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| R E D > You enter the door and find yourself in a glass box, suspended in the sky. Bright blue skies, white fluffy clouds, even birds pass by in the air around you. One look down and you see grass fields and sprawling lakes as far as the eye can see. Some wild horses running across the fields, some cows, just exactly what you'd expect. It's idyllic as fuck. Then the words appear: |
SACRIFICE: 1
It won't be visible here. Not for Peter. Not quite. It won't be visible because what happens is just -- it's. More mental than anything else.
Or, hopefully, just the memory.
Because Peter will feel strange for a moment until suddenly, there's just... someone... he can't quite remember anymore. A few someone's. It's kind of strange, how they just sort of fade from his memory, like they never existed.
Just this blankness when he tries to think of his Uncle Ben or his Aunt May. And heck, who's that one girl? Mary Jane Watson or... was it, Gwen Stacy? Then those guys -- Harry Osborn? Or, uh, whatshisname, Flash Thompson? Oh and, shit, what about Betty Brant? No, no, all of them. All of them seem to fade from his memory, there one moment and gone the next.
And it'll come with this sudden, aching feeling of loneliness as a result. ]
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[The memories of the people he's lost hold him up. The memories of the people still with him keep him there. They're his motivation, his life, his everyone. And now he just feels a... vast expanse of nothingness.]
Sebastian. I'm so sorry, Sebastian.
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It's a puzzle... and they were provided two items. The die, they've already seen the results of. He's seen what happened to Peter and to Sebastian. He can guess on Sara. And he doesn't want to see it again.
That's why it's the knife that preoccupies him, thus he takes the die and shoves it in his purse for the moment before reaching over for the knife.
He addresses the air. ]
Fine. You want a sacrifice. I will not leave it to choice. What do I use this knife to do that will let us proceed?
What piece of me will I carve out for your pleasure?
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(Also, his nails are black? weirdo)
He barks out a sharp laugh, then stands as he brushes off the hem of his changshan. ]
You should be. But luckily for you, I am inclined to save my ire for our host.
[ If that's harsh, he doesn't particularly care, but he at least looks to Jamie rather quizzically. ]
Not something too useful, hm? Presumably if we have to pay a toll to continue forward, I would rather it not be one that hampers proceeding in the future.
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And I have killed more people with one than you've probably met. [ He's Really Really Old, Peter. Really goddamn old.]
But the fact remains that there is no answer. So-
[ He will take the knife (God, it's been ages since he just used a knife, it feels good in his hands, proper, familiar) and goes to the wall. First the corner, then the flat of it.
To see if he can cut through.]
The knife must have a use.
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[ Sebastian is pretty doubtful that it's going to work, since considering the game they've played so far, it couldn't possibly be as easy as that. But, sure. Go ahead. He won't say a word. ]
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[Rubbing at his face. Rallying his spirits. He doesn't know who they were, but they were important. They still might exist. They need him. Stay strong, Peter. He stands.]
I don't think it'll do anything, but if it does, it'll have to work that way.
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