I'm extremely invested in this game for someone who is too afraid to play it LOL
Here's a lil thing that came to me after listening to In A Week by Hozier. I imagined Ruvik keeping a non-spidery Laura locked in his mind somewhere "nice"
He goes there to relive his favorite memories, changing them as he desires.
He goes there to relive his favorite memories, changing them as he desires.
I have never known peace like the damp grass that yields to me
I have never known hunger like these insects that feast on me
A thousand teeth and yours among them, I know
Our hungers appeased, our heart beats becoming slow
It was just a dream, just a memory, he knew that. He could feel the earth beneath his flesh, cool grass cradling his form as he let his body go slack, relaxing completely with a contented sigh. His favorite memory. He was whole again, pale skin smooth and unblemished by fire, free from any pain as the warm breeze kissed his flesh and tugged at his silver hair. Whole again, as he glanced down at the smaller, darker, form nestled into his side. His lips were not chapped, nor did they crack and bleed as he smiled down at her, the arm around her shoulders tightening as he gave his sister an affectionate squeeze.
Laura looked up at him, raven locks cascading over her face as she returned his smile with one of her own, wrinkling her nose and sticking out her tongue. A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest, fingers reaching up to brush the soft tresses out of her eyes. She would not hide from him, not here, not in this form. The girl pawed at his hand with a snort of laughter, flopping back into the grass with a gentle huff.
Argent hues could not help but follow her movements almost longingly. She looked as she did the day she died. Perfect in her red dress and white shoes, a stark contrast to her ivory skin, reminiscent of his own. The summer sun seemed to make her glow, though he was certain she could outshine every star and moon in the galaxy all on her own. He still enjoyed watching each bright ray play across her face as it seeped between the branches of the trees above. He wanted to reach out and stroke each place it touched her, feel the warmth of it against her flesh.
We'll lay here for years or for hours
Thrown here or found, to freeze or to thaw
So long, we'd become the flowers
Two corpses we were, two corpses I saw
Even as a child he would have loved nothing more than to lay there in the grass by her side, to die there by her side. He could recall saying as much to her one summers eve. Laura had laughed, though not unkindly. She understood him — what he meant — and loved him for it all the more. She saw the beauty in his morbidity where no one else did, and for that he loved her in return. She had indulged him as he spoke of said ending, poetic and stunning as ever. The stories he fabricated were so beautiful, even rotting corpses were a wonderful fantasy. She would add to his tales, spinning one of her own until they were entwined into a web, a middle ground where they met so perfectly. Laura always added sunflowers, regardless of what the story was about. This did not gall him in the slightest, no matter how deeply disturbing he would make his fables. Had anyone else dared to brighten such bleakness, he would have balked, but her…? She could scatter her golden flowers wherever she desired and he would follow the trail like an obedient pup.
And they'd find us in a week
When the weather gets hot
After the insects have made their claim
I'll be home with you, I'll be home with you
Languidly, he loosened his collar of his dress shirt, the heat almost stifling now. Laura always teased him for being so prim and proper, though she had little room to speak, forever running around in the same red dress, rain or shine. He really ought to buy her a new one, a red sundress perhaps. She had to be as warm as he was by now, she was directly under the hot beams, though she showed no signs of discomfort. Heat did not affect her any longer…
He, however, was acutely uncomfortable. Sweat trickled down his sternum, a sensation he had not experienced in years. His scarred form was so damaged by the fire that perspiration was no longer possible. It almost made him feel human again.
I have never known sleep like this slumber that creeps to me
I have never known colors like this morning reveals to me
And you haven't moved an inch such that I would not know
If you sleep always like this, flesh calmly going cold
Though he was loath to close his eyes, intent on watching the girl at his side, his lids grew heavier with each passing moment. The chirp of crickets and cicadas, the call of birds, it was a lullaby. He could hear Laura humming at his side, a beautiful made up tune he would have recorded if he could have. He would have played it every night before sleep, just so the last this he heard was her sweet voice reaching out to him through the darkness. As if she could hear his thoughts, her hand found his, twining her fingers with his. Fingers, not claws. Cool, soft, human fingers. He could feel her thumb trail gently over the back of his fist, tracing the blue veins twisted beneath the surface. A sigh of pure contentment was expelled from him, his body relaxing further into the grass.
Not another breath was drawn, his chest stilling as he trailed his own fingers over hers, sensitive pads searing invisible patterns across her digits.
We'll lay here for years or for hours
Your hand in my hand, so still and discreet
So long, we'd become the flowers
We'd feed well the land and worry the sheep
He was not yet asleep, though his consciousness ebbed and flowed, carried on the breeze that bore their scent across the land. Sickly sweet, fused with the earth and ozone, sure to bring every creature from miles around. He was completely unconcerned when he felt a gentle tug at his clothing, nor did the itch that settled over the expanse of his chest prove to shake him. His mind was focused solely on the hand within his, still awed at how smooth it was against his own.
The prickling should have been cumbersome, painful, even. This irritant was nothing compared to the burn of fire, though. His body could easily withstand any number of discomforts with little to no effect. His gut could writhe and bloat all it wanted, his peace would not be broken.
Not by the paws the tread across the dead grass towards them, nor the hoarse crow of black birds that circled overhead.
And they'd find us in a week
When the cattle'd show fear
After the insects have made their claim
After the foxes have known our taste
I'll be home with you, I'll be home with you
An immeasurable amount of time passed, the bright afternoons morphing into rich evenings, the sky above as orange and yellow as the surrounding flora. Ruben allowed his eyes to slide open then, grey hues meeting those of his sister, a smile once more tugged at the corners of his lips. Her dress was torn open, ribs and clavicle protruding where flesh had once encased them, the sparse pieces that remained now blackened with dried blood. He could see the fragments of decaying, half consumed organs pulled out from her carcass, draped half across her midsection as they were dragged away to be devoured. Maggots wormed their way throughout it all, a medley of other bugs in their wake as they finished the remainder of their feast. Amid the carnage, between each rib and empty space inside of her thorax, grew half-a-dozen sunflowers, green stalks reaching for the sky. Their petals were untouched by gore that surrounded them, pristine and golden in the light of the setting sun.
He did not die with her, but he still could.
Laura returned his gaze with clouded eyes, her own lips quirking up in a blissful smile as she gestured towards his body with a skeletal hand. He too was disemboweled and torn apart, immaculate attire shredded to pieces where he lay. Though he could not lift his head to assess the damage in its entirety, he could only guess what horrors dwelt beyond his line of vision. None of this surprised him in the slightest, it was his design and he welcomed the havoc. What did surprise him were the sunflowers that bloomed from his own chest. He did not deserve flowers, the guilt in what remained of his heart would not allow him to build such elegance for himself. For her? Yes, a million times yes. He would have built her an entire world made up of these flowers. For him, though? Even if Laura had asked him to, he could not had planted these blossoms for himself. He could only conclude that the part of her that remained locked within had sowed them. He could not escape her love, even in death.
Words of gratitude were unnecessary, the expression on his now scarred visage was enough. It was always enough for her, it always had been and so it would remain.
Raised voices could be heard beyond their hiding place in the field field, calling out to them home from afar. The siblings spared each other another glance, smiles still intact on waxen faces, knowing that they were already safe at home. Untouchable.
