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Grumbling, she went through, figuring her fate was already going to be of a negative outcome - primarily due to her lack of psychic abilities. Why not trial with the chances, she thought. Perhaps there may be more to discover. Taking the step of faith, she walked through, counting the steps forwarding, going to jog ahead - mentally counting the steps into the void, calling out Vincent's name once more.
The door had shut closed the moment her other leg left the Cathedral's "bright side". Counting her own steps, she had realized the short distance between the point of origin where the noises came from and the entrance had stretched a lot more. Despite the distance, a dim light revealed itself far away. It got closer and closer as she approached.
What seemed to be endless void had opened into a wide, empty room where two figures struggled in the middle. A wounded Vincent held tight onto a chest wound, bleeding onto the floor while his other iteration - still him, but also not - was holding pressure, not letting the cracks spread further from the original wound. It was the same death Revenant had seen from the figures battling against themselves over the plains.
Caliban's cracked helmet left her see the waves of emotions he felt, holding onto dear life to not die again. An exposed eye to see the dim light hanging above the three, focused on the wound and nothing else.
"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
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Immediately recognising him as the room revealed itself, she dashed over to him, trying to see the wound and himself, seeing how it'll react. The mind is a fickle thing, unstable, and dangerous.
"Oh..." A dejected realisation hit, there wasn't much to be done, but help was offered regardless, kneeling down besides him to help hold in the pressure, even offering to create a makeshift bandage from his clothing.
"Hey... It's me. Do you mind if I help...?" - gazing down at the injured version, she kept his other version in her peripheral. Though she pondered if medical training would even matter at all in a psychic reality. Very unlikely that she would be able to improvise a suture.
Caliban could not take his eyes off the wound. He was much too focused to stave of its effects to notice Raven's presence at first, but she was noticed nonetheless as soon as she offered help. He shook his head, teal smog slowly escaping through his clothing. He was growing weaker and weaker.
Time passed, and the silence eventually broke in a flurry of pained groans from both individuals. Vincent's wound would stop bleeding, and the cracks themselves had "dried up", somehow. Caliban was drained, however. He fell on the ground tired and gasping for air.
Just get out. Just get out.
A long pause ensued as the two gathered their strength to at least face the clandestine mind that invaded what little was left of themselves.
Wish we met ... in better ... circumstances ... Wish we met ... in better ... circumstances ...
"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
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Gazing down at him intently, she spoke out of worry, glaring down at him in that tint of despair,
"There may not be another time, Vincent... I do not know how I was pulled in here, but I fear this is the last time I may get to speak to you, or any version of you, on a cordial level... I'm not even sure how I could leave, but I wish to at least be here for you. I couldn't last time. "
Still adamant on being there for him, taking the chance to at least be there for what could possibly be the final moments.
In a moment of silence, Caliban stood up. His footsteps were heavy, echoing throughout the absence surrounding the three. A void so vast one could never truly leave, yet he did.
You don't need me here anymore. For now.
His voice no longer resonated with Vincent's. It was a lone string of words which lacked any visible empathy. And so he simply left, vanishing into the same smog that emanated from his own body.
I don't ... he paused ... I don't want to hear it, okay? You dumped me. You massacred my body! I don't even want to go back anymore... his words were drowned in sorrow. Shivers ran down his spine as he laid on the bloody ground, covering his face in shame. Why did I have to suffer?! What was the point?! tears ran down his cheeks. This is torture!
"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
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Confused by his outbursts, she tried to provide empathy, care, her palms took over where the other visage last held, trying to keep the corruption from spreading. But his attempts are pushing her away hurt, even if she refused it. Gazing down into his eyes, her voice cracked a little,
"I'm not going to leave you. I'll never abandon you, my dear friend. I'm so sorry that those monsters hurt you..."
Slight anger emerged from recalling the betrayal of the Order, using Cobra as nothing more but a mere puppet.
"Massacred? N-... No. That was the Order. Cobra. The den of snakes...
Why won't you let me help you?"
She continued to press down - trying to resist the spread, becoming almost starry eyed in distress from his rejection. He had always denied help. Even when he may be dying, he always pushed her away. She never knew why, and still cannot comprehend why he has a constant battle to prove himself.
Vincent stared back into her eyes. Distress, fear, anger. Even after so much time she would not understand him. There was nothing to help with. He played dumb though, maybe for once being more open minded, even if it meant to lie. To accept help he could never benefit from.
What did you do to make sure no one else would suffer like I do?! Preventing more pain would've helped a whole lot more! But y-y-you're h-here and dying and hurting and ... his tone cracked. Her pleads to help rang into his head like bells. ... how can you even help me at this point?
To Vincent, it was an honest question. He could not see how a stranded mind could provide aid in a place where nothing made sense, where nothing was truly real. Even she could have been another shape, possessed by The Watcher. He wanted to believe.
Please, get better soon. Then come back for me...promise? his own hands met Raven's, holding them as tight as he could. It would- ... i-it w-would help. stutter made it hard to understand his last words, but he hoped she would understand.
"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
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The glimmer eyes began to form small droplets of pure sorrow, perhaps for the first time in a long time - at least since her beloved Leviathan died. A rare moment of appearing more humane and caring, beneath the depths of the outer layers of paranoia. Her head bowed down, almost hiding it by glaring at the ground, murmuring to him as the small droplets fell.
"I tried to stop you walking down this path - ... It was all too familiar, my dear. I did not want anyone else making the same mistake as I. "
During the moment of questioning, even she could not properly figure out why she was here - despite the answers given by the Watcher. It didn't quite add up. Trying to process it was oddly disorientating.
"I... I truly do not know... I was pulled in here when I was... preparing to see if I could help assess the scenario in Newcastle... I - ... That entity within you - it took me... - How can I help? I don't... possess the answers. Vincent, dear friend, I fear that this is the last time I may see you ever again. "
Her head slowly gazed up to stare at him once more, the streams running and glistening in what little light was provided from the environment. Begrudgingly, she listened to his request - where he once more wished to push her away, stuttering out, her tone dropped furher from the sorrow,
There was truly confliction aroused within. The last time she left him alone, the Order killed him. That lingering regret had always remained in the back of the mind, sheer guilt. Closing her eyes, the tears still ran, squeezing his palm in return. But, it was his request - possibly his final one. It had to be considered out of respect for the one she held deep rooted care for, an individual that shared many similarities to her that no one else in the Sector did. Creasing a pained smile, she took on his word.
Darkness encroached the two. Caliban's presence was nothing more than an afterthought to Raven. He sat on his knees, gazing at the two from beyond the the dying light that now shined only on Raven and Vincent. They could never see time as he did. Stuck in a singular moment without ever realizing it. Holding on for dear life yet unaware that months and even years have passed since the first second they have locked eyes on eachother.
But he knew. And yet neither anger or sorrow flared from his cracked visage. Time went on in the "real" world, with or without him. The same applied to her. And to Vincent in a way. Nothing made sense, because nothing was ever meant to make sense.
You cannot stay here forever. he stated, glancing over the technocrat. You will have to let go.
"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
