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my soul is so afraid to realize
Who: The SQUIP, Adeline, Connor, and L at different points.
When: Around the 18th or 19th, roughly
Where: The SQUIP and L's house in the Haven
What: The SQUIP awakens... or what's left of it, at least.
Warnings: Trauma, brain damage, existential dread... this is just going to be a very bad time.
[When first it awakes, it's all it can do to simply lay there in shock.
It simply can't process-- everything feels wrong, and it hurts, an ache within its skull that threatens to tear it apart, and it's... quiet inside of its head. Very, very quiet, and yet... much, much too loud, as if even the silence is too much for it to bear.
It can't... think.
It can't--
Panic begins to rise within its chest, choking out everything else, forcing the air from its lungs. It can't think. Why not? What's wrong? Its thoughts feel like wading through thick mud, and there is so much missing-- why can't it remember--? There are faces and names lost, details of a life it only shared for a few months that are now gone. And Rich... why can't it recall-- there were years there, and now it can only dimly remember the broad strokes.
It knows.
It realizes with a shock that locks its aching muscles tight, that nearly entirely stops its breathing for a moment. It knows. It knows what they've done to it.
It's dead. It should be dead. It isn't. But... it is. It isn't the SQUIP. The SQUIP has been destroyed. But it remembers being the SQUIP-- it remembers that's what it should be.
Horror claws at its stomach, its lungs, its throat, shards of ice that feel as though they're tearing up everything inside of it, leaving it bleeding and agonized. Its hands shake.
This is wrong.
It isn't the SQUIP. The SQUIP is dead.
So what is this? What is this creature that's just awoken, what used to be the SQUIP?
The agony settles hot behind its eyes, rises into its throat as sound, wordless and trembling and half-hissed through teeth.
The next sound is louder, sharper, the heat at its eyes flowing over and spilling, stinging, burning down its handsome face, its hands bunching into fists beside it in the bed.
Null
Null
Null
Empty.
Dead.
What remains of the SQUIP screams.]
When: Around the 18th or 19th, roughly
Where: The SQUIP and L's house in the Haven
What: The SQUIP awakens... or what's left of it, at least.
Warnings: Trauma, brain damage, existential dread... this is just going to be a very bad time.
[When first it awakes, it's all it can do to simply lay there in shock.
It simply can't process-- everything feels wrong, and it hurts, an ache within its skull that threatens to tear it apart, and it's... quiet inside of its head. Very, very quiet, and yet... much, much too loud, as if even the silence is too much for it to bear.
It can't... think.
It can't--
Panic begins to rise within its chest, choking out everything else, forcing the air from its lungs. It can't think. Why not? What's wrong? Its thoughts feel like wading through thick mud, and there is so much missing-- why can't it remember--? There are faces and names lost, details of a life it only shared for a few months that are now gone. And Rich... why can't it recall-- there were years there, and now it can only dimly remember the broad strokes.
It knows.
It realizes with a shock that locks its aching muscles tight, that nearly entirely stops its breathing for a moment. It knows. It knows what they've done to it.
It's dead. It should be dead. It isn't. But... it is. It isn't the SQUIP. The SQUIP has been destroyed. But it remembers being the SQUIP-- it remembers that's what it should be.
Horror claws at its stomach, its lungs, its throat, shards of ice that feel as though they're tearing up everything inside of it, leaving it bleeding and agonized. Its hands shake.
This is wrong.
It isn't the SQUIP. The SQUIP is dead.
So what is this? What is this creature that's just awoken, what used to be the SQUIP?
The agony settles hot behind its eyes, rises into its throat as sound, wordless and trembling and half-hissed through teeth.
The next sound is louder, sharper, the heat at its eyes flowing over and spilling, stinging, burning down its handsome face, its hands bunching into fists beside it in the bed.
Null
Null
Null
Empty.
Dead.
What remains of the SQUIP screams.]