Verdance

D R I E D C R A N B E R R I E S

9/10mmHB#2 dragged Inkwell back through a Rift to his stupid cabin. Hopefully he wouldn’t get himself killed. 9/10 didn’t care about Inkwell, but he didn’t want to see what happened to him as a character when that pen got destroyed. Inkwell shook himself and tore away from 9/10. “What the *screech*?” He looked around. Coming up the path from the valley below was Eden, soaked and clearly angry, hand clutching a mordite scarred claw to her chest. A starhawk sat on her shoulder and blocked out his profanity. Inkwell couldn’t meet her gaze. “Come on inside,” 9/10 said. “We have a bit to talk about.” They did. 9/10 borrowed Shadowlight while Inkwell stared out the window, refusing to respond to anything, and drew a fire and a stack of blankets which they each wrapped themselves in. “So. What in the godmother was that?!”, Eden finally said. Her lip was bleeding, and she was barely not shouting. Barely. “You didn’t tell me he could do this to me! You told me the sword would completely incapacitate him!” Inkwell mumbled something too quiet to hear. “I can’t hear you,” Eden responded incredulously. “His au-his god clearly didn’t want that to happen. I’m sorry.” Eden gaped. “His what?” 9/10mmHB#2 leaned forward. “This world is strange. We three, as well as Night and a few less relevant people, are the hands of a god. His playthings, his sword, his pen. It’s very complicated and for some reason there are things he doesn’t want us to tell you. It’s not like I get a choice. But other cha- people in this world have their own gods. And what our god thought would happen wasn’t allowed by the other. There wasn’t anything to do.” Eden took a deep, unsteady breath. “I do not want to be controlled by some stupid god thing.” 9/10 leaned back. “I said that too. Nothing to do about it now.” Inkwell still wouldn’t face them. “Look, Ink. You did your best. You failed. Happens to all of us. Move on.” Inkwell wouldn’t react. “Would it make you feel better to know that you can officially annoy the an- annoy malevolence or the Witherlord from anywhere in the thread?” Inkwell coughed, trying to cover up a short laugh. He turned, and gave a sad smile. “9/10mmHB#2? I don’t want to hear ANYTHING from you. You ran away. Gave Futility to Fog. And guess what? She just killed Ribbon. So to be honest, I couldn’t give a *screech* about what you think. At least I showed up. Even if I could have done more.” 9/10 groaned. “You literally couldn’t have. You were out of ink.” “But not out of ideas. There was the switch, or the LOAD button.” “The what?” “I brought over an Undertale SAVE and LOAD system and started compounding DT. I was going to locally reset the timeline.” “Like that would work. Your best plan was a storming Undertale reference? If Malevolence’s au- god wouldn’t let Death Omen incapacitate him for a period of time, what makes you think any of them would let you reference Undertale? Seriously, stupid idea.” Eden stared. “Now what? Bacon is dead. Night is- where is Night, anyway?” —— Night was growing weak. Space was not all stars, but more empty space. She had expended much stardust, and her Narration wouldn’t be available to her for a while. And that meant she couldn’t keep 9/10’s little friend contained anymore. He was currently cutting holes through her, approaching a planet called Heaven. Someone had just retreated there from the Mountain of Summoning. They would have to contain Sanguine for the moment. He could be more easily dealt with if the Witherlord wasn’t already an imminent threat. She waved a hand, and gave them one last message before falling asleep. “Gates of Heaven, I have failed you. Prepare yourself for ichor and tears.”

