limiterrings | (no subject)

[The moment he felt progress was the moment the ground starts to split. The connection barely holds. He blinks back in the waking world. Reality? He isn't sure what is real or not anymore. As he does, his phantom within the connection fades. Their only connection now is by his blood that managed to seep into his other, like a parasite. His grip still on his other's hand despite the additional gap.

Irritated, he stares up at the masked face above them. There are sparks in his other hand as something starts to form.] Enough talk. [He takes aim, a tiny ball of chaos energy had form as he fires it toward the face. He doesn't know if they're actually there or just an illusion. He know he's grown tired of their constant interruptions. Once that little orb reaches within vicinity of that head, it will suddenly expand into a black hole, blocking all light and pulling anything close by into it. It's much more controlled than what was shown in those testings, only threatening the space it was occupying and not expanding much further.

You are not like me.

His other voice rings in his ear. No, not just them. There's cheering...? He presses his free hand to the side of his head. These images...what's being written on that paper, even he doesn't recall being privvy to such a thing. But some of the tests listed there...he remembers going through a few of them. The last one, something with Maria? What? Why, was he seeing this? Why was his other seeing this? The other's remaining words reaching him. The implications are concerning.] Shadow?!

[ it's only a magic trick in a way, the apparition disappearing as quickly as it came with the younger hedgehog's ability. the black hole swallowing in whatever is close by, and while the mask disappears from there, a piece of the ceiling is taken into the black hole — a bit of the outside visible, light shining down within the dark room illuminating it only where they stand.

his head hurts, his ears twitch at the sound of his name, and his body alerts him of what connection is still there. what moves through his body in an attempt to stay entwined with the other in some way.

slowly his hand curls, the sensation of nails pressing to the inside of his palm, and it's with just a little pestering that he blinks. at first, it's suspicious with the black ooze still around his body, but it recedes, sinking back into his body without trapping him in place. the floor shifts, shadow's side lowering only by an inch, but nothing to worry about.

they have to leave, that's all that is before it consumes them back below, and they've worked so hard to climb from where they were. if the beings of this world finds them then what's next? these aren't things shadow thinks about, but just this once he does move one foot forward.

the look in his eyes never meets his copy's, instead, they away from him completely. something in the darkness that only he can see, and whatever that is... he doesn't seem to comment on. shadow inhales, catching his breath as he turns his head to the side in a small coughing fit, a little raspy like an older person trying to recompose themselves. ]

[The blackhole soon disappates, letting in the light from above. Whatever that annoying apparition was had disappeared for now. His focus can return to his other. The black ooze was receding, that should be promising, but he can still sense turmoil in his other. This drive to move, go somewhere. Away.

He moves to stand as his other takes a step. Their eyes seem distant, focused on something else. Ahead. He glances in the same direction as his other for a moment, unable to see whatever they're seeing. He looks back when they start to cough, remaining still. Quietly.] Shadow...? [Despite all he remembers, that softness about him never quite left him.]

[ promising, maybe.

no one can tell if that's a good or bad thing, the copy was better off going alone, leaving shadow alone. no matter how many times the younger one calls to him, shadow never makes visual contact. his ears twitch registering that he's being called, but anything else about him seems distant.

hea probably working off instinct more than his common sense and intuition, that look in his eyes absent of that calculating look he normally wears when he's presented with a problem. everything that stands in his way can be torn down, that's the only thing that makes sense to him.

what trace of the copy that's still within shadow will immediately tell that shadow isn't completely there. that his need to get out of this world is there, but get out and do what exactly... there's no answer to it. ]

[He cannot. Their lives are too connected in more ways than one now. If he experienced memories that belonged to his other during that time they were separated, then they must have seen his memories as well. Something there, made them snap. Is that his own fault...? No, some other force is trying to pit them against each other. The masked individual.

He can't look into them right now. It is invaluable that he gets his other back to their senses first. They seem fixated on one point, ignoring everything else around them. He needs to make another connection that his blood cannot do alone. He reaches to gently grab their hand, avoiding any sudden movements and just let him be aware he's next to them.]

