[It feels like the surface had felt. So hard to think, so hard to focus past the burning ache racing through him, like trying to keep all the minute particles of dust in place with nothing but his clumsy uselessly hands. Yet, simultaneously, overflowing with thought, with so many disjointed panicky pleas that it almost feels like their are two souls inside of him, both feeling the same pain and screaming out in two drastically different ways.
"Please don't kill me?" What is that about? Is that one of the things he'd shouted to that village full of hostile faces? He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand! This shouldn't even be happening at all. Even a bad version of Chara, even one who wanted to blurt dark secrets and try to make people hate them... no version of Chara would want to hurt him. This can't be happening.
This...
This is all just a bad dream.
The Knife bites through his flesh. Etches an empty black stripe down his face, into his shoulder, through his phony, fragile little body. The disguise crumples. Goes to nothing like a balloon that's been handled too roughly. Scatters into snowy-white dust, in a pathetic little heap on the ground. Can't hold that form together when it's falling apart. Can't hide the ugly core inside of it when that's dying too.
A single golden flower, face blank and petals crumpled, drops sadly onto the pile.]
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"Please don't kill me?" What is that about? Is that one of the things he'd shouted to that village full of hostile faces? He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand! This shouldn't even be happening at all. Even a bad version of Chara, even one who wanted to blurt dark secrets and try to make people hate them... no version of Chara would want to hurt him. This can't be happening.
This...
This is all just a bad dream.
The Knife bites through his flesh. Etches an empty black stripe down his face, into his shoulder, through his phony, fragile little body. The disguise crumples. Goes to nothing like a balloon that's been handled too roughly. Scatters into snowy-white dust, in a pathetic little heap on the ground. Can't hold that form together when it's falling apart. Can't hide the ugly core inside of it when that's dying too.
A single golden flower, face blank and petals crumpled, drops sadly onto the pile.]