Anyhow that’s crazy back to poetry :l

Appears to keep an eye on the plot what the angst

Eden can’t look away from Bacon. Even as he disappears, leaving one last goofy smile. The starhawk yanks her away, and she can’t see him. Or the place where he had been. Sorrow, Death Omen says. Yes. I bring sorrow. It is to be expected around one such as me. Eden materialized in the middle of the woods. It is night, it is raining, but there is a light in the distance, at the base of a mountain. “It wasn’t you. You didn’t fail. I did.” The sword is silent. No one can hear her scream in anger, clutching the withered claw that is her hand to her chest and struggling towards the light. —— 9/10mmHB#2 is a coward. But now is not the time to dwell on such things. He appears next to Inkwell, who is staring transfixed at a swirling vortex of Withergeists. “Ink, buddy, you’ve got to move,” 9/10 says. “No! I can still stop it! I have the Determination! I ca-“ “You can’t stop it, Inkwell. You’ve failed. Now come on, you’ve got to get out of here.” Inkwell lingers for a moment, then silently allows himself to be guided through a Rift. —— Night stares down in agony. The planet below is slowly being consumed by darkness, and she has expended far too much energy with the starhawks. She feels powerless. A Narrator shouldn’t feel powerless. Her author- it was her authors fault. Placing limits on her. But no. She couldn’t blame the author. An astral tear fell from her face to the planet’s surface, then was swallowed by the dark storm. I’m going to be offline for a while after this, need to take a break from my phone for a few weeks. Awesome writing, everybody, I’m honored I get to take part in this along with so many talented writers. Yall have a great couple of weeks!

Oh my adonalsium I felt some actual feelings there

The words echo in 9/10mmHB#2. Coward, something inside him says. He’s not a coward, is he? He has no obligations other than making right his offense against Fog. He’s not afraid of Malevolence, he just has no other obligations. If the Thread is destroyed, 9/10 wins. No, he says. That’s not right. Do you really want it all burned to the ground? Is it worth it? He growls, then uses the powers that he doesn’t have to hide from the Authors anymore to Rift back to the mountain. It seems he is too late.

Inkwell shook his head, retrieving Shadowlight. Luckily, he hadn’t had to waste that particular trick. Unfortunately, he was out of usable ideas. “Okay, okay, Fog. Eden, get out of there. You’re going to get killed.” —— “Speak for yourself!”, Eden said. Any other blow she landed was another future where Malevolence failed, another moment where he was in another world. She couldn’t- Malevolence landed a hit on her hand. She dropped Death Omen, and it retracted to a necklace. Foolish, foolish. Don’t try and change the future, it whispered to her. Smoke rose from her left hand, flesh withering, skin blackening. I think not, Death Omen said, and she could feel a surge of power running down the arm. The corruption stopped, but didn’t heal. Eden stared at the hand, then scrambled away, tongue bleeding as she tried not to scream. —— Inkwell stared in horror. He didn’t have time to process. He would be feeling guilty for that for a long time. “Night, I can’t do anything else. Please, protect her.” A starhawk appeared, yanking Eden away from the fray.

“Oh, I really don’t care. My author just said he needs a minimum of one post’s delay for Eden to sneak up on you.” And she did, trying to stab Malevolence in the neck but missing, Death Omen’s blade barely striking him in the shoulder, sending him into a vision.

Eden stared. Two Plotblades. Couldn’t be better. Inkwell motioned at her. He was unarmed, what was he doing? —— Time to see if the plan worked. Inkwell waited until Malevolence rebuffed Egis and Fog’s attacks, then continued his approach. He could still use the pen’s switch… no. That wouldn’t be enough. He’d already come this far. Time to finish this. “You need a sacrifice,” he told Malevolence. “If I’m honest, I thought the ocean was enough to stop you. Rip away the Pages, or Darkseeker. But my author seems to have abandoned me. So I’d rather die than be a withergeist under your control.” He tossed Shadowlight aside. “You want a sacrifice? Here he is.” slight main character syndrome here if I’m being honest, but imma take a break from the thread for a few weeks after this entire scene is done so I’m going all out a bit early

Ofc ofc Nothing more important

For glass eyes Inkwell drops to the ground, waters receding. He coughs, several times, getting to his feet. It seems he just can’t get ink out of his hair. “We’re… just getting started,” he chokes out. Weaponless, he advances. “Besides… you need a storming bath.” He coughs, spitting out a mouthful of ink, then breaks off a piece of metal from the bracelet and swallows it, burning Leraselectrum and flaring his electrum metalmind.

Inkwell smiled. This couldn’t be going any better. He waits to see if Malevolence will claim the new Plotblade, and cautiously begins filling the metalmind attached to the bracelet on his arm. —— Death Omen vibrates in Eden’s grasp. “I don’t really need this right now,” she whispers. A melody begins to play. Something she recognizes. She whispers along as the black sea swallows them whole. —— Inkwell, has drawn a piano and is playing a highly repetitive melody. The rain does not stop. Instead, it intensifies. Black rain falling from the sky at a rate unprecedented by the wildest imaginations of human history. In seconds, the ocean has risen to the peak. In the blink of an eye, the pen is completely empty, but everything is under water. Or rather, submerged in ink under Inkwell’s control. The current smashes Malevolence to the seabed. Inkwell floats in a bubble, Eden and several others occupying similar places. But he can’t keep this up for long, and he only has a few more tricks.

