ͤͮ̏ͬ̑͠F̶̴͓͍̩̲̆̇̀̌̐ͫ̃̊͑̅̀́̎͛̒̓͆͂̃͜͡ ̋̋̑̒̄ͬ͂̽ͧ̊͠҉͚͍͚̙̳̹̯̙͉̗̪T̐́̎̽ͬ͏̷̶̛̮̮̗̪͚̭̜͔̺͚͚̪͚̬͍͘H̸ͥ̍͂̈̓̌̐ͦ͌ͬ͑ͦ͡͏͈͖̼̹̤͈͕͚̯̣͉̩͖̪̙E̷̶̢͕̥̖̫̟͕̲̝̳͖̖̙̺̣͙̣ͭ͆͗̌̎ͅͅͅ ̷̬̣̠͖̤̳͓̙͙̗̬͖̞̬̹͎̞̙̎̊̔̒̇͞ͅB̿͗͛̂ͪ̃̿̅҉͈̥̖̟̱̲̀͝͠L͖̰̞̯̭̤͓̺̘̼̲̫̺̠̟͍̜̗͗̾̊̊̑̐̏ͭ͐̇̉ͥ̕͟I̧ͫ͗͋ͮͬ͡҉͖̖̗̩N̷̛̠̭̣͓̟͉͎̤̣̼̺͕̣̋̄̓̒͛ͮ̈̒̒ͫ̈́̋ͧͪ͂͛͜ͅD̍ͣ͊ͧ҉̧͚̰̭̜̠͉̞̻̺̞̲̞̹͚̞̭̦ͅ]̢̛̠̯̖̯̥̱͖̮̲̪̝̐̎̌ͫ̀ͧͫ̔̄ͦͮ̒ͤ̔͘͜͝
The eyes were everywhere. Watching, waiting, its hands never leaving. She could never escape even if she tried, even if she died, it would follow her into the void itself and drag her into its embrace until she
gave in --
[̵̨̡̛͇̮͕͚͙̞͎͊͆ͧ̅̎̀̑͆̌̂ͪͪͩI̸͙͓̟̠̹̜̜̲̣̲̳͈̥̦̳͇ͨ͂͌̊́̕͜͜ ̘̣̗̹͉͈̘̲̫̼̦̼̩̟̪̰̻̊̊͂͗͊ͭ̉ͧ̽̊ͨ̋͠͞ͅR̷̼̩̘͚̝̬̙͈̙̜͕̮̺̻̟͕ͪͮ̀̏͢Ę̴̸̜͕͖͕̼͇̝͓͉̥̗͚͙͐͂̓͐̃́̈́̋̆ͨͮ̄ͫ͘ͅQ̴̸̲̹̞̻͓̞̟͕̘ͦ̅̋̉ͦͥ̊̑͒̎̓̿͊̒͌͞͠Ų̹͙̗̠͙̖̆̊̓̄ͤ͠I̵̵̢̭̱̮̮͔̭͈͕̊̒̈́̒̓ͫ͆ͣR̴̛̗͈͉̱̙̣̟̖̹͊͒ͦ̄̀͛̈́̀̅́̍̂ͫ́́̚̚̚͢Ẹ̴̴̞̻̪̘̻̤̻̱̠̠̼̍̊͋̽ͭͭͧͯͩ͐̈́̇̍̋͊̋͠]̡̱̞͇̬͈͉̝͙͙̝̞̩͚̲̭̭̲̱̫͗ͩ̇̌̑̑̊ͧͥ̐ͨ̃̆̈̍͟͟͡͡
But she pushed on.
