Chapter Text
Everything hurt.
His hands did little to hold together the gaping wounds that’s been opened up on his body, blood oozing out onto the floor, creating a trail of crimson stark against the dark indigo. The scorching pain in his legs screamed for him to slow. He resisted its calling at first, stubbornly moving forward by pushing alongside the pillar before his body shook in warning and finally, finally gave out, shuddering into a halt.
He slumped onto the hard floor with a thud, catching his ragged breath. He stilled, and instantly regretted it as a cascade of sensations washed over him all at once as the adrenaline wore off: exhaustion, pain, dizziness all in tandem. Somehow it was even more unbearable than simply running like he did a moment ago, overexertion making itself known to him at last. Even breathing was a torture in of itself. It felt like he was being suffocated, each breath never enough to alleviate the painful strain on his chest but just enough to make him flail for more like a drowning man. His heart ached as it forced itself to keep pumping rapidly, threatening to burst open at any moment. A metallic taste floods his mouth just then, forcing him to wheeze as something warm was hacked up from his throat.
The cold air around him served little as balm to his ailments. It was more like smoke, really, dense and murky, its hue shifting as the dark clouds above spiraled into the eye of the tempest. A heavy pressure was constant in the atmosphere, weighing itself down on its occupants; like that suffocating feeling before an imminent downpour of rain- except the relief of rain never comes. The only thing remaining being a lingering sense of anxiety and a sinking, sinking feeling that something terrible is about to happen.
His gut twists a little at that thought and he wisely opts to focus on his breathing instead.
(Dusekkar once advised, not to him of course, but to somebody more worthy of sympathy— that letting bad thoughts linger often granted it the power to manifest in real life. It was probably more of a proverb than anything tried and true, but given his life-long bad luck streak, he might as well take a wise wizard’s advice and run with it.)
Little by little, the burning in his lungs ceases. The fog over his mind dissipating as his breathing steadies. Despite the urge to keep resting, he forces himself to stand on wobbly legs; by now he’d learned rare, blissful respites never lasted in a realm like this one. That faint feeling of dread still looming at the back of his mind wouldn’t allow for a meaningful rest, anyway.
He turned and peeked out from behind the pillar he was resting against a moment ago, eyes darting from side to side. In the purple haze everything looked a little blurry, outlines of objects folding over one another and separating again, but from what he could tell, there was no major movements. After a moment’s hesitance, he cautiously steps out from behind the pillar.
He should…he should probably try to find the others.
Something moves in his peripheral vision and disappears the moment his head whips around. Anticipation coils over itself and settles into a familiar, dreadful anxiety in his gut.
A few paces away on the steps of the temple, a distended figure staggers forward, half of what was previously a Robloxian face now rotted away to reveal a malevolent, skeletal grin. In its hand a white star spun around madly, emitting a bright light stark in the mist. It tilts its head to one side at him before it lurched forward, lunging at him.
He was scrambling away before he'd fully processed it, steps clattering across the studded floor. The figure’s murky footsteps followed before coming to a sudden halt. He turned to spot it pull its arm back as the star flickered out from its palm, the light spiraling to converge into the dark tendrils sprouting from its wrist.
He barely managed to dart behind a crumbling wall before the figure rushed past him. Dust kicked up into the air as it skidded to a halt and retracted its arm, shadowy tendrils sinking back and smoothing into skin. It stared at him with its empty eye socket, still grinning as it swerved to face him.
"S-S-SQUIRMING WORM." It cackled. "Stand [-STILL, EYES CLOSED-], wwoonnntttt Y0U? [The showThe show-] must go 0N."
He doesn't even bother trying to decipher what it'd just said, pushing himself off the wall and hastily pulling himself behind the column of a statue. He hopes the thumps in his chest wasn't giving away his location as he held his breath, hands instinctively reaching for his gui. Peering out from the corner, he sees the figure wandering past the wall. Knit up in the moment, he doesn't notice the stray star shooting straight for his head until it’s too late.
White light flashed in his vision before he'd realized. His head instantly exploded with pain as the impact hit him, leaving his ears ringing. He's not even given the chance to escape as a tendril latches onto his arm from behind.
"Please-" he pleads, trying to tug away despite knowing he had not an ounce of strength left, and never will have one that’s adequate to resist the immense force dragging him back in that moment. The mask looked almost mocking despite its perpetual scowl, and as he's thrown to the floor he hears it speak.
"[II'm-m t-telling daaa-d-tElling]-" It laughs in a voice he's heard before.
A crunch sounds out as it stomps onto his skull, then, nothing.
Another performance concluded. From a reasonable standpoint, they know they should be a little more patient about this, but the thing was…
They were pissed, was the thing.
They'd had the feeling that this particular game would be a lost cause the moment they assessed the supporting cast for the round, but at that point, both feet on the stage and a spotlight shining above them, there was no room left for back steps (not with It watching, anyway) and when has Noli ever turned down a chance to prove themself?
Well turns out that feeling was not only right, it was actually so, so much worse! Not only did they fail to eradicate the pests that was meant only as supplements, but they'd nearly managed to reverse the tables with their constant pestering and interruptions.
Frankly, they hated them all; the soldier that stubbornly refused to get off the stage when it was his turn, the delivery boy that just wouldn't let up a chance to prolong his fellow casts' stage time beyond what's necessary, that stupid gambler that kept butting in at the worst times even at the risk of their own life, and perhaps worst of all the woman with the cloaked eyes that bombarded them with not roses nor tomatoes, but jars of crystals that left them vulnerable to her ragged hatchet. In those grueling minutes, only one had fallen to their arranged play like they were meant to.
