( imeeji ) memory registry

[worthathousand]

	DATE	LINK
亜子 Ako	day 75	you lift it anyway
Hero Worshipped	day 111	it has been my dream to live by your example
Alone in the Fields	day 111	the rice stalks sway
The Wyld Hunt pt. 1	day 127	your heretic chosen
The Wyld Hunt, pt. 2	day 127	the fate of those who lose their will to demons
Joined with Shiho	day 199	kimono in Serenity blue
A Fight for Father	day 201	once there was a maiden
The War Yeddim	day 201	the battle is a song
General Ascendant	day 201	white lily of war
Calibration Stories	day 201	born an exception
Shrine Maiden	day 260	you are my child of peace
First Battle	day 260	cries of the injured and dying
Shiho's Illness	day 260	a season of cold and fever
Meet-Cute	day 451	Tits, indeed.
Imagining a Future	day 456	"What do you want to do, after?"
TBD	---	---
TBD	---	---

full registry on trello

Comments

cw: violent death, reference to eye trauma

[worthathousand]

[ This memory seems to pick up not long after where the previous one concluded. ]

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None of you should have truly been surprised that the Anathema had swapped to hunting you. The light of the full moon illuminates your camp when the air aspect shouts a warning—and then there is a bestial roar, and her voice cuts short with a choked cry.

You’re on your feet, Ako in hand, before your conscious mind fully registers the threat. Essence channels through you as you sing out a battlecry that fills your heart with vibrant purpose like a drumbeat—and you can feel it echoing through your companions in turn, each of you instantly fully alert and in tune with one another. Tepet Qīngjiàn will not have lost her life in vain.

Then the Anathema rips aside a tent, and there is no more time for preparation at all.

Perhaps he is already lost to the bloodthirsty madness that possesses him—standing some ten feet tall, wide jaws bloodied from where he has ripped out Qīngjiàn’s throat, an unnatural melding of plains cat and man with a solid circle of silver glowing on his brow: the emblem of the Frenzied. The Hunt is truly on.

----

[ What follows is a scene of brutal battle as Amaranth and the remaining Dragon-Blooded coordinate to take down their massive foe.

The feats of the battle strain—and then break—the margins of possibility: A massive clawed strike from the Anathema is parried with a delicate fan inlaid with black jade; arrows are fired in sequence faster than the eye can follow, then twist around branches to strike with unerring precision; the monk lands a blow with his paired daiklaves that does not cut but instead sends searing burns through the Anathema’s chakras, leaving it howling in pain and fury. As the Dragon-Blooded fight, the air around them begins to glow in the vibrant colors of their spent essence; the Lunar Anathema is haloed in silver.

Amaranth weaves among them all, naginata twirling in impossibly rapid flurries of attacks—at least when she isn’t vaulting around it to launch herself into strikes that land from above. Whenever she whirls past one of her allies, their next blow is sure to strike true. Her own essence begins to glow around her too: a vibrant red aura that becomes red camellia petals that spark from her footsteps.

At first, the wounds they strike on the Anathema close as quickly as they can inflict them, and every bestial blow threatens to crack the ground; it knocks aside the earth aspect’s tetsubo and opens up a row of massive gashes in his shoulder—deep enough to threaten the loss of his arm. But Amaranth’s essence shimmers in the air, and the Hunt moves together as one. Gradually, they are wearing the monster down.

By this point, all of them have pushed themselves to the limits of their abilities: the Dynasts are wreathed in swirling tempests of the elements themselves; the Anathema’s demon spirit rears above it in the silver shape of a dappled wildcat that holds the full moon in its teeth. And now, when Amaranth moves, she is followed by the icon of a massive serpentine dragon shedding petals of red which might be blood or camellias.

Weakened by his wounds, the earth aspect is sent flying by the Anathema’s next blow, leaving the fan-wielding water aspect dangerously open. Amaranth lets out a shout that seems to echo with the cries of an army, though, and the beast hesitates, seemingly held in place by sudden awe or fear. The pause is just long enough: the next moment, three leafy arrows sprout from the Anathema’s left eye, each piercing deeper than the last. ]

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As the monster is defeated, its form recedes back to that of a man—barely more than a youth—with claws like a cat's, arrows still lodged in his eye. You sigh heavily, wipe the blood and sweat from your brow, and remind yourself that this was the better outcome by far than seeing innocent mortals devoured. The dead man’s crimson hair suggests that he hails from somewhere in the southern deserts: he has died so very far from home.

“I will see to it that the body is buried properly,” you say to the Dynasts still standing.

The monk eyes the corpse derisively. “Do as you wish.” Then he meets your eyes, expression a mix of steely pride and something that might be begrudging respect. “But do not forget, heretic prince of the earth: such is the fate of those who lose their will to demons.”

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Notes

• Well that sure was some wuxia/shounen-tier nonsense!
• The weapon Amaranth uses is the same as the one featured at the end of her first memory; however, this time, she appears to be wielding it with incredible ease instead of straining to lift it at all.
• The Lunar fought here does not have moonsilver tattoos and is in fact Casteless, but Amaranth/Tomoe was not aware of this nuance.