[̴̴̡͖̥̣͎̘̻͙̺̗͌̆ͨ͂͗ͯ͗̃̏̾͋͑ͪ̄̀͝Ë͔̰͉̫́ͩ̅ͧͣ̒̒̌ͪ̿̂͜͜n̴̡̢̗͖̠̖̎ͪ͒ͫ̽̉ͯͣ̍̄̈́̓ͣ̚̚d̳̯̬͇̜̫̰͔͍̻̗͙͉̳̖̣̞͕͆̍̌̍͊͂̎͌̈̾̂̔̀͜͡l̴̵͖̰̘̩̣̙̙̘͈ͤͧͤ̀ͦ̃͆ͦ̓̔ͮ̈̚͘͢͝ͅe̢͙̤̺̱͚̖̦͙͍̱̗̟̹͒̒̐̉̋̌͛ͣ͑̽͂ͨ͋̇ͩ̚͝ṡ̸̰̘̠̘͇̮̺͓̭͚͚̬͔̗̙͙̬͑̓̃̿̑ͤ̇̐̓̆̑̑̌͌́̚͜͝ͅͅs̶͓͈̲̝̩̭͖͇͚̈́̊͛̈̈̈́͑̐͋ͨͦ̓̅̚͜ ̴̛̛̹͍̗̜̻͖͚̭͖̹̭͇̲͍̦͔̰̦̪̓̃͗͐̊͛ͩ̑ͯͧͮ͛̋͊Dͮͯͣ̔͑̆́ͩͧ̀ͭ͏̨͉̱̠͈͓̪͖͓̺͎̬̭̤̠̬̜͟e̞̱̣̜̥͇̱̝̬͈̫ͤ͌̿̈́͂̎̊ͮ̕̕s̴̡̥̟͕̠͇̼̩͙̫̏ͭ̇̾͆̓̓̂ͬͣͮ̄̂i̸̶̴̧̞̣̱͖̝̞̲̥̹̹͓̫͙͎͖͉͉͆̒̍̐̔̅ͫ͐́ͧ̄̐ͬͣͦ̇͝ͅr̵̷͙̙̘̠̪̣͙̘̮̜͖̙͙̫͚̖̖̮̂ͫ̿̄̆ͬ̆́̚ě̵̙͕͙̯̩̮̣̟̗͚̩̹̫͇̹̦̈ͥͯͯ́ͮ̌̄̂̎̽̓ͣ́͡͠s͎̺̯̱̗͖̻̫̯̹͕̩͛̍ͧ̂̏ͪͧͭ́̕͜]̧͍̣̮͔̠̤͉̦̗̤̯̘͉͈̱̩͖ͭͧ̐̏̇ͦ̍̓̓ͩ̏̍̀ͅ
Word after word, she dragged them out of her mouth. Forced herself to withstand the pain.
̴̢̞͎̥͔͓͈̟̻̝̳͓̠̖̃ͩ̂ͨ̆͂ͯ͆ͧ̌̑ͥ̑
̵̲̞̜͔̺̩̟̤̟͙̖̖̮̱ͭ̌̅̋͌͗̀̕͞ͅͅ[̴̳͕̬̫͍̣͚͇̮̖́̐͋ͯ͌̈ͦ̎͗͌̌ͨ̀ͪ̐͊̉ͣ͞A̧͍̤̪̯̼̘͍͕̥̣̝͔͔̫͊̄ͯ͝n̴̨͐̓̾ͨͧ̃̍̀̎́ͤ̿̔͑͂ͨ̒͞͏͖̻̼̙̜d̶̡̨͙̰̭͉̺̲̙͔̱̲̦͚̼̳̥̱͆̒͌͑̐̄ͥͩͬͬ̑̉̿ͨͦ̚͢͞ ̴̵̡̨̠̮̬̥̪̱͙̳͖̫̆̇͗̋͆̍̍̈́͂͛̂̓̊̿̌ͫ̒̕M̓ͭͭ͂͒̾̈́ͭ̈̽҉̴̴̤̠̤̻̀͢ẙ̴̸̛̟̬̪͉͎̣̗̘̻̩̪͔̗̽̎̌ͥ̈́̋͒ͬ̓͢ͅ ̡̨̪̰̭̫͙̪̥͙̺̎̈́̎͐̿͛̊̉ͣͤ̂͆̑̾ͬ̚͢͞B̜̜̟̞͚̳̫̠̬̳̰̫͖̼̙̐̇̃̍ͩ͟ö̫̪̖̥̬͖͈̟̗̜̟̬͈̝͙̪͎̜́̓̉ͯ̋̑̍ͦ͒̅ͫ̅͢͠d̷̨̓͛̿ͥ̓͂͛ͧ͗̔̇҉͖͎̜̼̜̙̬͉͚̤̺͟͢ỹ̶̧̽ͫ̄̔ͧ̈̒ͬͩ̈̍̾͒̄ͣ҉̨̨͚̬̹ ͙̠̳̦͓̺̻̂̋͐ͨͣ́̒̈͛̑͢͢͝W̪̪̺̘͈̗͕̘͇͕̱̳͛ͥ̾̈ͮͤ̔̾͐͒́̆̀́͜͠͠͝ͅi̷̛͓̯͇͕͕̠̱̰͐̍̆͆̑̄̕̕͢l̷̶̙̳̖̬̐̔͗͑͑̄̔͌́ļ̶̭̘̙̫̩̖̿ͯͬ̾͒͆̀ͧ͊̂̏̆̉͑̌͛͘͝ ̷̨̖̜̺̣̥̜͖̣͉̱̪͚̞̜̮̺̊̄ͣ̍͜B̡̟̥̮̱̺̰̮͕͙̺̹̠̥̬͕͈̙̙ͤͩͮ̀ͪ̿ͥͣ̋̊̊͌ͭ͘ĕ̛ͨ͋̓̿͗̈́͑̄ͥ̑̆ͣ̍͂͟͏̫̰̹̗̝̬̻̪̰̼̖̳̹̳̳ͅ ̷̷͚̯̺̬̝̮̝͉͉̱͕̭̺̭̠͇͉̾̽͐ͯ̋̌̑́͜͠T͇̥̪̖͇̹̘̪͓̰͛ͭ̐ͣ́̍̄ͩ̔̈ͪͥͦ͗ͬ̎ͮ̀̚͘͠h̶̺͓̣̳̳̲̪̪̱ͩ̏̓̈́͛͂̃͟͠i̛̦̲̘̹̣̘̙͍̣̼̜̤͋͐͐ͩͣͧ̔͞͠n̷̸̞̰͙͔͐̇ͧ̄ͮ̾͑ͧͯ̂͆̒ͤ̚͘ȇ̺̣͎̹͙̍ͧͤͫ̀͛̑̆ͨ͗̆͊̈́̚͢͠]̨͉̣͇̣̖̪̞̰̺̺͙̔̓͆̋ͮͯͫ̌͗̈́͗̿̃̉̒͒̋̚͡
Until finally.
