Wake Me Up Inside [FILLED]
Dec 22, 2023 15:02:55 GMT -5
Post by Euanthe on Dec 22, 2023 15:02:55 GMT -5
Crushing cold eternity stretching in all directions. An endless void of dark and pressing weight of stone. All that she had once been was being compressed in a space where the agony and endless dark had rendered time as impossible to tell as it was meaningless to do so. She could tell this was not death, but it certainly was not life. It was void, nothingness and dark. All she was and all she could have been was strapped under the pressure, cracking, splintering, but never fully breaking. A slow and constant grind, like the waves making sand of mountains. No end in sight, no sense of when it began constant near-nothingness.
It was torture.
It was eternal.
It would be poetic to say they were near their breaking point, that she was finally fully about to be utterly worn away when things changed. But she was not None of her was. To say so would imply that relief, release, was inevitable in one form or another. To see the coming end would have been a mercy, would have given a point of reference, something to feel, to anticipate, but that was not so. The grinding nothingness was constant and ongoing and then suddenly it was not.
Not to say that the pain stopped, that the nothingness faded fully, But suddenly there was a change, a difference between endless senseless nothing, and something, no matter how small, was vast. The only light in a dark cave. Only, it was not light, it was warmth, barely any. The faintest tickle, a gentle almost ineffectual balm that she could feel atop her head, or rather atop one snake atop her head. It was nearly nothing, but it was enough.
Sisters we, I, exist. There is something and we in part survive.
Yes. We, I, are still here, still awake.
Still alive, still whole, as three.
She was in-tact. Still whole, despite the damage, despite the time, despite how long ago her mind had gone quiet in all its parts, she, all of her, was still there.
Then we must move.
But we do not remember how.
Or if we even can.
We must.
It is our only chance.
They could feel it, that warmth, feel it grow, slowly, the closest thing they had to any measure of time. It spread further across the head of the snake until they could feel its borders, feel where it ended, know that where teh warmth did not reach was because it /could/ not reach.
Hurry! We must Hurry!
We do not know what to do.
Something, anything! It is fading, even now!
It was. The warmth was moving on diminishing, faintly but noticeably. The opposite side of where it had begun.
The Sun! That is the sun!
We have felt a day!
And it is WANING! WE MUST MOVE!
All of everything they had, every drop of will, of thought, of existence they had was pushed towards that feeling of warmth, towards that fleeting fading heat. That only guard against the pressing eternity of nothing. As it faded further and further they felt it finally. Movement. Their own movement. The snake moved forward as if shedding a skin it slipped free of something that chipped and fell away and it could feel the cold. Not the void of nothingness, but the cold and more importantly, the wet. Earth, soil… mud! That wicked awful lovely wonderful mud! Her many nightmares of the mud were nothing in the face of the hope it gave her.
As the snake sluggishly moved, stretched itself to the limits of what it could reach, more movement followed. Other snakes crackled and slipped free of the nothingness and pressed their noses out of the wet earth, they tasted the air and opened their eyes. They bumped into one another, tangled around each other and turned their heads towards the warmth and all of her together could see the fractured impression of a sunset obscured mostly by heavy clouds and high trees.
All at once, all of what she had left doubled in strength as hope became concrete, became desperate and certain. There was not nothingness, and she was touching it. And then awareness, she was under the earth, under the mud and the soil and the nothingness was broken. It would not return the same. She could rise up and meet the world, or she would die, and the choice would be made for her soon.
Move! We must move!
There is no other choice.
We are dying!
She willed the strongest part of her to move, but she was trapped, could not, only she, one part, could. All of that strength that had bloomed inside her, that was rapidly being drained away was pushed into her. Even as she grew more alive, more feeling, those feelings came with pain. Lungs burned for air, flesh ached under crushing weight, her returning life was being eaten, consumed in a blaze of fresh pain.
The only part of her that could, fought. Her snakes writhed and at their base her head broke free of that same second skin inside the mud and began to turn, small, frantic movements, but they were movmenets, she could feel them…. Down into that neck, and from that neck to those shoulders and from those shoulders arms, and then hands. As soon as she could feel them, they fought the hardest, they struggled and writhed and fought and finally one hand, one arm burst from the mud and clawed at the wet earth as her head shook all the harder.