What added even more salt to the wound was the fact that this round's failure wasn't just an anomaly either. Countless times in recent rounds, their performances have dropped as the pests got smarter and more focused. Not even winning felt satisfying anymore by the time they got through the wringer, that hollow sense of accomplishment went away just as quickly as it arrived. What was originally meant to be a eloquent performance of their triumph and conquest now felt more like an elaborate humiliation ritual designed to leave them feeling bruised inwardly and out.
It must know what they're feeling, It'd been watching every second of their round ever since they'd arrived here. Why was It not doing anything about it? Their performance hasn't changed a single bit, just as brilliant and impressive as the day they'd arrived, so why can't It force those extras to comply with the show?
Anger stirred in them the more they thought about it. Restless, they pushed themself off the couch and stormed past the others in the cabin. The red child watched them with curious eyes as they passed by, but didn't speak as he occupied himself playing with the tail of the beast.
The outside air was cool, but not enough to soothe their anger. In the distance they saw the botanist and the snake attending to the plants, seemingly having a pleasant conversation. They wonder if they, too, had struggled against those pests despite appearing to be in a amiable mood.
The waters were calm when Noli arrived, lapping at the base of the dock. They stood there for a moment, watching the dark, murky waters while restlessly tapping their foot. Soon, the surface began to churn violently, its colors shifting to reflect the sky above; it was a bit like watching paint being mixed together- red and black rippling together to take on a twisted texture, never fully mixing. Shapes overlapping eachother and converging into twisted whirls.
They didn't have to wait long. It had arrived.
"Took yyou-you long-g-g [Enough.]" They said.
NoNE oF tHe oTHeRs hAs dARed tO reQuEsT fOr My DIReCt pResENce.
"B-Be-Be-Believe [ME.] I wouldn't-wouldn't-wouldn't waste YO-YOUR tiIIime if it was-was-wasn't [OF UTMOST IMPORTANCE.]" They replied. "YO-YOU probably-probably-{PROBAILITY} already kn-know whAT [it is,] anyway."
I dON't, DO you?
They let out a huff, half annoyed.
"[Affirmative] Yes, YOU-YOU-YOU do. YOU've seen [𝖾̶𝗏̶𝖾̶𝗋̶𝗒̶𝗍̶𝗁̶𝗂̶𝗇̶𝗀̶] what these-these [PESTS] have been have been doing. I [Me and Myself] can't pu-pu-put on a [EXCELLENT, GREAT, BRILLIANT] show W1TH all these distractdistractions. YOU understand I [AM] a SHOWMAN, firrsttt and fforeeemosstt, [YES?]"
ThE oTHeRs ARe pEForMiNG as THeY shOULd, THEy aRE OBEdiENT AND qUIeT eVEn IN ThE FaCE OF dEFEAt. YOU aRE tHE oNLy ONe wITH CoMPLAints.
"The [OTHERS] ar-are not likelikelike ME, the-the-they aren't even try-trying to put on a [SHOW.] NONE of [them.] ha-ha-have MY DRIVE fffooorrr a good-great-BRILLIANT [performance!]" They snapped, the Nova spinning around wildly in their palm.
THeN perHAPS yOu'rE THe oNE iN NEed OF ADaPTing, No? YOu sPEAk of GReaT PERFORMances, aND YeT, ALL I HaVE SeEN IS thE SAME aCt OVer aND oveR aGA
"[YOU YOU YOU] {PROMISED} that [I] wouldwould ha-ha-ha-have a everlasting STAGE all ttooo [MYSELF]!" Rage trembled in their voice, muffled by a heavy static. "And now those-those [PESTS] ar-ar-are getting in [DA WAE], so either fi-fi-fix it, or-"
A low rumbling sensation came through their being all of a sudden, rattling them to the core. They quickly paused.
(Instinctively, they gauged for a reaction. But what reaction is there to read when It didn't even have a face?)
QUieT, I DIDn'T FInISH sPEaKING. DoN'T FOrGeT yOUr pLAcE.
I UNdeRSTaND yOUr RagE. YOuR WrAITh IS dELIghTFul TO wITneSs. BUT ThERe wILL BE nO CHANGES fOR nOW UnTIL I SEE FiT.
"Re-Re-Really now?" They clutched the Nova harder, feeling its edges digging into their hand. "So-so-so [YOU] expect [ME] to just T0IL away? Where's the fu-fu-fun in that?"
IT WOULDn'T be yOUR FiRSt tIMe. I BRouGHt yOu hERe, I gRANTeD yOU the SPOTLIGHT, I GAvE YOU a PERMANENT STaGE TO PeFORM On, IT IS YOUr RESPONSIbiliTY tO oVERcoME THeSe chALLENgEs.
"[…Fine.]" They said after a long pause. "I'll ju-ju-just find [another way in.] to PERFORM."
They turned away and watched as the red light fade away from the grass. The violent sloshing of the waves once again calming to a gentle splash against the shores. As they made their way back, there was nothing but a feeling of deep bitterness within them. Perhaps It owns the stage, but since when have any great showman allowed themselves to be limited? Certainly not Noli. They won't be suppressed again, not by admins, not by anyone, and certainly not now after everything they've done to get here.
If It doesn't want to allow them to perform, then they simply won't play Its games. Drag it out for long enough, and It will have to do something about it. And if Noli's good at anything, it was putting on a good show for themself.