A moan escapes your quivering lungs as you suckle upon your finger. Her blood drips sweetly along your tongue and you forget the finger is your own as you tenderly lap the liquid between your lips. Your teeth feel flesh, but what sense you have left from this feast is enough to stop you from gorging upon yourself. Your claws sink into your face as you stop yourself from laughing. There is no feeling greater than the conquering of a life and no drink more stirring than the earthen nectar of blood. The two of you are alone amongst the hallowed trees, and your breasts rub together as you slide against her chest. There is tenderness between you as you brush your finger along her lips and close her eyes with your kisses. Her cheek feels gentle to the skin of your wrist, and silently she simpers beneath your trembling body. With one leg to her side and another upon her chest, you make love with her breast. Her nipple strokes along you, it brushes against your tender clit, and your body surrenders you a moment of peace amid the bitter shouts around you.
An amber glow awakens the fallen leaves and you embrace the girl for warmth. Hope and ecstasy deludes you for more of her, and though contentment lulls your will to live, you feel the tugging need of survival to your side. There is little doubt that you could escape from the villagers, but there is the matter of the girl, whose flesh would be wasted amongst her kind. The leaves nearby reflect a golden light as voices and footsteps crack against the silence.
[ ] Stay still. [ ] Continue. [ ] Escape by yourself. [ ] Escape with the girl. [ ] Fight the villagers.
Their torches flicker and lash against the darkness. You hold the girl tightly. You will not relinquish her to the pyres. The humans only needed her to consul their petty delusions of death. She is useless to them. She is yours now. You hide as an echo of the villagers, in the shadow of their sounds. Your hands slide across her back and you swallow your drool for composure. Your arms tremble. You brush your tongue across her chest and taste the two of you together. The sensation awakens your imagination. It makes you hope. It makes you fear. You cradle her to your chest. She is light in your arms. Her presence alone will guide you to safety. You run.
The air sings with arrows and you are deaf to their song. You listen to the wind and you pray, but the wind is deaf to you now. You hold the girl tightly. Your heart aches and your shoulder throbs with iron. You dash amongst the shadows of the earth. Your sight begins to blur like a lake rippled moon. The night cools down your frenzy and your legs shudder meekly with your sobs. You collapse face first into the bushes. The air would be silent without your cries. You seek oblivion for your fears and thoughts. You cuddle the girl in your arms and you kiss her. Her blood is bittersweet. She looks content among the dead. You’re together now, forever, by body and by soul. She is dead, but she still lives for you. You lay your face on the ground. These dazed thoughts lull you to dream.
You’re alive somehow. The sun reaches through the leaves and soothes your aching body. The smell of grass and dirt tickles against your nose. You listen to the whispering air, and it tells you of a distant stream. You turn around. A snap cracks through your body and it smashes against your lungs. You gasp and claw at your shoulder. An arrow broke through your skin and is lodged inside your flesh. The pain roots out and entangles your body. You breathe deeply against the chocking nausea. You reach out to the broken shaft. Between pulses of agony, you pull it out with whatever calmness you had left. You thrash feebly on the ground. You gag on your senses. Your hand moves blindly and clasps tightly around the girl’s hand. You feel the softness of her wrist. Your fingers trace the lines of her palm. You feel the stubs of her digits. She has no fingers. You slowly grow still. You turn to the girl and are silent amidst the sunlight. Her limbs are mangled. Her chest is slit open. Only her head is intact. Her face is calm and smeared with blood. It is silent beyond the wind and the movement of water in the distance. Your body reminds you of yourself with pain. Your fingers dig into your shoulder as you sit trembling on the ground. Survival drags your thoughts from your heart. You should clean this wound as soon as possible.
[ ] Bury the body here. [ ] Leave the body here for later. [ ] Take the head and leave the rest.
Agony mocks you as you try to lift her up. The pain in your shoulder crawls through your arm and strangles your muscles feeble. You chuckle and breathe deeply. The morning air sinks slowly into your lungs. It feels odd, almost foreign to your body, as you’ve rarely breathed to the sight of dawn. It’s nice. You’ve risen too much with the haze of noon, when the world only grows colder, where the sun can only fall to the earth. The winds of early autumn nip at your bare flesh, but slowly they’ll grow warmer, and soon the world will be flush with the coming day. There is a need for certainty in this fickle world, and you can only hope that the sun won’t betray you too.
You try to pick her up again and your shoulder berates you with a lashing. It’s impossible. In this there is certainty. You smile as you look at the arrow in your hand. This is what is stopping you. Your shoulder snickers as you study it, and you laugh as well. This is what brings you despair, what causes you to no longer hope. Of all the things that could be certain, that should be certain, that ought to be certain, why is there certainty in this? Why not your enemies? Why not your friends? Why not yourself? You love this girl, do you not? Or are you not sure of this either? Where is your certainty? In what do you place your trust?
You smash the arrow into the girl’s neck. You pull it out with a squelch and smash it down again. You crush your hand against the arrowhead but you are deaf to its screams. You cleave open her neck and hack bits from your hand with a frenzy as fierce as your despair. Your shoulder is silent. Blood and flesh both stale and fresh mix paints upon your chest. You raise her head to your mouth and stop the dripping around her neck. Bits of bone carve into your throat and you cough, and you laugh, as you hug her face against your chest. You can not carry her, but you will. You can not trust others, but you can trust yourself. You love her. You will do what needs to be done, and you will survive. Your body taps your shoulder. You swallow your drool and sigh as you run off to the stream with her head held tightly in your arms.
The stream chills the flesh from your bones and bits of your hand follow the current. The blood dance out in wisps of pink as they fade off into oblivion. The pain and the water numb your body to nothing. You lay floating in the water. It feels odd not being busy. You wonder what Gensokyo’s doing, and what the humans are planning. The wind refuses to tell you though, and you sigh as the sun peaks through the mountains. You cover your eyes, and a cringe claws through your face as you finally examine your hand. The wound shows bone, and you’re already regaining sensation. You wish you hadn’t left your things in the forest, but it wasn’t like you were prepared for what she was planning. You turn your face to the side of the stream and take a drink as you stare quietly at her face. You wonder why she did this as you swallow. You think about the night and it’s only now that you begin to shiver. Your thoughts are interrupted by your stomach. You chuckle uncomfortably. It’s probably best not to think about it. The more important thing is to survive right now.
[ ] Search for some fruit. [ ] Try to catch a fish. [ ] Go back and try to eat her corpse.
Sorry. I wrote a thousand word rant on free will somehow.
>>102999 I'll clarify my earlier statement by saying that most of the choices will be interesting to an extent, considering the nature of our character, but there is likely always going to be at least one choice that will be blatantly odd.
With this in mind, I'll regard your vote as changed, since I enjoy what I have planned for both of the choices.
Also, even though I’ve already planned to have a few nice helpings of 'gorn', if this thread was just going to be a constant stream of corpse rape, I would've posted this in /at/ or something. However, if by ‘gorn’ you mean bloody descriptions of eating or mutilation, then be glad, because I’m pretty sure most of my updates will involve some sort of bloody mess, though you may interpret that as you will.
I’ve done a fair amount of planning, but nothing in the way of routes and ends, since I’m not really keen about emulating a visual novel experience to that degree. I am nowhere near the talent of, say, Ancient Gensokyo Anonymous when it comes to such matters. Also, I wouldn’t really say we have a sanity meter, since I’m pretty sure whether I want to or not, our character is going to be fucking crazy, and that’s honestly fine with me.