>>5236829“I think the empathic method would give me the most insight…but only if you’re certain you want to go through with it.” You decide, giving Charon one final ‘out’…one the Hexane waves off as they raise the thin tendril of neurofiber to their skull, as you watch as it slithers into a crevice in their skull-like helm. You hand Charon their old weapon, the gun warm as you hand it off and the silvery thread winds around the barrel before it’s subsumed into the revolver’s biomass.
A quick message to Gina lets her know that you’d like your room to yourself for a while with no interruptions, and she’s happy to oblige as you close the door behind you and Charon. You take a seat in one of the chairs at the foot of your bed, with Charon hovering over from the room’s threshold to occupy the chair beside you, with Ringo loping over to curl up at your friend’s feet.
“Breathe in, taking care to focus on the inherent rhythm of your physical form.” Charon begins, mirroring your inhalation. “I will initiate the link when you let me know you are ready.”
“Before we start…there should be a safe word, or something.” You realize, meeting Charon’s glowing sockets. “Something that either of us can say to cut the connection if it’s too much for either of us.”
“What would you suggest, my friend?”
“…Peace.” You say after a moment’s consideration.
“Appropriate...” Charon hums as the two of you start breathing once more.
“…our ascent was anything but.”
A wave of emotion crashes over your entire being, taking with it the feeling of the chain beneath you along with your senses as you know them. You focus, dragging in a breath as you center yourself as a fresh set of senses come online. A new way of seeing, a spectrum of color that starts as alien and slowly becomes familiar as old memories settle into your mind. Your taloned hands clench, one around the familiar, comforting weight of your Contender’s hilt, while the other squeezes a spine of your wretched foe into dust and pulp. A mind-numbing howl makes you turn to the onrushing threat; a sea of jumbled parts that surge towards you, screaming and ravenous. You can pick out pieces of the familiar in the crowd—people you once knew, customers, patrons, people you’ve passed once, their faces fleeting. You don’t know if the faces these things wear are real, or something summoned by the Cord to break you…but it doesn’t matter.
With a flick of your wrist, you prime the corpse and hurl it towards the legion. The body detonates into a lethal cloud of calcite shards that shower the crowd, and the chain reaction begins—chaos reigns, the amalgams’ screams reaching a violent crescendo as they erupt into chitin and viscera, one after another.
You…
Your name…
Your name is Reyva, and you’re only just set foot into hell.
(Climb)
