Oh, you're all my children. [as if that's an answer.] Pirro. Scaracci, Donnie. Mother. Father. The Blacksnakes. And you, Throné.
[there's a gutpunch - something awful and sick in you, something too shocked to reply. all of those people. pirro, your best friend, dead, his empty eyes staring at you, scaracci and donnie face first and dead on the roof nearby. Mother, with your dagger through her throat. Father, smiling up at you as you slit his throat.
and claude just continues. like nothing is wrong.]
Your mother was a wonderful woman. You should be proud.
... After I planted my seeds, it was time to let the garden grow. And once it did... it came time to prune. But not by my own hands - I let my garden tend itself and weed out what wasn't strong enough to make the cut. I created the Blacksnakes to be that garden.
[god. if not for the shock, the rock sitting in the pit of his stomach at that knowledge...
so it was all just-- a part of this insane plan of his. (if there's anything to be proud of, it didn't come from this freak.) all part of this 'pruning' he talks about as if it isn't just death.
they're all the same. they're all the same, all like this, all high and mighty and acting like they're doing the world some kind of favor when nobody ever asked.]
...yeah, of course not. Why use your own hands for your dirty work when you can make other people get you what you want.
[he says, taking a step down the stairs, towards you.]
Did you enjoy yourself, my daughter? [he croons.]
This fight has continued for generations. You are the fourth of my children to come this far. The other three perished here by my hand.
[you. you. you will kill him. you want to kill him. the moon is so, so bright, so full. you can feel the power of it under your fingertips. the shadows - dark magic. it almost reacts to this place, thriving. you know claude has it. just like you.]
[blood, in cases like this, doesn't mean anything. true father. as if just contributing genetic material is enough to say that. as if any kind of actual father would do this. this guy, more than just about anyone else, needs to get kicked out of the gene pool.
he's not leaving here alive if there's anything to be said about it.]
[-damn. he swears under his breath, briefly, mostly because-- listen, after seeing the bullshit this guy came up with, he'd have been pleased to see him die.
gregor breathes, though, lets it go. separates himself a little, like shedding the memories and experiences of one of his alternate selves. sometimes you're just weirdly fucking prepared for memshares, is the thing. and as soon as he has...
[she's holding her knife in one hand, very, very tightly.
and it takes her a second to tear her gaze away from where claude just was, somewhere in the rift, but she looks at gregor with a wild look in her eyes. a pause.]
Just gonna have to grab it then, I guess, but-- what a position to leave somebody in.
[as he grumbles about that, though... her turn to Experience. they're not getting out of the void without a memory of gregor's (to 1:32:04), one that leaves him faintly disoriented in the wake of it.]
[wheezes yeah okay she's also a little like. wuauhghhahhehghbleh.
the apple is what gets her. when they come out of it, she immediately slaps her hand to her arm, like she's trying to test if it's flesh. he can see the snake tattoo that wraps around that arm - the similarities, of being something that was trained from a young age to be something awful.]
[quiet, there, shaking his head to attempt to clear it; as she checks her arm, as he looks over the tattoo on it, his gaze drops to the tattoo on his own human arm.
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Oh, you're all my children. [as if that's an answer.] Pirro. Scaracci, Donnie. Mother. Father. The Blacksnakes. And you, Throné.
[there's a gutpunch - something awful and sick in you, something too shocked to reply. all of those people. pirro, your best friend, dead, his empty eyes staring at you, scaracci and donnie face first and dead on the roof nearby. Mother, with your dagger through her throat. Father, smiling up at you as you slit his throat.
and claude just continues. like nothing is wrong.]
Your mother was a wonderful woman. You should be proud.
... After I planted my seeds, it was time to let the garden grow. And once it did... it came time to prune. But not by my own hands - I let my garden tend itself and weed out what wasn't strong enough to make the cut. I created the Blacksnakes to be that garden.
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so it was all just-- a part of this insane plan of his. (if there's anything to be proud of, it didn't come from this freak.) all part of this 'pruning' he talks about as if it isn't just death.
they're all the same. they're all the same, all like this, all high and mighty and acting like they're doing the world some kind of favor when nobody ever asked.]
...yeah, of course not. Why use your own hands for your dirty work when you can make other people get you what you want.
[let him at this guy. let him at him.]
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he smiles at you. pleased. yes - you follow his plan just so.]
Throné. You killed Pirro. You killed Mother and Father. And then came here.
[no. NO.]
The fact that you're alive is proof that you're the best of them all. Your journey was all part of the process... my little seed.
[something inside you screams.]
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so it'd all be part of this process. this plan of his. the endpoint of that journey being here, directed by what he intended to happen.
(be it the nightmare or the road-)
so this was all just--]
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[he says, taking a step down the stairs, towards you.]
Did you enjoy yourself, my daughter? [he croons.]
This fight has continued for generations. You are the fourth of my children to come this far. The other three perished here by my hand.
[you. you. you will kill him. you want to kill him. the moon is so, so bright, so full. you can feel the power of it under your fingertips. the shadows - dark magic. it almost reacts to this place, thriving. you know claude has it. just like you.]
Let's see if you can kill your true father.
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he's not leaving here alive if there's anything to be said about it.]
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and then - abruptly, without any sort of fanfare, as you throw yourself towards him -- the memory ends.
you are thrown out of it just as quickly as you were ensnared, and this time? this time, throné is there with him in the void, gasping.]
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gregor breathes, though, lets it go. separates himself a little, like shedding the memories and experiences of one of his alternate selves. sometimes you're just weirdly fucking prepared for memshares, is the thing. and as soon as he has...
his attention turns to throné, concerned.]
Hey-- hey, it's over.
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and it takes her a second to tear her gaze away from where claude just was, somewhere in the rift, but she looks at gregor with a wild look in her eyes. a pause.]
It's not. Not yet.
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[that fucker.]
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[she's barely even present, lost in it.]
I was reaching for my... for my key, and then... [she ended up here, because i'm horrible and i think that's the funniest canon point for her]
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[HEY WHAT THE FUCKKKK FLURRY]
...I knew this company didn't care about ethics, but... Scheiße.
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she exhales slowly.]
... Yes. The timing was poor. [lol]
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[he showed up with a BUG she should've been able to have a key, jeez.]
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[as he grumbles about that, though... her turn to Experience. they're not getting out of the void without a memory of gregor's (to 1:32:04), one that leaves him faintly disoriented in the wake of it.]
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the apple is what gets her. when they come out of it, she immediately slaps her hand to her arm, like she's trying to test if it's flesh. he can see the snake tattoo that wraps around that arm - the similarities, of being something that was trained from a young age to be something awful.]
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[quiet, there, shaking his head to attempt to clear it; as she checks her arm, as he looks over the tattoo on it, his gaze drops to the tattoo on his own human arm.
they both have their marks, too.]
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It makes a lot of sense. [she says, faintly.]
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[the void thinks it's got a sense of humor. he is not entertained, thanks.]