listen puppet boy, before you disobey

[generationlost]

There's a knock at the door.

The sound is startling, makes Ranboo suddenly bolt upright from where they'd been lounging on the couch.

Knock-knock.

They pick themselves up from the couch and, as quietly as possible, they creep out of the room, searching frantically for somewhere to hide; his frame is much too long to tuck away into a cabinet or something, but he does, with some internal amusement at the joke, find a closet to tuck himself away into. Thankfully the swords in there aren't taking up too much space.

Knock knock, Dirk! There's a knock at the door!

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[generationlost]

Ranboo quietly shakes their head, slowly, the slightest touch of exhausted, confused motion.

He doesn't know. Well, that isn't true-- somehow, he does know, though if asked they could never explain exactly how they know this, how he understands this and not anything else that's going on.

It's Showfall's fault. They won't let him die.

They take a shaking breath, a fresh round of hot tears spilling down his face.

"The mask..." The words are slurred and weak, but hopefully convey what Ranboo is attempting to explain.

It hurts. Not dying-- not even awakening from death, not really, but the fact that he did awaken, the fact that he's trapped like this, seemingly forever. The fact that he now has to face the consequences for what he's done. The fact that their very last hope, the last potential escape available to him, is no longer an option-- the pain is a weight sinking into his chest, an ache that radiates out from his ribs and wraps around his body out to his fingertips.

[generationlost]

Ranboo grunts softly as the head is suddenly forced into his sight-- at first he closes his eyes, tries weakly to turn his head away, but he can't move fast enough. It's like everything is in slow motion, their head slowly tilting aside.

But. The head is still there. Dirk wants him to see. Why? Their eyes slowly open.

The sight is... horrible, of course. The messy hole in the woman's skull, the sight of her formerly living brain directly in front of their eyes, filling their field of view-- but the worst of it catches their eye after only a moment. Something metallic-- wires, attached to some kind of pads, affixed to the surface of her brain, webbed out to touch every part of it.

Ranboo's eyes screw tightly shut then, a whimper rising from their throat as a fresh wave of tears begin to fall.

"No..."

The agony is like a fist squeezing their ribs, their head weakly shaking, the motion slow and delayed.

"No, no..."

He's the same as she is. He knows he is, though he doesn't know how.