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marie-lamb-b · 4 years

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@trashboatprince HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!! Marie Lamb here was your dear Secret Satan!!!

I hope you enjoy this ^^ Because sending you those asks so awfully written really hurt me :’)

Anyways, taking what I thought was your dearest request, here you have it!!

Enjoy it and Happy Holidays!!! ^♡^

(Tumblr version under the cut)

(Trigger Warning: Body horror)

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH--!” Was her last, enraged shriek right before it was abruptly cut due to a cold, sharp pain that took the air out of her chest.

Dreadfully slow, feeling as that mimic of blood raised by her throat, she dared to look down, only to find the tip of a sword, the sword that... that... that impostor used to carry around.

She stabbed her. She tried to kill her! She inserted that foul, sinful weapon through her chest, rejoicing on her fear and silent panic, to later remove the sharp object from her—the only thing that ironically helped her to still stand on her feet, making her collapse onto the ground in a thump.

And as the inky blood run through her by routes that shouldn’t, clogging her lungs, dripping by her mouth, nose, and eye socket, and filling her ears with a deafening ringing, she saw them. Saw the impostor claiming her errand boy; saw the mangled wolf complying the silent orders of the fake angel, diving over the man and knocking him out in a swift movement; saw them picking the unconscious body of Henry up. And with steps that no longer needed to be furtive, they left, leaving her in solitude in the middle of the debris filled ballroom, waiting for the malicious ink to claim her, to finish the job and leave her for dead.

No... no, No, No! She was so close! After ages, she had finally found it! the heart of the most perfect Boris so far... Every other Boris she found and harvested, all grotesquely flawed with twisted muzzles, mangled arms, tails that shouldn’t be or even extra fingers; none of them worthy, none of them stable, their insides never did more than prolong what seemed inevitable. That, until she saw him.

His only flaw might have been the eyes –notches pointing to the wrong direction. And still, he was stable, he was strong, he could stand next to the demon itself and still prevail as immaculate as if taken right from the old reels.

He was the one. He was the closest to perfect. His heart could fix Alice at last! His... His heart...

She didn’t even have the chance to experience it, to prove that it was indeed the final piece, to see the results of all that has been her hard work! She didn’t...

Oh, Alice... She was so close, so almost perfect... even if she already was, she’d never have the chance to see it by herself, not anymore.

Did she achieve it? Was she at least stable enough? Would she even forgive her for all the atrocities she did to obtain what she desired most?

Black viscous tears trickled at the edge of her good eye as more questions roamed through her mind in her last moments. Hardly could differentiate whether they were real tears or just more of that cursed substance menacing to take her away from inside out. Not like it made any difference at this point.

She closed her eye, unwilling to see what she was about to inevitably feel. Only the ringing in her ears filled the deafening silence that solitude was.

She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t! She was just trying to fulfill what was promised to her. It wasn’t Alice’s fault to be so imperfect, it wasn’t! They... no. He. He was the one at fault. He was the real guilty! He made her that way... if only he’d have given her a chance instead of ditching her right away...

But now it didn’t matter anymore. She would never see her perfect face –if she even managed to make her perfect.

Did it worth it? So much hard work for... for... Nothing? Was she daring to doubt it?! How could—Of course it worthed it! Even if she’s not there to see it herself...

Soft, rhythmic thumps started to take place along the ringing in her ears. So quiet at first, she wasn’t really able to notice them at first. Only when the weak light that shone through her eyelid felt disturbed, she realized of the stop of that thumping sound, which ended with a rather abrupt stomp right next to her.

Something grabbed her arm, lifting it. Something solid it was, or at least more solid than she was in that moment. Her hand was pressed against something warm, rubbing its back, and drips hit her fingers; they felt so different, so alien to her own melting skin, warmer than her at first, but turning colder as they slithered through her arm until they became part of her own ink.

Was that a sob, she heard?

Slow, painfully slow, she struggled to open her eye. The dull light felt so blinding, even although there was something obtruding it from her sight, but was enough to engulf the figure right before—above her, backlighted, like a halo for a true angel.

Her features so delicate and soft, with a beauty only seen in the old cartoons, yet so very much real, so very much... angelic. She was so close to perfection, so close to be the true and only Alice Angel, as she should have always been. But even if she was close, she saw, still there was something off, something missing. However, it didn’t deter the smile that warily yet gleeful started to spread through her face.

“My sweet... little angel...” She hoarsely whispered, weakly reaching with her free hand to her face, thumb stretching in attempt to wipe away those tears made of ink from her face.

