oblivion . jupe, day three

[pogue]

J  U  P  I  T  E  R

He's still shaking when he finally makes his way out of the dome they'd fought in, Carmen's cannon clinging to his shoulders with gnarled fingers and sharpened claws. Red, it seeps into his soul from every angle as he trudges forward, swinging a blade covered in skin and scarlet, drip drip drip of blood carving a temporary path behind him as he walks, crimson staining the sands.

The wind, soft and sweet and everything deadly, blows away any trace of him almost as soon as it has been made.

His story goes with it- broken boy doing terrible things, shattering himself into pieces of glass just so that he has something to carve into the flesh of those he deems enemies. Carmen was not the latter, but he in selfish and cowardice he could never have brought himself to call her an ally, either. Broken boy, terrible things, looking into the eyes of Circe Murdock was like looking into a mirror painted blue, clashing against the red he has drowned himself in if only so that he could not feel.

He hates the world, then Circe, then himself- in that order. At least he thinks.

But there's uncertainty in bones too strong to break, years of training to mask the fact that in every spot of the universe he is just a teenage boy- shaking with rage and fear and everything in between, claiming none of it and all of it at the same time. Easier to submerge than try to stay afloat, to train his eyes on the sands ahead and attempt to ignore the sound of a cannon that rattles between his ears, echoing and echoing again and again, over and over amongst the sky and the stars.

Until they come to meet him- glittering iridescent in the sunlight, string bound to everything and nothing.

It calls his name in the same way the rage does, unrelenting and unforgiving, something he cannot fight against and something he cannot hold back. 

Into void, into night- he follows a star written in string.
Into oblivion.

[Critically succeeds labyrinth roll ; Thread of Stars]