Blood-Soaked Shores [Solo]

Well. The smell had improved.
Even if she was still facedown in that muck, the sensation.....the FEEL of ...everything around her. The responsiveness of the world around her and the ....link she felt with it. She knew what was going on. She'd felt this before, and well....at least she knew she wasn't dead. Not that she'd been particularly concerned about that. She grunted... and slowly peeled her head up from those crimson waters, shallow as they were, they seemed to stretch into every direction.

"Still alive. Bingo. Another day, another evisceration." She coughed softly, wiping the blood from her face as she raised her head, and sighed heavily. At the sight of a familiar dark, shrouded figure, sitting not far from where she was, and of all things, sitting across from a skeleton, soaked in blood. And the both of them were playing chess.

"I hate you. I really hate you." She groaned not even having the energy to stand up, gently THUMPING her head against the hard rock beneath that shallow sea of red.

"How inconsiderate of you. You don't think I just sit down here all day, being bored, do you?" That deep voice asked her, the soft slide and clack informing her that he'd moved a piece. She furrowed her brows.

"Figured you'd not be so damn calm. I almost died, you know." She noted sourly, slowly sitting up as she took a moment to look at the man as he and the skeleton played. She tried to peer at the barebones form, she had no idea who that even was.

Clack.
"Just because a piece is out of the game, doesn't mean it's gone forever Giselle. You'll be awake soon. On your very own game you've been playing for longer than most." He stated simply, words that made her head throb and her world spin very briefly, both in cringe at the metaphor and the fact that ...well...he was vaguely right.

"Chess is a very poor soil for metaphors. Lots of rules and shit. Are you going to say that it's time I go from a pawn to a queen?" She asked sourly, leering for a moment at the board. A little...confused. It wasn't even a normal board...it was huge. And it wasn' one game it was.... tons of little..islands of pieces. Each one seemingly having it's own. oh goddammit.

"This is stupid." She growled.

"I wouldn't need the metaphor if you could follow these lessons without them. Unless you'd rather I simply cut you to pieces like last time." He noted with no particular emotion attached to the subject. A flippant apathy that frankly irritated her more because ....well...he spent all of his time in her soul, he was probably right, but she'd have much preferred if he gave her more leeway to insult him.

She stood up, barely, god why was she so tired.... and raised herself up to her full height. Which didn't feel like much, even with the man sitting down. "And why do I need you to help me? I'll finish pulling myself back together soon, I'll take some time to recover, but I don't need any lessons in the meantime." She murmured sourly. Defiant at the insinuation that she NEEDED him for anything. He'd played his part. Gotten her to realize that he was a resource, a template to .....get ...vague inspiration from, as she moved forward. He'd done his job, so why we he still HERE?

"Who'se sword did you pull out to block that last attack?" He asked with all of the casualness in the world.

She made a face. And ..... said nothing for a few seconds. Watching as the man continued to move the pieces around the literal fucking metaphor that would likely dominate this conversation at some point. She just KNEW the metaphors would keep coming.

"That would be your sword, Your Majesty. Do I need your permission next time?" She asked through slightly gritted teeth.

"No. His Majesty is dead. Has been for hundreds and hundreds of years. You pulled out My sword. And in doing so, you asked for my Help."

She twitched. "What....is the fucking difference? Your Majesty. Emperor-kun. Yhwacht. Source of all my zombie power extraordinare."

Those eyes shifted and stared up at Giselle, making her freeze up for just an instant, a sensation that still startled her to this day.

"No. The Emperor, lived and died long ago. A man who waged wars. Allowed no concessions. Refused to die quietly in a whimper, and instead fell in battle with victory in his eyes. I, Giselle, am merely the power he gave you. That watched over you. That continues to watch over you as you struggle and tear yourself to pieces. I, who will continue to look after you until you are strong enough for us to part ways." He murmured, before his gaze returned to the board before him.

And THAT made Giselle freeze on the spot.

At first Giselle wondered if she'd misheard him, her brows furrowing ever so slightly before she chuckled, her shoulders relaxing a little as she made her way over to the board. "Very funny. Mind telling me what the hell you mean by that? No offense, Big guy, but My powers are the only reason I've been alive this long. What was all that ....shit about not fearing death before?"

The man glanced in her direction and slowly sat upright, taking a moment to watch her. Moments that stretched unnervingly between them as slowly, a steady and budding anxiety coursed through her frame.

" Just because Death isn't something to be feared, doesn't mean it isn't a natural part of the worlds. You were robbed of life before you had a chance to live it. Wouldn't it be just as cruel to rob you of your eventual end?"

She STAMPED her foot onto the chess board and narrowed her eyes at him. "Well tough fucking tiddies, big guy. I wanted to die plenty of times in the past. Where was 'the death I deserved' then?! I finally get something together and NOW you wanna take it away?!" She demanded, kicking over a few pieces in the sudden budding broil of her anger.

"One day, you'll be ready to die." He turned and met her indignant gaze. There was no sympathy, no comfort, but also no concern. As if he was entirely confident in what he was telling her. And in truth, she understood she wasn't unkillable. DIFFICULT to kill, absolutely, and some part of her ultimately knew that at some point she was bound to eat the big one. But ...for some reason.... she didn't like this.

"Well thanks but no thanks. If I'm gonna die, its gonna be from biting off more than I can chew or going fucking insane. I don't need YOU giving me the gift of christmas heart-attack in my sleep!" She suddenly hissed, and grew her weapon, the blood coalescing into a blade that she pointed at the man's chest.

In an instant, the weapon shattered on the spot from a swipe from his hand, and suddenly the handle was plunged into her chest, startling her and making her stagger back as she gurgled?! Coughing up blood as she stumbled back and fell onto her back in the shallow sea of blood. Confusion written across her face.


"Are you truly afraid of dying, Giselle?" He asked dully, standing to his full height, before calmly pressing his boot down on her chest, until she sank down into the blood, suddenly so much deeper as soon, he was holding her beneath the surface. And yet even as she struggled weakly, she could still hear him clear as day, even as the panic settled in.

"Or are you afraid of living without my gift?"