But her unstable, dying body felt too much the strain of that simple action, as ink clogged her so useless respiratory tract, sending her to a cough fit and spasms all through her body, quickening the ink claims over her, melting more and more.

With hurry in her mind and panic in her heart, the angel in desperation held her up in a sitting position, engulfing her with her arms, afraid of letting go, of losing her so soon. All the while her sobs hitched and jerked her body with every grasp of air.

“No... please, stop...”

“No, you stop!” Was the anguished answer she got, as inky tears streamed unstoppably, drenching the angel’s cheeks. “We... we’re supposed to do this... do this together. You weren’t supposed to... You shouldn’t have...” But the lump on her throat didn’t allow her to articulate any of her thoughts.

The woman in her rubbery arms tried to reach once again for her, but stopped midways, stare locked in her mournful face, on the frown that shouldn’t be there. But she’s the one at fault for upsetting her.

“I’m...” She reached again, thumb wiping away the angel’s tears, as she leaned on her hand, holding it with one of her own. “I’m sorry, Alice.” Was what she managed to hoarsely say, as her face softened, eye filling with reluctant acceptation and smile stretching in feeble reassurance.

“No... Susie, please, don’t--!” Panic filled the angel’s voice, making it quiver in her plea. “I don’t--... Don’t want to lose you, Susie, please...!” She managed to shout in a whisper, voice betraying her bleak attempt at bravery.

And so the angel curled over the fallen one, her body quaking entirely between sobs and gasps, holding Susie as tightly as she could, but afraid to squeeze too much, as she already felt the woman’s body dripping between her grasp.

Despair was not something she ever desired to see placed in her beautiful, sweet face. Yet there they were, feeling useless on how to comfort her little angel as she was the reason such despair took over her.

With all her insignificant might, she lifted again her gooey hand, intending to stroke some lose tuffs of hair off her face, but didn’t do much than just stick it together behind her ear with her dripping fingers.

What else could she do? the more the time passed, the closer she was to... to leave her... The ink was claiming her as tribute of her own death, and she knew that only would bring more suffering to her poor angel, leaving her alone, at her own luck in this hell she wasn’t meant to belong. She didn’t deserve this...

Treasuring the warm she gave her as her own heat faded, Susie let her head to limply tilt forward, placing it right on her shaking chest, feeling the soft, rhythmic beats of the heart that lied within her, as her eye closed while she only focused on them.

How many more would have she needed? She was the closest to perfection she ever was...! They were so close...

It was soft, but determination was gleaming through her half-lidded eye. Her angel was suffering, might not have been stable enough to resist it, and she was dying, would be lucky if any bit of her conscience blooms in one of those pathetic half-formed shapes; that would be too much to ask.

“My an... gel...” She hoarsely called her, pulling way too gently her chin so she could look at her. “I need... to ask you--”

“Susie, stop. Stop talking.” Alice begged with fear leaking through her quivering voice. “Don’t waste your strength. Please...!”

“No... Alice...” She was breathing raggedly, holding back coughs that tickled her throat. “Please, I need... I need you to listen...”

The fear in her round eyes had no right to be; she should be cheery and happy as the angel she was! Then again, hell was no place for angels, and she failed to take her out of there...

She had to do it. She needed her to be safe somehow.

“Alice... please...” Susie gently held her hand, the one engulfing her, and in a slow motion she placed the angel’s hand on her chest. “I need you... to take my heart.”

“What?!” She recoiled in shock, taking her hand away from the organ; some ink tendrils flying away from the fallen one due to the suddenness of her movement. “Susie I-- I, no! Susie, I can’t--!”

“You have to!” She winced at her own command, feeling the ink raising in her throat but containing it as best as she could, though a couple of coughs escaped before she was able to keep talking as weakly as before. “Alice, you have to. I... Alice, I’m not... not going to make it. If you don’t take it, the ink will claim it...!”

“But... Susie, if I do that, you... You won’t--...” Inky tears welled up in her black rounded eyes all over again, a knot in her throat was stopping her from verbalize the so dreadful thought: the total loss of her angel on hell.

Although even if grief was glistening in her golden eye, she already made up her mind. This was for her, even if the angel didn’t want to see it that way.

“If you don’t take it...” She pauses, slowly trying to reach for her hand, though her fingers were mostly melted by now, more like stubby shapes of what could have been fingers as they kept dripping more and more. “...then, Alice... I’ll be lost. No guarantees... of me returning as I am...”

