Chapter Six: Point Insertion I

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Delusion,

Delusion of the soul,

Real of the mind,

shattered seams,

fractured sight

Inevitability,

pillars of the fortress crumbling,

receding.

Once more I became.

...

Burst of ichor, one came two as the souls in the room rested on three; Asriel's body jolted 'This'll do.' Words mouthed as Tal fell back in surprise. In what seemed more mangled corpse than anything alive, only the softest ups and downs of the youth's chest indicated otherwise.

"Do unto them,

I.

Accept"

As if puppeteered by devils, the body glowed succumbing to every crevice the dark began to shift as the layering film of aura flickered popping bones; split tendons flayed skin reset, redrawn spilled blood retracted in a breath, time itself swayed to whims of unknown power. From the wall, bucket of discards even boots as Tal went white. Pounding off, around the chamber an eerie symphony beckoning the wrenched display. In the lullaby of healing bones and depend cut's energy strained- Of what little energy there was it quickly faded, rhythmic hums invaded his senses, futile to it's embrace swathed over. Willing the lying splatter back.

"Ceron."

The vessel willed, I clutched from the eternal destitute of that abyssal cage. Peeling of my ethereal form, peeling from the shackles that bound me. On the brink a body teetered, its owner plight just enough. Possession was a fickle beast, none too upright to just toss you overboard without notice. But a willing, vague contract looser than a back alley whore? I was certain. Failure was just death, but to hell if I'd let it end here.

The constant pounding continued as this form reshaped untwisted, before anything else I exhaled in the final moments and last pop of bone. A surge of energy left as the sound grew- Then my ethereal sight disappeared, darkness edged as the layering film vanished till nothingness, seeped into the vessel.

The abrupt calm took all, the ongoing hymn skyrocketed I once more witnessed a surrounding void, the unease not unwarranted at the familiar. Yet I remained, unresisting as I came to realize the subtleties and warmth I was within. Not bound. Settling on a sensation I had forgotten, feeling of weight foreign a detriment of the formless body I grew unconsciously accustom forced or not; this pressure bore like molasses, undoubtedly the body. I recalled the vessel's form the void shifted to a blur, shades of moving black.

All the while the thumping didn't cease, focusing on the sound I realized came not from illusion, it was the body's heartbeat. No matter how I willed, the body laid slack.. Then it struck a twitch of sensation repaving my mind's pathways to the limbs and this body, coldness touched my face as a soaring pain ran down backside. I inwardly chastised, somewhat pity was quickly discarded with a scoff. Barely able to control let alone move a finger.

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Straining senses flared as pounding increased. An outside source, I felt my body jerk, another set of breathing not of my own. It stood to reason this body wasn't courting death by its own volition, I doubt what I heard was from some altruist either. I have to move, whoever it was saw my possession. Like the banging of a door, in the process my energy must've wedged it shut instinctively.

But a little Inconvenience. Tch.

Focusing to my upmost I envisioned my bodily processes, in line with my pumping heart and circulation to my hands and feet. My hand twitched once more, this brain's pathways and my subconscious were conflicted still I tried again- And again, till there was more than a simple twitch feeling the tingles of my fingers and the seeping wet drench my side. Like a highway down to the bone I perceived my anatomy, till the simple twitch was but me making a fist. And like that it clicked.

...

The abyss left as Ceron understood to be his own closed eyelids, senses barraged as surroundings came all at once.

Bright yet still somehow dark and dank, the chamber Ceron hadn't payed much attention came in sight. A torture room, namely occupants torturer and victim seeing the sludge of a man quiver at a tilt of his head Ceron wondered who exactly played which role. Well he knew exactly, the restraints buckled as Ceron tore them a torrent of energy still surging through his veins.

Inaudible words moved as Ceron reached out, grasping the air like reins of a horse straddling it to his will.

'No heed, none answer my call' The remnant energy flared. Banging the door went frantic, the sack of sludge wobbled about 'I'm the one uncomfortable to look at?' Ceron found himself towering over the man, his hand at the back of Tal's neck. The other reaching toward the workbench and numerous cutlery.

"Where is this place, where is Sar--' The door shifted trying to open from the other side, "Everything alright in there?" Clamoring of voices, two men maybe more.

Metal warped back, untwisted the door handle opened. "Too loud?" Tal's face peaked just at the door's edge.

"Settle it soon freak." Utter disdain flowed past the door, that was till blood leaked out. Tal moved into view sporting a wide grin, his head at least. Puppeteered kin to a sock puppet, residuals of flesh and spinal cord idly dangling as Ceron swung the head up and down grabbing its jaw. "This diet works wonders!" Shock and disbelief but no applauds, tough crowd.

The head splattered amongst their feet, striking the larger man from justified shock. Unable to restrain himself Ceron huffed, outstretched a hand halting the man's approach. Disheveled attire, putrid smell of sweat and muck at every inch a ripped cloak and black trousers with worn boots. Ceron rubbed his hair with whatever drudge and blood that remained overlooking the several holes in his undershirt. Rising pain throbbed as Ceron recalled, trying to pry into depths of the vessel, at no avail. Resistance bore the notion a wall was meant to be broken. Nothing was beyond, out of reach.

No cross or hypocritical sense of nature endowed these men. Much Ceron tried to deny himself they were under no employ of dear brother. The surge of pain peaked as Ceron absently found himself tracing the scar on his chest, insertion of that wretched seal which only the hilt remains. 'The instrument of my abyss runic carvings, sacrificial magic used by the foolish and misguided..' However, despite circumstance it would be a lie if Ceron hadn't felt a tad bit euphoric,

Ceron mumbled a laugh. Further fueling confusion toward his temporary guests.