heart game - Kantera

[wroughtandtempered]

I’m sorry. I tried— I tried, but I can’t keep going—

I don’t think I can do this alone, so— Please. Please—

I need help.

Comments

Re: THE WORKSHOP

[wroughtandtempered]

You pick up the shard of mirror.

Instantly, pain slices through your fingers— but when you look there’s no sign of blood. Instead, you can hear Eve’s voice, faintly:

“…there’s no point. Wanting’s for people.”

...something appears to be happening with the drawing it had been resting on, however, beating Kantera to it. A single pencil stroke appears; then another. And another. Soon, enough lines have been redrawn to fill the empty space with Eve in her beast form, curled around and supporting Korone and Donnie’s backs.

Does he put the mirror shard with the swept pile of trash? There's no can in here.

Re: THE WORKSHOP

[happydreamed]

Swept pile of trash it is, then. If necessary, maybe he can take the whole pile and dump it outside the house.

"You're as much a a person as anyone else is, Eve."

Re: THE WORKSHOP

[wroughtandtempered]

There's no response. The mirror sits in the pile of ashes and bits of burnt paper.

Re: THE WORKSHOP

[happydreamed]

...Hmm. Just getting it off the sketchbook seems to have helped, but it's still there. He picks it up again, this time braced for the pain, and carries it out of the room, back to the front door of the house - at which point he opens the door and fuckin' yeets the mirror shard as far as his arm can throw it.

[scalepel]

Reika is no longer in the hallway, and their humming can no longer be heard.

Kantera winds up for what would truly be a majestic yeet— and then a voice drawls from behind him:

"You might not want to do that."

[happydreamed]

Yeet aborted. Kantera turns around to look at who had spoken.

"I would like to be rid of it in some manner, if possible. Is that unwise?"

[scalepel]

It's a person-sized copper-colored snake, head just poking out from the kitchen doorway. It flicks out a black, forked tongue, then says in a woman's voice:

"Very."

[happydreamed]

...A person of few words.

"I was under the impression that this was a piece of the shrapnel that was causing Eve harm. Am I mistaken?"

[scalepel]

"You're not. But that doesn't mean it isn't anything else, either."

[happydreamed]

"...Did I nearly throw an important piece of Eve outside with great force?"

Ah. Shit.

[scalepel]

She laughs low and rusty— a lot like the way Eve laughs, actually.

"Sure did. That's what I'm here for, though.

...Do you want to come to the kitchen? Or you can poke around where you were some more, I'm not going anywhere."

[happydreamed]

"Thank you for stopping me." Kantera inclines his head. "I think - I would like to go back and take a closer look at that painting of our clinic, first, and then I'll come chat with you at greater length."

[scalepel]

"No problem. See you later, then."

She slithers in a wide arc back into the kitchen.

The painting, when he approaches it, is a simple oil painting of the front of the clinic. It has no label.

[happydreamed]

"...Is it egotistical to want to see what she would depict me as?"

He touches the painting lightly.

[wroughtandtempered]

You’re filled with determination, with an undercurrent of spite. This is yours— your heritage, your dream, and you won’t let it be taken from you again.

[happydreamed]

"You make a fine healer, Eve, and you deserve to be one."

That done, he'll go to the kitchen to talk to Dad.

[wroughtandtempered]

To the kitchen!