“You don’t know it!” She protested, gently squeezing her hand back. “You... You already did! You can! You can come back!”

“What if I don’t?” She begged, her eye wide in a plea that, despite all her courage, couldn’t hide the growing fear of being lost in the darkness of the ink. “What if... if I become... one of those wrong, hideous monsters?!” Desperation drowned her voice. “What if I’m back as one... only to not recognize you... and attack you, hurt you?”

Alice was at loss of words. Denial wouldn’t let the possibility to down in her.

“No! Susie, that won’t happen!”

“How can you be so sure?” She defied, her hoarsely voice a stark contrast to the angel’s strong yet trembling voice. “What makes you believe... something like that won’t happen?”

Alice clenched her grasp around her fallen angel, as the hand she was holding was no more than a shapeless slime.

“Because...Because I know you, Susie.” She shook her head, as some drips of her own unstable and stressed ink flew around. “That won’t happen. You’ll be back as you! And... and then... Then we’ll be back together! And we’ll work our way out of here, just... just like we said!” With hollow hope she tried to reassure herself, giving away a cracked smile in a vain attempt to convince herself. “You’ll be back, Susie. You will. I know...!”

“And how long will it take?” The question froze the angel in her empty reassurances. “Do you remember... how long it took last time...? When I found you... you were almost a shapeless slug... unstable...” She paused, her voice just a thread from the knot in her throat and not from the ink. “I... I almost lose you...!”

“But... Susie, no. I’m more stable now. I can wait for you--!”

“No, you can’t!” Susie cut her off rather harshly, and painfully. “My angel, you’re... You’re not stable enough. The demon still can hurt you. You are spilling already your own ink...! And you still need... the hearts...”

Silence filled their space as Alice tried to think about it for a couple of seconds.

“I-- I'll stay out of sight! He can’t hurt me if he doesn’t find me! And... And I’ll harvest them! I can do it! I’ll just—just--...” She couldn’t keep talking, as the fearful yet disapproval stare of Susie relied on her widely.

“Do you realize... where those hearths come from? You can’t step... into his territory... Is too dangerous... and the ink...!” She tried to shift a little in her hold, to rub away the tear-like ink drips that flow from her good eye, finding rather difficult now that she didn’t have any remnant of legs. “Please, Alice... take it... Take my heart!”

“No...” She tightly shook her head, never breaking eye contact. “No... Susie, no. I can’t--...! I can’t...”

“You have to.” Was her final resolution, as she once again reached to grab Alice’s hand, this time with both of her shapeless, stump-like slimy rest of hands, and placed hers tenderly on her melting chest. “The ink... is already claiming me... Don’t let it take me away...!”

Between hiccups and sobs, she takes her hand away once again to wipe her own tears, hiding her stare as with a clenched jaw, she jerkily shakes her head in a painful and reluctant nod.

Were her body a bit more defined, she’d have slumped her shoulders in relief on her acceptance.

“That’s my angel.” She said, accompanied by a lovingly smile she still was able to muster.

Still jerkily, Alice placed her hand on her chest once more, spreading her fingers around the place where her heart was meant to be, pointed nails taking their position, rotating her wrist in hopes it would make it swift and smooth, and she bit her lower lip trying to gather enough courage to do as commanded.

“Alice...” Her whispering voice stopped her tracks, face jolting to her fallen angel’s. “Be strong for me, alright?” Her answer was a more assertive nod, biting her inner cheeks as tears fogged the las sight she had from Susie. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Susie.” Alice said with a cracked voice, as she leaned forwards to have one last kiss from her fallen angel.

Fear, sorrow and passion blended together as she pressed against the lips of her true, although fallen, angel. Dark tears ran down by both set of cheeks, yet Susie ones merged with her dripping ink altogether.

No much of her body was left as they still were unable to part away for an eternal farewell. Her hair, which Alice still held with her hand behind to straight her up, wasn’t more than a gooey mass that fell off in chunks as it joined the ever-growing pool of ink that used to be Susie’s body. She had no legs to stead her up, no arms to engulf her, but still her face, her lips, and her chest remained as solid as they could, at least to allow the angel to still embrace her fallen love.

Lips still pressed against each other and with closed eyes, she set her hand and fingers on her chest, readying herself to do as requested. She pressed hard, as much in her hold as in her kiss. And with a flick and a twist of her wrist, she drilled her way into her already soft chest, wrapping her fingers around the still beating heart, ripping it off her body right before the ink decided to claim that part as well.