Their lungs were screaming, desperate, her mouth opened and tasted only mud and wet earth and she choked as it entered her nose and mouth and throat. Some was swallowed, some inhaled, and finally as her free hand continued to work, air! Only a trickle but something, anything was better. Her whole chest heaved with coughing, with spluttering, even as she barely pulled her head higher, spitting out the mud and taking in that sweet sweet air. A second breath, a stronger one. More coughing, desperate pained tears ran down her cheeks through the mud that caked over her eyes as she spluttered and gasped and took a second breath. Still dying, but slower now. No time to rest. No time to stop.
She took another breath and fought harderwith the force of her head and neck, as her fingers dug into the mud she pulled and struggled and freed a shoulder, then another arm. Two hands flailed as her serpents hissed and writhed and she blindly scraped at the earth. She paused only once to wipe the mud from her eyes and damn the consequences she opened them.
There! A stone, something to hold on to! One hand reached out and grabbed the stone as the other clawed the mud beside her, towards another part of herself that could now feel was buried and struggling until she beneath the earth pushed up enough for two hands to meet and pull upon eachother. Together she freed another part of herself. A mud caked head, neck, and arms to her full torso. She closed two of her eyes before their gazes could meet but she could see herself and fought any joy at the sight to turn with now two arms pulling for all their might and two arms scraping at the mud and earth. The strongest part of her, the third part of her whole was screaming, first inside, and then out as she roared her way to the surface. While two of her gasped and panted, her third part returned to the world snarling and growling as she refused her own hands and clawed her own way free to the surface. As she broke ground and filled her lungs with air all of her could breathe at once. Their true lungs could fill with the first full breath they had taken and in response it shrugged and surged and all three of herself rose higher, splayed forward in the mud, wrapped around the stone like anchoring ropes and pulled as their buried feet found movement and clawed at the hard earth around them.
They struggled and fought and with one combined yell of effort they put all they had into one mighty heave and were rewarded with the wet sucking sound of something large rising from the earth and mud. Two feet found purchase in the uneven holes their selves had left behind. Powerful legs dug upwards until they rose themselves up and away for reptilian paws to grab the stone and with that anchor underfoot it was no mighty feat to pull the last of herself free, whiplike tails lashing at the air.
One she wept in joy, the other roared in triumph, the last, first from the mud slumped and panted and struggled to get her breath.
They were haggard, completely drained, battered, scratched and bruised, and starving, but they were ALIVE!
One self took the middle one in her arms and held her supportively as the other rested a hand on her shoulder. That part of her had saved her. They were the most drained of her and needed rest. She, all of her, needed rest. Only just awake and her whole body begged for sleep, until they looked up.
She was filled at once with wonder and terror. Above them, through an opening in thick overcast clouds, a small window to the heavens. After an eternity of nothing, she beheld the stars and they were twinkling and beautiful and sent her hearts racing at the sight, but even exhausted, bewildered, with a mind that was in tatters all of her knew…. Those were not the stars she knew, some of them were there but they were wrong, in different places, there were more, and less than there should be. She looked around herself at the mud, the murky mire… some kind of swamp. This was not the island or the cave that she remembered. Nothing looked familiar.
Warmth. We need warmth first. Questions later.
She gave herself a task. Tired trembling hands extended, tried to call on knowledge that was more muscle memory than knowledge and nothing came. She could feel it, feel how it was supposed to work. A simple calling of fire, the barest spark…. But nothing. She did not have the strength left for even that much. The depths of how completely and utterly drained she was, how she had been changed by that long entombment were a pressing concern but not as great as the need to survive first. Four tired legs carried them towards the grasses and boughs of the bog, four tired hands pulled the reeds and driest branches.
Nothing else had survived her entombment. So two hands worked to build a fire and two hands worked to weave them clothes. Even the barest covering would be more comfortable than the open cold. The third of herself slumped against the weaver’s shoulders and tried to gather her strength, tried to rest.