[ a foreign embrace to him, something wrapped around his hand, and he turns to look just this once. in his view, he sees the fallen body of maria, her hand held onto his being dragged along the ground. shadow stops only to watch, gaze drifting to behind the body where blood trails onto the floor.

that's because of him, isn't it? obviously this must have been something he experienced, it's because of those damned humans. he doesn't recall this maria requesting any happiness for them, why would she? the last thing he remembers are her screams, the explosion... the silence afterwards.

his fingers curl tightly around the hand that hold his, not for the reason his copy may think unless he can feel that something is still wrong.

all shadow has to do is find the source, kill the source, find her world... slaughter them all. easy enough, it can easily be done, all he has to do is find the source... ]

[He tenses, seeing what his other sees, what he's had to relived for the last fifty years. All that he felt in that moment, reflected back at him through his other. It was so much, a heavy pressure pushing against him, threatening to swallow him. Reminding him what they've done to him, to her. Murderous intent creeping up. More intense than anything he ever felt on his own. Searching. Seeking to end them.

It's still wrong.

A small voice, still pushing back. He's starting to wonder who that voice is, keeping him from falling into the pit several times now. Their hand squeezing his, but it doesn't give him reassurance.]

Don't. [That isn't their fight. They shouldn't be driven to burn his Earth. Why is he even defending it though? Certainly not for the reason he cares about anyone on his planet. Cause he's seen enough of it? Planets burning and die. Over and over. Newer memories conflicting with the old. His devotion toward his own creator, not as strong as before.]

[ and what is that voice within the muck that speaks to him to tell him what to do and not to do? strange and foreign, unwanted and undesired by him when all he wants to do is destroy people he doesn't know, kill what's been taken from...

him?

that hatred, that pain, oh and the anger, the anger is so overwhelming that his body feels hot. like everything in him wants to combust to destroy all that's around him. however, those humans aren't here, that world seems so far away that he has to go alone to reach that place.

his irritation feels misplaced at times, there are unfamiliar faces that he doesn't recall, but he knows what he wants to do with them. that's right, the entire world could rot and then burn, something he is capable of because who would stop him? what could stop him? he should let go now, shadow has to let go because there are things that his companion cannot see. it may be the younger version of himself holding on, but to him... this maria lingers, reminding him why he should do it.

because these are his feelings of anger and hatred, and he has to follow these feelings because what else could he ever want?

that's why the copy will feel that grip loosen as though shadow has decided to let go, and he has. ]

[Their grip is loosening, even as he continues to feel murderous intent boiling underneath. Their emotions has not calm, and it feels like he's being pushed further away. So he keeps holding onto their hand, refusing to let them go.]

Shadow, listen. [Do they even hear him anymore? Doesn't matter, he has to try.] Someone is making you feel this way. Make us hurt. I saw them. [Why? He still doesn't know. He doesn't recognize that masked face. He just knows this is likely what they want, his other to fall into a trap.]

[ if only someone else was as violent, was full of anger and hatred then maybe he could see eye to eye. the younger one may have not worked for that scheme, but everyone knows that shadow has a couple of faults to him — his past, the conflict with his own emotions, it works splendidly well when used against him.

maybe because the younger one was sad, upset, afraid that it did the opposite and doesn't work as well.

he thinks to push this persistent voice away, whatever's holding onto him. the issue here is that between looking at this deathly, deterioated version of maria... sometimes it cracks, he can see something black and red behind it. a mirror or... no... that one, the one... from those memories with the salamander, and then the cave-in.

shadow's eyes look away from their head to trying to meet where he thinks those second crimson set of eyes are.

...

no one can make him feel this way, this is how he should feel... right? ]

[He's met with silence still, ears falling slightly. Though the whirlwind of emotions from them seems to be lessening...? That should be good, right? But they still aren't responding, still seeing something that isn't there. What does he do?

He watches, seeing their eyes searching. Pass him, back to him, pass him again. His own eyes searching for a way for them to recognize what is reality once more. His ears perk up, recalling a memory, when he looked at the stars with Maria. He pulls at their hand, coming closer. He then places their hand over his chest fur, there, a heartbeat. Could he feel that? That's real.] I'm right here.