And with no more to hold onto, she dared to open her eyes, only to see the still lingering face of Susie before the ink took her away definitively. She looked so relieved, so... peaceful, with a smile that actually reached her once scarred side with the purest sincerity. She was at peace, she would, now that she was sure her angel would be safe.

The angel stayed there in the deafening silence of the ballroom. The ink puddle that used to be Susie already gone, taken away by the malicious substance that keep them all trapped. And Alice stayed there; quiet sobs filled the emptiness that now resided in what used to be her domain, and with blurred sight she stared at the organ she left behind in hopes to save her.

The heart still beat, soft rhythmic thumps only audible for her. This was all that’s left of the sweet fallen angel, and she couldn’t do more than hold it tight in her embrace, afraid to let go, afraid to lose her at all, as the sobs grew louder and louder in the middle of her mourning.

And yet she already knew well what she must do with the heart. Susie gave it to her to protect her, to save her. Maybe not now, she wasn’t ready. But she had to. After all, this would accomplish what she always wanted, what she always worked for her. It was for Susie, to become her perfect angel.

#BATIM #Bendy and the Ink Machine #Secret Satan #Secret Satan 2019 #BATIM Secret Satan 2019 #Susie Campbell #Alice Angel #Susie/Alice #Trigger Warning #TW: Body horror #I did a thing!#I wrote a thing!#Lamb's work

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wyrdsistersofthedas · 7 years

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And They Called It...Tainted Lore

Thanks for the message, Nony! You make an excellent point. In Last Flight, Isseya performs a version of the Joining ritual:

“A tarnished silver chalice, a pouch of lyrium dust, and three small bottles of smoky gray glass sat within the box. Shabby velvet cushions, worn bald in places so that the horsehair padding peeped out in dark bristles, cradled the objects. Two of the bottles were filled with murky black fluid, while the third was nearly empty. Scarcely more than a few drops lay at the bottom of the bottle, but Isseya thought it would be more than enough to meet her needs. It took only a drop of Archdemon’s blood to seal the Joining.

....Alongside Garahel’s box, she set a knife and a bottle of blood that she’d taken from a hurlock the previous day. The hurlock’s blood was blackish red, but not nearly as absolute in color or as viscous as the contents of the ancient bottles in Garahel’s box. Those held the blood of Toth, the Archdemon of the Third Blight, who had been slain at Hunter Fell almost two hundred years ago.

....She poured a small pyramid of sparkling blue lyrium dust into the empty chalice, then poured the hurlock blood over it until the dust had dissolved. Into the swirling mixture, she added a single drop of the ancient Archdemon’s blood. Cold black steam rose from the chalice, carrying with it the curdled, alien scent of darkspawn corrosion....

Opening herself to the Fade, Isseya drew a strand of magic and channeled it carefully into the chalice. The murky liquid swirled more quickly in the cup, and on its whirling surface she began to see the reflections of nonexistent creatures stretched and distorted by the vortex.”

(Last Flight, pgs. 146-148)

The ritual described thus far is probably the baseline for all Joinings, the most basic of components needed to successfully create a Grey Warden. The rest of what Isseya does, however, was a variation that employed blood magic to force the griffon she was performing the ritual on to accept the taint.

So is this the same ritual that created our warden, Alistair, and the rest of the Grey Wardens? Does this prove that you only need lyrium, darkspawn blood, and a drop of archdemon essence to do the Joining? Eh, depends on who you ask. Last Flight describes the Joining ritual, but so does the RPG Core Rulebook. It says:

“[The first would-be Wardens] sought a way to battle the darkspawn and protect themselves from the Taint. They found this in the Joining ritual. It is unknown exactly how the Grey Wardens discovered the ritual that has allowed them to fight the darkspawn and remain free of the Taint. Rumors abound of blood magic rituals or ancient secrets used to create the dangerous formula which transformed the Wardens, but the truth of the Joining remains a mystery.” (RPG Core Rulebook, p. 252)

“During the ritual, recruits drink from a chalice containing a mixture of darkspawn blood, lyrium, herbs, and a drop of blood from an Archdemon. This potent mixture kills outright many who imbibe it. Those who survive are forever after Grey Wardens, connected to the darkspawn by the corrupted blood they’ve consumed.” (RPG Core Rulebook, p. 258)

So which of these sources is correct? Last Flight doesn’t have herbs and the RPG Rulebook doesn’t talk about the use of magic in the mixture. It is also worth noting that both of these sources were written by non-Bioware authors. There are mistakes in both of these sources and lore variations that differ from Bioware sources, so both could ultimately be proven to be incorrect or incomplete. So what does a 100% Bioware source, like The World of Thedas, vol. 1, say about the Joining ritual? Even less, it turns out, than the secondary sources:

No magic, no lyrium, no herbs, just darkspawn and archdemon blood. Given that The World of Thedas series was written as if it were an actual book in the game and follows Bioware’s internal world state, it makes sense that it is sparse on details about the super secretive Joining ritual.