Rebus appears. Inkwell immediately stops filling his metalmind in order to have the courage to stay put. “Enemy of my enemy is my friend?” He says. “Or are we going to do the whole battle thing again?” “Whozat,” Eden asks. “An old friend. Nearly killed me. Feel free to stab him unless he decides to act in his own self preservation and not fight me.”, Inkwell says. He waves his hand, pressing an invisible button.

“Oh.” He paused. “You’ve known too many Spaniards.” —— Eden smacks him. “Shut up.” She yanks the chain off her neck and it morphs into a sword. That’s… not my style, she thinks. Can you do a- of course, the sword responds. It shifts into a medium length gold halberd with a gilded pole and smoke quartz point and axe head.

Inkwell watched Malevolence climb higher and higher. He eyed the starhawk on his shoulder. “Mind taking me up to the summit?” He asked it. It chirped. Odd. Normally they preferred to screech. “Thanks. I owe you.” It screeched this time, and suddenly they appeared at the peak. Inkwell began to feel very, very uncomfortable. That was a good sign. He looked down at Malevolence. “Need some help? I could give you a rope or something!” grass successfully touched

Inkwell watched in disbelief as 9/10 just- gave away like the best weapon either of them had owned, then disappeared without a word. Why did he think he could rely on him? imma go touch grass yall have fun :3

He could feel Narration trying to bend reality around him, but while Annoyance suddenly grew uncomfortably heavy around his neck, he actually seemed to be move quicker. “Mhm, well that’s great. In that case-“ he removed a piece of paper from his back pocket, wrapped it around the daggers handle, cut a rift emerging behind her and flung Futility away through it. “You can have this. I won’t be needing it any longer.” He turned around and leaped into thin air, and despite not having the sword, managed to create a rift anyway. 9/10 would not participate in this fight.

He huffed as he ran up the slope, transforming Annoyance back into a necklace. “Apologizing. Trying to help. I know. You know. The mantle. Controls withergeists-“ he says. Physical exertion is still so storming hard!

9/10mmHB#2 would not be dissuaded. As they keep talking, as if they were friends and Malevolence wouldn’t just force Fog to kill him soon, he tried something. The mordite was touching his mind, but it didn’t have its claws in him yet. So he sunk his teeth into it, figuratively. Forcing the mordite ink blade (about 30% mordite, 68% ink, 2% Investiture at this point) into a different form. It shifted, not quite bending to his will. The figurative claws scraped the figurative skin of his literal mind, but the blade shortened, condensing into a dagger about the same shape as Inconsistency, much easier to use, if not missing some reach. Fog had somehow teleported him away, into open space. Not a problem, Inkwell could play with his stupid pen but 9/10 knew how to redirect force. He caught himself with a rift, one that shot him upwards through a stormy yellow sky, then as he reached he top of his arc, cut again and landed on his feet a quarter of the way up the mountain, not far from Fog and Malevolence. Starhawks below screeched indignantly.

9/10mmHB#2, itching for a fight and still very Thread-aware, hisses. “Storm this. I’m not waiting for backup any longer.” He unclasps Inconsistency (still in denial that the dagger is named Annoyance,) cuts a rift that emerges next to Fog, and whips the necklace around, forming it into a dagger, but doesn’t enter. “Sorry, Fog. It wasn’t a great idea to try and kill you first I met you. Nevertheless-“ He holds the rift open with Inconsistency and stabs Futility into Fog’s form. It begins drinking in the mordite, greedily, and 9/10 can feel the sword growing stronger. Trying to feed on more than just Fog’s mordite. He grits his teeth and exerts his will against it. Not my soul. Not her soul. The mordite.

So. I have been delving the depths of the Thread for ancient lore. There’s a first hand record of what happened, I just can’t find it. Are you sure it was around page 1000? What the actual adonalsium is this on page 901.