Laios Touden (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
myhungryass) wrote2024-08-04 09:33 am
myhungryass) wrote2024-08-04 09:33 am
Laios's Heart Game
It's dark, and you are not quite conscious. You have the sense that you are climbing; that you have been climbing for a long time. You can feel the burn in your thighs, the ache in your calves. You're a little too hot, and what you're wearing is a little too heavy. You have the sense of taking a last weary, heaving step onto a plateau.
You find yourself in a dark, blank place, dominated by a huge, dead monster, building sized, as big as a tower. Each of its enormous heads that you can see laid out before you is easily the size of a ballroom. There is blood on its lips and nostrils, blood crusted around its empty eye-sockets, but there is a feeling of hollowness about it. On second thought, you're not quite sure if it's a corpse or a moult.
There is no sign of the stairs you vaguely remember climbing. You are standing on the surface of some opaque black liquid. It feels almost completely solid under your feet, springy, but your footsteps leave ripples spreading out in rings... all around you is a velvety, impenetrable darkness. The only thing you can see is the vast, lifeless beast in front of you, illuminated as if by spotlights, though no actual light-source can be found.
Its orifices are mostly clogged with blood, but somehow, as you stare at it, one vaulted nostril on the wolf's head begins to seem like an archway... the lolling tongue hanging out of the rhinoceros's head like an entry ramp... the exposed, hollow eye-socket on the eagle's head like a portal...
Of course, if you're not quite ready to step inside a monster, you could keep walking around its body and see what you find.
You find yourself in a dark, blank place, dominated by a huge, dead monster, building sized, as big as a tower. Each of its enormous heads that you can see laid out before you is easily the size of a ballroom. There is blood on its lips and nostrils, blood crusted around its empty eye-sockets, but there is a feeling of hollowness about it. On second thought, you're not quite sure if it's a corpse or a moult.
There is no sign of the stairs you vaguely remember climbing. You are standing on the surface of some opaque black liquid. It feels almost completely solid under your feet, springy, but your footsteps leave ripples spreading out in rings... all around you is a velvety, impenetrable darkness. The only thing you can see is the vast, lifeless beast in front of you, illuminated as if by spotlights, though no actual light-source can be found.
Its orifices are mostly clogged with blood, but somehow, as you stare at it, one vaulted nostril on the wolf's head begins to seem like an archway... the lolling tongue hanging out of the rhinoceros's head like an entry ramp... the exposed, hollow eye-socket on the eagle's head like a portal...
Of course, if you're not quite ready to step inside a monster, you could keep walking around its body and see what you find.
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Like making pork broth.
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. . .
Do elaborate!
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But, in the end, you have a rich and delicious broth that can be the foundation for many incredible dishes. Without going through all that pain and effort... and the disgusting parts... and the tedious parts... and dealing with the unpleasant ingredients... you'd never be able to create the same kind of food.
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I will remember that.
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[he hefts the winged lion plush lightly]
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A memory washes over you.
If there was any sense of distance when you viewed the other memories, there is not in this one. You live it. You are Laios.
You are a giant four-headed monster. Finally as strong as you have always craved, as untouchable, as free. You leap up into the air, shattering the false sky of the dungeon above you, bursting through into the true sky of the surface. The shattered edges of the barrier look tasty… you swoop down take a few bites, gnawing, swallowing down the mana of its magic, before flapping up higher.
In the sky flies a monster even bigger than you… an enormous floral-print coatl. It comes at you in a flash, mouth gaping and swallows you whole.
That’s fine. It can’t hurt you. But it’s dark and claustrophobic in there. You slit its belly open with a talon and fly free once more. Far below is a spiral of stone, reaching down into the waters of the dungeon…
And then you see, on its tip, a familiar figure. A hated figure. Blond, armoured, stupid looking, boring. It’s the body you used to have. You swoop down silently and close your talon delicately around its body.
You lift it up to look closer. It smells… good? Rich. It’s talking, but that’s not important.
…that’s right. This was your body, but something else is using it. Something infinite… but something that contains a desire of its own.
A desire. That’s what smells so good. Your mouths water. You want to taste that. …that’s right… you wanted… you wanted to know what that would taste like.
You pop the little tallman demon into your mouth and chew. But it’s too much? It’s infinite. You have to spit it out and spit it out… but you keep eating. You’re dimly aware that slits have opened in the sky around you and huge eyes are peering out… huge spindly arms are reaching down to scoop people into another world… but you don’t have much attention to spare for that. You keep eating. Your friends are on the stone spire with it, and you don’t eat them, but you keep eating the demon. Eating, and eating… eating as it swarms over you. And then…
It starts to eat you back.
It hurts. Thousands of tiny wounds, over and over again, into the tender parts of your body. It stabs into your eyes, your eyelids, your nostrils, your tongues. Its many hated faces and your own blood darken your vision. It’s killing you.
It’s a contest of wills, a contest of appetites, a contest for survival. Eat or be eaten. You eat and are eaten. You try to shake it off your body, but it is legion.
You fall.
But you chew. You chew. And swallow.
You can’t feel your enormous body any more. Its eyes have been eaten. Part of its brain has been eaten. It’s dying… it’s dying. But you’re still here. You’re still alive, in the dark hollow of its being, and you’ve bitten into the thing that you wanted to eat.
The demon pours itself into the space after you. But you’ve consumed part of it, made it yourself. In here, now, you’re on equal footing. It grabs you, turns you, tries to grab that shining gem of desire out of your hand.
“You— Why do you have that?!” it cries.
But you evade, almost effortlessly. This thing is yours now. You’ve already swallowed. “...I wanted to know…” you answer, holding the desire-gem aloft. “Normally you would be an existence beyond human comprension. And this “desire” that a being like yourself is so completely fixated on…”
You take another bite. “I was wondering what it might taste like.”
It leaps for you, transforming in mid-air, yelling at you to stop. That that belongs to it—that’s its appetite. But you can play by the same rules. You pin it beneath your enormous paw, and you keep eating. You tell it this isn’t something it needs. That this desire was poison to it. You argue…
But whatever it might say, you know you’re right. It has to play by the rules of the living world now. It’s eat or be eaten.
You eat until you’re completely stuffed.
And the winged lion starts to drift apart. It can’t feel desire for anything anymore. It’s lost what was keeping it attached to this world… which means it’s losing its identity. But it’s not meant to have identity. You tell it that it’s meant to be freer than that.
This does not make a good impression.
Before it can completely break apart completely it turns and grabs you, and curses you. It tells you your greatest desire will never be granted. (Does this mean you can’t resurrect Falin?! The thought flashes through your mind.)
With that, it breaks up completely, into blinding, stinging motes of light. You can’t see…
…the memory fades.]
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...I. I guess that's. How I. Defeated? The... demon?
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You know, all things said, it it somewhat—shocking, and yet, so unsurprising at the same time.
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There is truly nobody like you.
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The thing is... it. It tasted really good...
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. . . was it the best thing you've ever tasted?
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Hm, no. Even just with what I've remembered so far, I wouldn't say that.
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That's good.
—what is?
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It's hard to say. My favourite food is cheesecake, so that would be an easy answer, but don't you think the way things taste depend on who made them, and who you get to eat them with, and how hungry you are, and all those circumstances? I don't think I can name just one best taste.
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There's so much still to try. How lovely.
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I think there are a lot of parts of life that I—never really . . . embraced. Because I didn't have anybody to share them with.
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