daybreakacademy | Memory Sharicus

About 8 am on July 15th, Rex does something stupid in his usual genius way. It was meant to be a small, simple test run of a method to scan a person and instantly gain all the data he needed to produce a Phantom.

The small field the spell was meant to spread just kept growing, until popping like a bubble with the most counterintuitive sound of all- two seconds of white noise, sounding as if it was coming from inches away. Not everyone heard it. But everyone who did...

It's a painless process, almost ticklish and instantaneous as numerous coloured orbs fly out from their chest, taking wild curving trajectories that launch them all over the academy and some of Soleil, coming to a sudden stop and hovering silently for just a few seconds.

That's when they start to slowly float towards the nearest possible recipient of the memory they contain, accelerating as they get closer as if thought and mind have a unique sort of magnetism.

It's sort of beautiful to see, really, not that Rex will notice because 60% of his mind is consumed with fear he will get into trouble and the Phantom project will be compromised. On the other hand, the Phantom project could provide the perfect scapegoat. So about six hours after the initial event, he released his latest creation- the Phantom mischief-maker, Waggery!

What a disaster.

(( ooc: The planning post is here! Be careful to warn for the nastier memories! If you already have memories planned to share, feel free to write them as a top level or just put up your character and link to the planning/make it a free for all. There'll be a post below for Waggery shenanigans and random NPC memories up for grabs. ))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ S U F F E R I N G ]

Your exposed spine touches the damp grass of the riverside. Your body is splayed awkwardly, half because it's a body still foreign to you, misshapen and warped and wrong. The other half is from the magical bindings that pin you down.

Your thrashing and snarling has given way to sobs, rasps, and whimpers. Your tail aches where it's been severed, your thigh's been flayed, raw muscles been exposed to air, and under all that lies the ever-present ache at your center. It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, you're so hungry. Every part of you aches with it. It's a dark and choking and heavy thing and you can't breathe.

You've got to get out. You've got to eat. You've got to reach Coco, your girl, your sweet hija, the only one who loves you, the only one who could possibly forgive or understand. Your daughter is waiting. Your daughter is safe. She's waiting. You're so hungry.

The hunger tears at your memory. On some level you know it can't all be so, but that horrible aching lack in you rips at each part. That audience wasn't cheering they were holding you hostage. That friend wasn't there, he just wanted your attention. She didn't love you, to hate you so fast. Nobody loved you. You can't argue it.

It all takes place at ones, the poking and prodding of musculature, the ache, your mind folding in on itself. It's just as he's prepared to pick up snarling again that the flayed skin seals up. It all moves fast, stitches weaving the wound shut at lightning speed. Your back arches with your howl. Fear rushes through. You know by now what a new stitch means. It doesn't take long. The telekinesis slices up your middle. You scream. You writhe and try to escape. It cuts higher and deeper and your shriek ever louder for some scrape of mercy. It splits at your collar. It pulls you apart, a pain you can't believe but you can't pass out, your consciousness doesn't flicker, you can't die.

You've been ripped open before. Memories flicker and pass on by, incidents of waking up in morgue and grinding teeth as you push your cut open flesh together and rise, shifting so it and the pain melts away. But you can't shift now. There's no escape. The sun has come and gone and you didn't die. He won't let you die. The pain just blooms and blooms anew until you realize that despite everything you never really knew pain.

You can see your insides. Your organs glisten like jewels in a monster's corpse. You scream again as he lifts up pieces and turns them over. You gasp and choke and cough and shudder with the pain that brings. It won't end. He won't let it end.

And what a pathetic end it would be. No one caring (no one cared to begin with), no one missing you or noticing you're gone (who would ever?), hated (as before), nothing more than a monster (a stubborn cockroach who wouldn't just disappear, who hurt everyone you loved). But Coco, a voice still hisses, and for the first time that voice is the anchor. You want to die. You want to die. If he would just let you--

Every organ touched is placed back. Pulled out to the point of agony but never the point of killing you. You feel that man's power sift through you. You feel it like hands, little fingers, pulling apart and taking and leaving a mark you won't forget. He explores your body with no heed of your screaming or pleading and at some point, you just can't fight. You lay there limp, only twitching, shuddering, and gagging by then, but no longer pushing back. You're powerless. You're a thing. You're his-- to study and torture and keep alive and taunt. You feel every imprint like a burn.

You don't deserve Coco. You'd rather die now. Giving up your only reason for being here. And so you have no purpose at all in the world but to die. He won't let you. Another sob racks through you. You're glad for the mask. At least this one thing protects you, hides you. He'll never know your face.

But then, like the cruelest joke of all, he turns up his music. Die for music and live for it too. Hysterically, you laugh. Of course, of course, you should've known. You remember now. You're in Hell.

Memory Sharicus - Oh No, not again!

Re: Héctor's Memories

cw: torture, suicidal ideation, vivisection, cannibalism mention hooboy (Prose or action as desired)