[ there's a twitch of his fingers against that patch of fur, a thumping sensation underneath that shouldn't be there. if anything, maria should be a lifeless husk with no chances of living. but... that beating, that's not maria, is it? he fingers weave within the fur, flinching a bit thinking he should draw away in case he accidentally breaks whatever it is he's supposed to be feeling.

there's something about someone there, they're right there, and it's with a shake of his head and a frustrated growl that he looks away.

it doesn't last long, his palm remaining there, feeling the heart that beats underneath. the sensation reminds him of something else, a moment in time, one where his own ears shift down against the top of his head almost ashamed at forgetting. his body remembers, his mind that was clouded feels a little clear, and that apparition that haunted him slowly fades away showing him the reality in front of him.

that kid, the one that shows more sadness than he should looking right at him with his own hand placed atop of his, keeping a hand against his chest.

he had died... no... he's alive, he's right there. ]

You...

[ what did he call him, yes... seven... ]

You shouldn't... be here...

[He stands there, waiting. Watching. He thought for a moment it wasn't going to work, until he could see a shift in their eyes. A weight that slowly lifts within them. They...they're looking right at him. Recognition. His heart might have skipped a beat when they started speaking, to him! His eyes brighten for only a moment, but it returns to concern. No, he doesn't think they're back just yet. Their claim has him puzzled, tilting his head.]

Where is here? [Were his other still seeing something, or talking about the current reality?]

[ here is... for once his eyes look around to take in the darkness around them, done light filters from the ceiling but it's not enough to make out their surroundings.

shadow clicks his tongue, irritated still, angry still, but he holds it back in favor of what's going on here. ]

Black Doom is... [ here? ] I felt him... but also... you can't be here.

[ this place, there's something wrong with it.

it's like a poison to him, the other seems comparatively fine, but there's this tingling sensation like a warning.

but why would it warm shadow against himself? ]

This place will...

[ he's trying to get himself together not knowing that the one before him is already privy to his life. only that anger and hatred didn't consume him at all. ]

[...Ah. The hand holding his other's falters for a second. But then, he decides to let him go after a moment. His other seems to be with him now, aware of their surroundings. He's starting to feel anxious though, worried about where this could go. He can't hide what he is, he doesn't want this to start another fight between them. Not until they locate that masked individual. After that, then...]

...He's not here. He never was. [He couldn't quite meet his others eyes as he assures him. It's not a lie though, he would have known as well.] There was someone else who was here. A...masked faced? I think they're the ones responsible for bringing us together. [He tries to move the subject, but he already knows that is likely ineffective. All he can do, is be ready for whatever his other decides to tell him, or do.]

Edited 2025-03-24 01:47 (UTC)

...?

[ the answer causes shadow to look in the other's direction. how would he know who that is, and if he's sure of that enough to say so. what does he know. he can see the suspicion grow in shadow's eyes as he looks at the child before him.

... ]

Then.

[ there's something still there, a small piece of a foreign matter that runs though his body. he thinks to crush it instantly, but his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room and then fall onto the other. ]

Who all were here?

[ a simple question.

a rhetorical question, but he wants to hear it from him. ]

...Just us when I came to. The masked face, they weren't actually here. Just an illusion. [He's still not looking directly at them, but he can feel their eyes on him.]

When we got separated...I fell into your memories. [He sounds apologetic about it, eventhough it wasn't his intention to see into his memories. Memories that trigger old ones to return. His ears fall back slightly.] You must have been in mine. You...you were still trapped in them when I saw you again.

[ it's extra words that mean little to him, his own irritation flaring when he's given who was here. the mask doesn't matter, but what he felt at that time, that intrusion of power that only ticks him off even more.

did it come from him? is that foreign matter that's going through his body at the moment all because of him? being trapped within memories, it's pathetic on his behalf... the fact that it was fueling his hatred, but somehow that look of suspicion remains in his eyes as he stares at the other.

he's searching for something, a tell, one that the other isn't speaking on. ]

Don't tell me what I already know.

[He turns his head slightly at that, frowning. Were they just fishing for a certain answer from him? Expect him to say something that will give them a reason to do...something? His brows furrow, eyes managing to meet theirs once more.]

...Why don't you tell me what's troubling you first? [He wants to hear what they really want to say to him.]

