Work Text:
The Narrator:
You lean in and kiss her.
Voice of the Hero:
And...?
The Narrator:
Sighs. And she reciprocates. Enthusiastically.
Voice of the Smitten:
Come now, my good man. This is the big moment! You can do better than that.
The Narrator:
No, in fact, I can't. I really can't.
Voice of the Hero:
And why not? You weren't squeamish about all the limb-ripping and the neck-tearing, why draw the line here?
The Narrator:
This, right here? This is abhorrent, this is nauseating, I'm going to be sick—you are literally committing genocide and you want me to try and pretend like what you are doing is some... beautiful climax of love and passion? I refuse.
The Narrator:
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get myself a stiff drink to try to knock myself unconscious before everything ends. I hope the two of you 'star-crossed lovers' die screaming in agony. Goodbye.
Voice of the Hero:
...well, he didn't have to be so rude about it.
Voice of the Smitten:
He just doesn't understand—refuses to, even! I would pity him if he hadn't constantly been trying to tear us and our beloved apart. What a sad, sad little man.
Voice of the Hero:
I do too, but... now what? I, for one, still want to know how it feels to kiss her.
Voice of the Smitten:
Exercise your imagination! I can feel her brilliance radiating upon us, her—
The Shifting Mound:
Your mouths are interlocked.
Voice of the Hero:
Whoa. Who said that?
Voice of the Smitten:
I... I don't know. She feels so familiar... as if she's our beloved. But she can't be... and yet...
The Shifting Mound:
Her warm breath hits your skin, and she clutches at you, pulling you just a little bit closer to her. She's scared. Scared that this moment will end, scared that when the two of you pull apart, you will never come together like this again.
Voice of the Smitten:
No! We cannot let her be hurt again! Quickly, hold her tighter, tell her we love her! No, show her that we love her!
Voice of the Hero:
I'm, uh... not entirely sure if it's appropriate for us to watch—
The Shifting Mound:
In turn, you wrap your arms around her and tightly grip the last lines of thorns wrapped around her chest. Despite the stabbing pain, despite the blood that you have shed and continue to shed, you know this is right. You feel deep in your soul that this is what you are meant to do. This is where you are meant to be, right now, in this moment.
The Shifting Mound:
You tear the torturous twine in two, pulling a gasp from her. Your mouths are separated for the first time in what feels like years. But she is still pressed against you. She does not want to let go.
The Shifting Mound:
She speaks breathlessly, hesitantly, her eyes pointed away.
The Thorn:
I... I don't think, um...
Voice of the Smitten:
We pushed her too far! Apologize, right now! She needs to feel safer than ever before!
Voice of the Hero:
Wait, hold on a moment. I don't think it's that bad.
The Shifting Mound:
After catching her breath, she can finally meet your gaze again.
The Thorn:
I... let's... let's keep going somewhere else, okay? I don't want to do this... here. Please.
The Shifting Mound:
She grips you a little more tightly, a little more desperately.
Voice of the Hero:
See?
Voice of the Smitten:
Of course! And now that we have torn off the last of her painful prison, we should wrap her in something far more comfortable, soothing. Give her your shirt!
Voice of the Hero:
We have a shirt? For how long have we had that?
The Shifting Mound:
You nod at her and take her hands in one of your own. Her worried eyes turn bemused as you carefully take off your shirt, then shy and affectionate when you hold it out to her.
The Thorn:
Thanks.
The Shifting Mound:
She quickly puts it on, letting go of your hand for only a second in the process.
Voice of the Smitten:
She cannot bear to be away from us for even a moment! Oh, my love! We will never leave you again, I promise!
Voice of the Hero:
He's going to keep going on like this forever, isn't he? I almost miss His smarmy voice.
The Shifting Mound:
Her hand comes up to cup your head, bringing your gaze down to meet hers.
The Thorn:
Hey... my eyes are down here.
The Shifting Mound:
She wears a small, teasing smile, hiding her fear behind it.
- "Forgive me, it is difficult for me to stare at the sun for too long."
- "You don't have to worry. I will never lose sight of you again."
- "My bad. I tend to get lost in my thoughts. I'll try and do better for you."
- [Kiss her again.]
The Shifting Mound:
This time, it is brief. But her smile has grown, and the fear has receded.
Voice of the Smitten:
If only I could convey the depths of our feelings for her... if she could only understand, she would never have to worry again! Perhaps... if I concentrate hard enough...
Voice of the Hero:
Hey, uh, you might want to calm down a bit there.
Voice of the Smitten:
Beloved... hear me... please...!
Voice of the Smitten:
A long scream of exertion.
Voice of the Hero:
Huh. He passed out. I didn't even know we could do that.
The Shifting Mound:
She pulls on your arm, beginning to walk towards the staircase. The many cuts in her body have only just begun to heal, some of them still bleed, but she doesn't mind. She walks with far less weight on her shoulders.
Voice of the Hero:
Yeah, she's got the right idea. Let's get out of here and pick this up somewhere more comfortable.
The Shifting Mound:
You didn't even need him to tell you that. When she looks back at you, her smile is all that you need to keep you striding forward.
Voice of the Hero:
Oi! I'm just trying to help out! Leave a guy alone, would ya?