Her strongest part snarled at the shavings of tinder and the sticks that refused to light no matter how she drilled them, and snarled but relented to the interruption enough to cover herself. At least they were not blind with that moon shining through the infrequent gaps in the clouds. A small mercy that offset the deep concern of why she could no longer see in the dark.
So there she was, one snake adorned head slumped against the another who held her for support and a meager form of warmth while the third growled at sticks she furiously rubbed together trying to start embers and smoke in order to survive.
It was torture.
It was eternal.
It would be poetic to say they were near their breaking point, that she was finally fully about to be utterly worn away when things changed. But she was not None of her was. To say so would imply that relief, release, was inevitable in one form or another. To see the coming end would have been a mercy, would have given a point of reference, something to feel, to anticipate, but that was not so. The grinding nothingness was constant and ongoing and then suddenly it was not.
Not to say that the pain stopped, that the nothingness faded fully, But suddenly there was a change, a difference between endless senseless nothing, and something, no matter how small, was vast. The only light in a dark cave. Only, it was not light, it was warmth, barely any. The faintest tickle, a gentle almost ineffectual balm that she could feel atop her head, or rather atop one snake atop her head. It was nearly nothing, but it was enough.
Sisters we, I, exist. There is something and we in part survive.
Yes. We, I, are still here, still awake.
Still alive, still whole, as three.
She was in-tact. Still whole, despite the damage, despite the time, despite how long ago her mind had gone quiet in all its parts, she, all of her, was still there.
Then we must move.
But we do not remember how.
Or if we even can.
We must.
It is our only chance.
They could feel it, that warmth, feel it grow, slowly, the closest thing they had to any measure of time. It spread further across the head of the snake until they could feel its borders, feel where it ended, know that where teh warmth did not reach was because it /could/ not reach.
Hurry! We must Hurry!
We do not know what to do.
Something, anything! It is fading, even now!
It was. The warmth was moving on diminishing, faintly but noticeably. The opposite side of where it had begun.
The Sun! That is the sun!
We have felt a day!
And it is WANING! WE MUST MOVE!
All of everything they had, every drop of will, of thought, of existence they had was pushed towards that feeling of warmth, towards that fleeting fading heat. That only guard against the pressing eternity of nothing. As it faded further and further they felt it finally. Movement. Their own movement. The snake moved forward as if shedding a skin it slipped free of something that chipped and fell away and it could feel the cold. Not the void of nothingness, but the cold and more importantly, the wet. Earth, soil… mud! That wicked awful lovely wonderful mud! Her many nightmares of the mud were nothing in the face of the hope it gave her.
As the snake sluggishly moved, stretched itself to the limits of what it could reach, more movement followed. Other snakes crackled and slipped free of the nothingness and pressed their noses out of the wet earth, they tasted the air and opened their eyes. They bumped into one another, tangled around each other and turned their heads towards the warmth and all of her together could see the fractured impression of a sunset obscured mostly by heavy clouds and high trees.
All at once, all of what she had left doubled in strength as hope became concrete, became desperate and certain. There was not nothingness, and she was touching it. And then awareness, she was under the earth, under the mud and the soil and the nothingness was broken. It would not return the same. She could rise up and meet the world, or she would die, and the choice would be made for her soon.
Move! We must move!
There is no other choice.
We are dying!
She willed the strongest part of her to move, but she was trapped, could not, only she, one part, could. All of that strength that had bloomed inside her, that was rapidly being drained away was pushed into her. Even as she grew more alive, more feeling, those feelings came with pain. Lungs burned for air, flesh ached under crushing weight, her returning life was being eaten, consumed in a blaze of fresh pain.
The only part of her that could, fought. Her snakes writhed and at their base her head broke free of that same second skin inside the mud and began to turn, small, frantic movements, but they were movmenets, she could feel them…. Down into that neck, and from that neck to those shoulders and from those shoulders arms, and then hands. As soon as she could feel them, they fought the hardest, they struggled and writhed and fought and finally one hand, one arm burst from the mud and clawed at the wet earth as her head shook all the harder.