[ only the guilty won't come clean, but the way the other turns away for that brief moment only to return his gaze. ]

I don't have troubles. [ he can neat it in his voice, the way he sounds irritated as he continues. ] I have enemies.

[ did he expect the other to be one? no, but maybe that's what's unfortunate about who he is in any place. ]

[Because he remembered how his other assaulted him the moment he spoke about how he arrived on Earth. Telling him anymore makes him uneasy. Would they do the same thing again if he told them how he remembered where he came from before? What he had done? His reason for his existence and why he arrived on Earth in the first place? He wouldn't say their relation is that of friend, but he doesn't want to lose whatever they have right now. He...doesn't want to be alone again.

His left hand sparks for a moment as he flexes his fingers. His other will immeditely notice the feeling of that little intruder in their body is gone soon after. He can only sense his other's presence and nothing more.]

I'm not your enemy.

[ that foreign substance dissipates thereafter into something else, whether it heightens shadow's senses of what's before him, or if it's supposed to matter doesn't show on his face. that suspicion remains as he looks at the child before him, his brows furrowing, crimson eyes staring right at the other.

he may have assisted in pushing that fog from shadow's eyes, but that feeling of what he didn't trust simply disappearing by such a subtle movement.

it was him all along, that vile presence that he despised is nothing more than this child. ]

All Black Arms are.

[ it's a connection that should have been severed, every black arms annihilated upon black doom's death. how it should have been, but it's with certainty that shadow pulls away, leaving a gap between them.

of course, the sound of propellers ring out overhead, like something is coming their way. the air units from before thats to hunt them down most likely, this was probably the calm before the storm. there's voices, the ones from before as they chant that they have to capture the escapees or the battle royal will be ruined. they're in here, they're here. heed to the prophet. ]

[...Stop looking at him like that. Like the scientists and soldiers did. He didn't ask for this, he didn't have a choice upon creation. It hurts, seeing his other look at him with distrust and putting this space between them. He can't refute what is the truth. He was purely made to be Black Doom's perfect soldier. His other...even if the professor used the Black Arm's DNA, they were created with good intentions in mind. They are different.

He doesn't understand why. Why does he care anymore what others think? Isn't learning who he is what he always wanted? He could go back to the way things were. Commanding all of Black Arms, see the other before him as nothing more than a defector, a failure. His objective was clear and straight forward back then. Eliminate the problem. He didn't need to think or consider feelings from his victims.

But his heart is tainted, touched by all the people he has met and learned from, the good and bad. He's not who he was before landing on Earth anymore. He can't take any of it back, but he doesn't know if he can keep taking all this pain. A quiet realization. If anyone learned of what he is, there will only be more. He can't go back. Staying wherever here is, might mean Doom may never arrive to his Earth. There's...no where for him.

He closes his eyes for a moment.] ...Then- [His ears twitch, picking up the new sounds entering the area. The captors have caught up with them it seems. Rather than take action, Shadow remains standing there, waiting on their approach.]

[ there's no other way for shadow to look, not when he's always destroyed every one he has came across. it's like breathing to him, considering what they've done to the planet, what they tried to utilize him for, the confusion that shadow had suffered during that time. how else is he supposed to look at him when this copy is no different than a mirror.

the path shadow himself had took was bloody, lives were lost, he acted on his own whims, but before him? why did that connection to black doom feel so close, what has he done with him, none of the memories filled that in at all and shadow can only wonder.

where do their differences meet when it comes to this?

the sounds of their hunters grow, shadow's ears twitch, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance as he stands there to look at the other who remains in place. shadow won't stay. ]

Give me the Chaos Emerald.

. . . [The Chaos Emerald that was left with him. The little bit of trust the other was willing to give him, now being given back. Or maybe he was just seeing something that was never there to begin with. The emerald reappears in his hands. He doesn't need it, something in his mind tells him. Staring at it for a moment, power still weak. Sparks come from his hands as he imbues it with some chaos energy before passing it to his other without incident.

His expression is nondescript. Someone lost in their thoughts, thinking.] Aren't you going to finish the job? [Why haven't they done anything now that they know Doom's blood runs through him? It's unlike them, considering what happened before at the mere hint of the Black Arms.]