[Dream] Turned Nightmare
[It's standard fare for him, really. About once a month, he'll have at least one like this, though rarely is it still this VIVID.]
[He's at the Great Palace. The fight with the Thunderbird is a blur, the enormous blue monster going down surprisingly easy, despite his size. And then he realizes why: it isn't his REAL enemy. No. The true threat lies THERE, directly across, staring him in the face, through the smoky mirror.]
[He knows, with a sense of dread, that the nightmare has just begun, but he is powerless to stop it. The mirror-him smirks, grins with fangs far too sharp, and lunges at him with unnatural speed. The red eyes glow, pupil-less. Skin charcoal dark and charcoal dead. Hair like ebony, or perhaps like black feathers: the wings of a raven. Link blocks and strikes and parries, but can't seem to make a cut; can't penetrate his defenses. The other Link is fast -- FAR too fast. So fast the edges blur. Or maybe it's not the motion, but something else? He lacks solidity. In fact, this is confirmed the first time Link succeeds in landing a hit: the sword sinks in, black blood pouring out, and for a second, he thinks he's won. And then the not-him grins viciously and rips the sword through his own gut, and the blood evaporates into smoke and the blackened skin crumbles away like motes of ash, and the creature keeps attacking.]
[Time passes -he doesn't comprehend how long -- and he's tired, and he's sore, and he's bleeding from a dozen gashes, while the not-him taunts him, barely hurt and barely slowed, while Link himself struggles to move like a man crawling through the muck.]
[And then it's behind him, clinging to him, holding him, claws digging into his chest, like some perverse embrace, and whispers obscenities and threats. The not-him is surprisingly light, but his legs are wrapped around Link's waist, heels digging into his ribs and pelvis, certainly hard enough to bruise. He croons, right against Link's ear:] "Aww, Sweet Hero, what will you do now? What will you do when I've killed you? When I've cut and split you into so many pieces they'll never find it all, to bury it all? When your blood litters the ground ready to be gathered by Ganon's minions? When your death serves to revive him, and destroy what you've worked to protect? Poor, poor, sweet hero. What will you do when your Goddesses turn their backs on you, for allowing such a tragedy, eh? Or better yet, when they tell you it would have made no difference anyway, because you were going to hell already, for killing a human? Hmm?"
[This wasn't a memory, anymore. This wasn't in the original script. But he's caught and he can't escape, and so the not-him tells him what will happen after his death, and the torture he will subject his loved ones to.] "And how they'll cry and scream and curse your name, sweet hero! Shush, shush! Poor, poor hero. How they'll beg!" [He runs his nails up Link's chest -- slowly -- relishing the scream rent from his throat as the gashes ooze red, red blood that stains the green of his clothes and drips to the granite floor, and then watches, enthralled, red eyes glowing in heightened rapture as a narrow trail winds toward the carpet, where it merges with the red, red fibers. He clings, nearly humming with pleasure, and the sick part is, Link can FEEL the effect it has: the hardness against his back...]
"Aww. Getting tired already, hero? But the fun is just starting! Look! You have guests..." [And then the wall of mirrors reflects copy after copy of the not-him, and they're all drawing forth, clawing their way out their individual mirrors, one at a time.]
[He's helpless. He screams for help.]
------
(OOC: Yeah... I know. Gruesome scene, but I couldn't get Linksha to gimme anything else, today -_-. Basically, here's your chance to be the hero -- or to try and get revenge, if you prefer. The Dark Links here aren't actually super-powerful or super-fast; Linksha's just really panicked and trapped in that non-responsive slow-mo that we experience when chased in dreams. YOUR character's not bound by that -- unless you wanna be, of course. You can't REALLY die in dreams, so don't worry if you can't save him. Maybe if he sees hope coming, he'll break out of his reaction-time lag!)
[He's at the Great Palace. The fight with the Thunderbird is a blur, the enormous blue monster going down surprisingly easy, despite his size. And then he realizes why: it isn't his REAL enemy. No. The true threat lies THERE, directly across, staring him in the face, through the smoky mirror.]
[He knows, with a sense of dread, that the nightmare has just begun, but he is powerless to stop it. The mirror-him smirks, grins with fangs far too sharp, and lunges at him with unnatural speed. The red eyes glow, pupil-less. Skin charcoal dark and charcoal dead. Hair like ebony, or perhaps like black feathers: the wings of a raven. Link blocks and strikes and parries, but can't seem to make a cut; can't penetrate his defenses. The other Link is fast -- FAR too fast. So fast the edges blur. Or maybe it's not the motion, but something else? He lacks solidity. In fact, this is confirmed the first time Link succeeds in landing a hit: the sword sinks in, black blood pouring out, and for a second, he thinks he's won. And then the not-him grins viciously and rips the sword through his own gut, and the blood evaporates into smoke and the blackened skin crumbles away like motes of ash, and the creature keeps attacking.]
[Time passes -he doesn't comprehend how long -- and he's tired, and he's sore, and he's bleeding from a dozen gashes, while the not-him taunts him, barely hurt and barely slowed, while Link himself struggles to move like a man crawling through the muck.]
[And then it's behind him, clinging to him, holding him, claws digging into his chest, like some perverse embrace, and whispers obscenities and threats. The not-him is surprisingly light, but his legs are wrapped around Link's waist, heels digging into his ribs and pelvis, certainly hard enough to bruise. He croons, right against Link's ear:] "Aww, Sweet Hero, what will you do now? What will you do when I've killed you? When I've cut and split you into so many pieces they'll never find it all, to bury it all? When your blood litters the ground ready to be gathered by Ganon's minions? When your death serves to revive him, and destroy what you've worked to protect? Poor, poor, sweet hero. What will you do when your Goddesses turn their backs on you, for allowing such a tragedy, eh? Or better yet, when they tell you it would have made no difference anyway, because you were going to hell already, for killing a human? Hmm?"
[This wasn't a memory, anymore. This wasn't in the original script. But he's caught and he can't escape, and so the not-him tells him what will happen after his death, and the torture he will subject his loved ones to.] "And how they'll cry and scream and curse your name, sweet hero! Shush, shush! Poor, poor hero. How they'll beg!" [He runs his nails up Link's chest -- slowly -- relishing the scream rent from his throat as the gashes ooze red, red blood that stains the green of his clothes and drips to the granite floor, and then watches, enthralled, red eyes glowing in heightened rapture as a narrow trail winds toward the carpet, where it merges with the red, red fibers. He clings, nearly humming with pleasure, and the sick part is, Link can FEEL the effect it has: the hardness against his back...]
"Aww. Getting tired already, hero? But the fun is just starting! Look! You have guests..." [And then the wall of mirrors reflects copy after copy of the not-him, and they're all drawing forth, clawing their way out their individual mirrors, one at a time.]
[He's helpless. He screams for help.]
------
(OOC: Yeah... I know. Gruesome scene, but I couldn't get Linksha to gimme anything else, today -_-. Basically, here's your chance to be the hero -- or to try and get revenge, if you prefer. The Dark Links here aren't actually super-powerful or super-fast; Linksha's just really panicked and trapped in that non-responsive slow-mo that we experience when chased in dreams. YOUR character's not bound by that -- unless you wanna be, of course. You can't REALLY die in dreams, so don't worry if you can't save him. Maybe if he sees hope coming, he'll break out of his reaction-time lag!)