Their lungs were screaming, desperate, her mouth opened and tasted only mud and wet earth and she choked as it entered her nose and mouth and throat. Some was swallowed, some inhaled, and finally as her free hand continued to work, air! Only a trickle but something, anything was better. Her whole chest heaved with coughing, with spluttering, even as she barely pulled her head higher, spitting out the mud and taking in that sweet sweet air. A second breath, a stronger one. More coughing, desperate pained tears ran down her cheeks through the mud that caked over her eyes as she spluttered and gasped and took a second breath. Still dying, but slower now. No time to rest. No time to stop.
She took another breath and fought harderwith the force of her head and neck, as her fingers dug into the mud she pulled and struggled and freed a shoulder, then another arm. Two hands flailed as her serpents hissed and writhed and she blindly scraped at the earth. She paused only once to wipe the mud from her eyes and damn the consequences she opened them.
There! A stone, something to hold on to! One hand reached out and grabbed the stone as the other clawed the mud beside her, towards another part of herself that could now feel was buried and struggling until she beneath the earth pushed up enough for two hands to meet and pull upon eachother. Together she freed another part of herself. A mud caked head, neck, and arms to her full torso. She closed two of her eyes before their gazes could meet but she could see herself and fought any joy at the sight to turn with now two arms pulling for all their might and two arms scraping at the mud and earth. The strongest part of her, the third part of her whole was screaming, first inside, and then out as she roared her way to the surface. While two of her gasped and panted, her third part returned to the world snarling and growling as she refused her own hands and clawed her own way free to the surface. As she broke ground and filled her lungs with air all of her could breathe at once. Their true lungs could fill with the first full breath they had taken and in response it shrugged and surged and all three of herself rose higher, splayed forward in the mud, wrapped around the stone like anchoring ropes and pulled as their buried feet found movement and clawed at the hard earth around them.
They struggled and fought and with one combined yell of effort they put all they had into one mighty heave and were rewarded with the wet sucking sound of something large rising from the earth and mud. Two feet found purchase in the uneven holes their selves had left behind. Powerful legs dug upwards until they rose themselves up and away for reptilian paws to grab the stone and with that anchor underfoot it was no mighty feat to pull the last of herself free, whiplike tails lashing at the air.
One she wept in joy, the other roared in triumph, the last, first from the mud slumped and panted and struggled to get her breath.
They were haggard, completely drained, battered, scratched and bruised, and starving, but they were ALIVE!
One self took the middle one in her arms and held her supportively as the other rested a hand on her shoulder. That part of her had saved her. They were the most drained of her and needed rest. She, all of her, needed rest. Only just awake and her whole body begged for sleep, until they looked up.
She was filled at once with wonder and terror. Above them, through an opening in thick overcast clouds, a small window to the heavens. After an eternity of nothing, she beheld the stars and they were twinkling and beautiful and sent her hearts racing at the sight, but even exhausted, bewildered, with a mind that was in tatters all of her knew…. Those were not the stars she knew, some of them were there but they were wrong, in different places, there were more, and less than there should be. She looked around herself at the mud, the murky mire… some kind of swamp. This was not the island or the cave that she remembered. Nothing looked familiar.
Warmth. We need warmth first. Questions later.
She gave herself a task. Tired trembling hands extended, tried to call on knowledge that was more muscle memory than knowledge and nothing came. She could feel it, feel how it was supposed to work. A simple calling of fire, the barest spark…. But nothing. She did not have the strength left for even that much. The depths of how completely and utterly drained she was, how she had been changed by that long entombment were a pressing concern but not as great as the need to survive first. Four tired legs carried them towards the grasses and boughs of the bog, four tired hands pulled the reeds and driest branches.
Nothing else had survived her entombment. So two hands worked to build a fire and two hands worked to weave them clothes. Even the barest covering would be more comfortable than the open cold. The third of herself slumped against the weaver’s shoulders and tried to gather her strength, tried to rest.
Her strongest part snarled at the shavings of tinder and the sticks that refused to light no matter how she drilled them, and snarled but relented to the interruption enough to cover herself. At least they were not blind with that moon shining through the infrequent gaps in the clouds. A small mercy that offset the deep concern of why she could no longer see in the dark.
So there she was, one snake adorned head slumped against the another who held her for support and a meager form of warmth while the third growled at sticks she furiously rubbed together trying to start embers and smoke in order to survive.