Finally, it was done --
A small bit of movement, just out of the corner of her eye.
The kid. Waking up, his arms moving sluggishly from within the ritual.
A lone hand, cutting through the blood and symbols. Smudging them.
Breaking the circle.
The image lingered, becoming a small eternity of horror and fear for Sally Shelly. It was last moment she would ever experience before --
You arrive.
Your
existence condenses into itself, folding neatly into the flesh that is your gift. You feel your many senses shut off one by one, replaced with biological processes that, while simple, are no less effective at processing information --
Wait.
You allow yourself several seconds of examination. You analyze the flesh that is your gift; the shape of it, the mechanics of it, the way it senses the world around it.
You know these biological processes. You are familiar with these senses.
A
human.
Goodness! It has been so long since you have come in contact with a human. Such a common species they are -- yet one you have not seen in many, many,
many years. Not since your conflict with your
Other Half.
And to be gifted with the form of one? What a delightful surprise!
...though, you cannot seem to recall much about humans. Your conflict with your
Other Half resulted in many unfortunate loses; your memory was just one of many.
But all is not lost. You can still recall
some information about humans, if not all.
Such as --
[X] Human facial movements, also known as "expressions".
+ Know how to read a human's expression.
+ Can express yourself in a similar capacity.
[X] Human biological processes, also known as "organs".
+ Know how the human body works.
+ Might know how to heal them in a pinch.
Unfortunately your newly gifted human form is limited in terms of what it is capable of processing, otherwise you would further draw upon your human knowledge. Already you can feel your new flesh straining under the weight of your
existence.
The information processing unit -- the "brain" -- is struggling to withstand the knowledge are bringing to bear. The biological engine -- the "heart" -- is threatening to rupture from the powers you regularly control. The essential life fluid -- "blood" -- is evaporating due to your connections with your acolytes and treasures.
At this rate your gift will expire. Soon.
Unacceptable.
Power, knowledge, influence, treasures, and acolytes -- you set them all aside, distancing yourself from your
true existence while also taking care to not remove yourself entirely.
Perhaps there will come an opportunity to expand upon your new form later. Perhaps not. Either way, you will not allow your new form to come to harm.
Your gifted form is limited; it is only polite to limit yourself in turn.
The flesh settles, no longer in danger of expiration-- though the initial damage still remains. You would tap into your
true existence to repair the damage, but you fear that such an action will only solidify your gift's destruction. It would be better to put yourself into stasis until --
"...ugh..."
You make use of the senses known as "sight" and "hearing" and look at the direction of the noise.
A small human lies within your summoning symbol, leaking blood. They are close to expiring --
Wait.
A small human?
You examine the human further and -- no.
This is a
child.
A child that is
bleeding and
hurt and
close to expiration. Who was left to rot surrounded by
their own internal fluids.
Your knowledge of humankind may be fractured, but even you know that harming a human child is an appalling act of sadism and cowardice. To harm one so helpless and reliant on others, to leave them weak and unable to fend for themselves --
Who did this? Was it the gift giver, the owner of your new flesh? Had they hurt their own progeny for the sake of capturing your attention? Disgraced their familial bonds, taken
advantage of their young in order to offer themselves to another?
Your newly gifted flesh twists from the force of your displeasure.
Unacceptable.
[X] Heal the child. Your form may take further damage, but that is a price you are willing to pay.
[X] Alert the authorities. Though you know little, you still know humans care deeply for children.
[X] Stop the leaking and immediately return to stasis. You need to heal before you can heal the child.
[X] Write in... 