One last account of what the Joining ritual entails comes from former chief lore guru, David Gaider, who only mentions the need of a substance with an extremely high concentration of the taint plus some magic.

So what does all of this add up to? A lot of different stories about what it takes to perform the Joining. Looks like the Grey Wardens have done a good job of muddying the waters and preventing the uninitiated from knowing what happens in the Joining. Even those of us who have been through it don’t know. ;)

I suspect the same conclusion that you suggest, Nony, and that all of these versions are true to a degree. The ritual may have variations and it could have changed over time depending on what the Wardens think will ensure the highest survival rate. If we end up in Weisshaupt in the future, we may find out more.

The Power of Blood

Ah, yes! Avernus’ creepy research! I should have included that in the original post about controlling the taint. His experiments certainly could shed light on how the whole taint business works:

“The taint allows us to sense the darkspawn. The longer we survive with the taint in our blood, the more potent it becomes. Unfortunately, this corruption will eventually overwhelm the Warden; over time, it devours both mind and body, leaving nothing. But what if the spread of the corruption could be stopped, or contained in some way? What if the Warden could become more powerful, without having that power kill him? How great would that power be? Would it be enough to stop the demons?

The Joining ritual is crude. We take into ourself the blood of the darkspawn in the most obvious way. Most die from the corruption immediately; it is, after all, poison. There must be some way to refine the Joining. Isolate the true power that is found in darkspawn blood, and leave behind the evil that kills us.

I can feel the corruption starting to take its toll on my body. I must not succumb. There is too much work to be done. Through my magic I've been able to slow its inevitable spread, but not stop it completely. I am starting to hear things, even while awake: A voice--more beautiful than any other--that calls to me from the depths. In my dreams, I see the Black City, and I am drawn towards it. There is something there, an answer to what this taint is, this taint that we share with the darkspawn...

--From the notes of Avernus.” (Codex entry)

It seems that magic, and more likely blood magic, can slow the effects of the taint and aging all together! Avernus looks pretty good for a 200+ year old man. So perhaps a blood mage could prevent the taint from taking hold. Could Morrigan have been keeping the Warden’s party from contracting the taint? Maybe.

Avernus’ work certainly seems to hint that a warden could learn to control the taint in their body in a more deliberate way. In its most minor form, a warden can learn to enhance their abilities and harm others through the taint.

The Power of Blood talents don’t say whether the Warden’s victims are tainted or not, but most of the descriptions suggest that is probably not the case. The blood does hurt enemies that the warden attacks, but it says nothing about the taint spreading to them. It would be the height of reckless to be flinging tainted blood around with the warden’s companions right there. So it is most likely that Avernus’ research allows for more control over the taint in a warden and access to more of its power, but does not actually cause the taint to spread.

And Avernus has hinted that he has made yet more breakthroughs:

“....As the Architect surmised, considerable untapped power exists within Grey Warden blood. When properly prepared, its effects can be remarkable.

But my research has also revealed some alarming implications, which I've attached in the old Acanthan cipher. I urge you to send this to the First Warden at once.

I will conduct further tests as long as I'm able. My documentation is very thorough—if time finally claims me, others may follow in my footsteps.

Avernus” (Codex Entries)

What do you bet that, even if the HoF Warden killed him, Avernus’ research made it to Weisshaupt. I doubt we are done hearing about this. The Power of Blood choice is included in the Keep, and even though the HoF will not appear in future games, their choices will likely reverberate in future games. (I wonder what was in that potion of Avernus’ that Hawke drank. Sigh. I probably should have thought about whether or not it was smart to drink a potion from a crazy warden mage doing research on isolating and enhancing the taint. At least that choice isn’t in the Keep. I’ve put my Hawkes through enough!)

Great points, Nony! Thanks for adding to our post with your message!

-MM

#dragon age #dragon age last flight #dragon age rpg #taint #Grey Wardens #the joining ritual #the architect #wend the wyrds a wondering #morta's musings #long post

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