carracosta | i came to win

i came to win

[remembering exactly how she had winded up in this particular situation is proving to be... somewhat difficult. Ichirin would probably be able to recount the events more accurately, but she first has to find Ichirin. even Unzan wasn't able to protect them when those brutish underground youkai started to go wild and they wound up separated.

the last thing Murasa remembers hearing is a booming laugh as a huge, meaty hand pushed her head into the pool of blood. she had screamed and struggled, of course, but it all happened too quickly for her to be able to fight back properly. it flooded down her throat and nose, her ears, eyes, soaking into the very pores of her skin, boiling and burning hot enough to kill a human. was drowning in the sea as bad as this...? after a while she had simply stopped fighting back, too overwhelmed by the shock to even get up on her own when the youkai finally left.

so there she is- a girl floating facedown in a pool of thick, bubbling blood.

just chillin.]

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[ Two thousand, two hundred long years and being on shinigami and kishin's hit lists have led to Seiga developing a trick or two through navigating through the various underworldly prisons and torture chambers. It's become quite the pleasant stroll for her for one as unfazed as her, for one who does so enjoy playing the audience to seeing people (especially Buddhists) being tortured. The oni of Hell are so capable when it comes to that.

But today she's delved deeper into the pits of Former Hell, reserved for a special group of youkai she has known about but never really interacted with. Much, anyway. ] Ara... did I finally find this place?

[ Just. Appearing through one of the walls, perching herself on a ledge. ] One ship wrecking youkai drowning in a pool of blood. Mm, I think this is it~

[that's a voice. yep, that's definitely a woman's voice she just heard even though her ears are all clogged up. is the girl dead? yes... technically, but. a long, painful moment of stillness passes before she slowly rolls over on her back, her features all obscured by dripping red. so she's at least conscious, then.

she violently coughs and retches, the blood she had swallowed spilling back into the pool. it'll be a while before she can take a proper breath of air again. ugh, gross.

that wasn't a voice she recognizes, though. if it's another youkai she had better not push Murasa back down into the pool-]

[ How. Disgusting.

Seiga purses her lips, tapping her chin with the hair pin thoughtfully for a moment before leaning back, crossing one leg over the other. ] Take your time, dear.

[ She's playing the good guy for now. Just wait. ] After all, the multitude of Buddhist hells are not known for their leniency towards their captives. Barbarity, however...

[ Or not. Holy passive-aggressive Taoist, here. ]

Who- [blarrgghhhhglhglh there's more of that nasty retching.

hey Segg could u repeat that last part Murasa couldn't quite catch it. she grasps the edge of the pool, slowly pulling herself onto dry land and still vomiting and coughing. and... it's all out. deep breaths. shuddery breaths. hollow breaths. they're the breaths of a ghost who doesn't need to breathe, but does it out of comfort.

wiping at her bloody face with bloody hands doesn't really do much, but it clears her vision somewhat. Murasa looks up at Seiga, still on her hands and knees, blearily squinting.

... that is definitely not Ichirin. nope. but she doesn't look like one of those youkai, either- too pretty and poised to be part of their group.]

Seiga Kaku.

[ And only now does she float down, not caring to shift one of her skirts to the side for all the blood that's sprayed.... because it won't even touch her. She phases through the drops, and they simply splatter the ground below her feet. Not getting her hands dirty has never been so easy.

Slowly, she kneels before her and pulls out a handkerchief ~~from between her breasts~~, reaching out to caress her cheek. ] So much blood doesn't do well on a pale face...

[Murasa doesn't even notice the blood passing through Seiga, gazing up at her face rather than her feet with a sort of glassy look in her eyes. for a moment she's reminded of another woman who had descended to her and reached out like that, and Murasa slightly leans into Seiga's touch without even thinking twice about it. it had been Hell down here. well, literally, yes, but almost every day had been a trial of endurance. being forced into the pool of boiling blood had been the worst by far.

whether or not this woman is an enemy doesn't matter for the moment. Murasa's too exhausted to care.]

... The sun doesn't reach down here.

[well, duh.]

[ What an astute observation.

^ Is what Seiga wants to say. But she's going to be nice, letting Murasa lean into her touch. ] Be that as it may, please-- allow me.... [ Going to just stop here to wipe some of that blood away. ]

Ah, but, speaking of the sun-- wouldn't you like to see it again? [ Just "casual" conversation, sure, but the topic is meant to imprint upon her, just like her actions. ] It would certainly brighten up this drab, old place. Torches make this blood appear like mucus; the sun would have it shine like rubies, I think...

[she's not sure how many years it had been so far. ten? twenty? five hundred? even Ichirin had a hard time keeping track when there really was no concrete way to distinguish day from night. Murasa softly exhales, her body still steaming from being submerged in the boiling blood for so long.]

Yeah... yeah, I'd like to.

[if her heart were still working it would skip a beat. this woman- Seiga Kaku, wherever she had come from- maybe she's here to help them get out? is this the exit they've been searching and waiting for all along? Murasa doesn't want to raise her hopes, but.]

Can you get us out of here?

Perhaps...

It shouldn't be that hard. [ The word is drawn out as she tucks away the handkerchief. She's done a lot more in her time. Like facilitating bonafide resurrections. ] Maa, did you know that between the time you came here and now, Hell was relocated...?

[ That's right. This is Old Hell, now. It would make things a lot more simple if she wanted to escape. But Seiga continues lightly, ] It does make me wonder why you're here at all; after all, if you truly had done something devious, wouldn't you have been brought along to the New Hell? These Oni are simply keeping you for your own entertainment, and none of the shinigami or enma care what happen to their old prisoners....

[ And who knows if that's true or not. But what is true that if this was Hell proper, there'd be no imagination of escape, save for only to torture the inhabitants with the idea of it. ]

What...?

[relocated? nobody ever said anything about relocation. shit, she really should find Ichirin and Unzan now. Murasa pushes herself up, attempting to stand on trembling, burned legs.]

That's- no. We were sealed, not as prisoners, but... [... though it's technically true, isn't it? their crime, according to those humans, was association with Byakuren Hijiri.]

But as prisoners to be put in a Hell, you should serve...ah, "justice". [ A wave of her hand. ] Yet, this is no Hell.

Nor are you serving any term given by a higher order. [ By, say, a god. It's those humans. Those damn humans. Always arrogant.

She leans forward, going to wrap a sympathetic arm around her. ] ....Dear child, you didn't deserve this at all. [ Her voice softens, expressing regret on her behalf. ] All of this--... all of this was meaningless.

[it's warm.

not warm from the blood (that's a level not even close to warm) but the arm around her- it's different from how Ichirin would hold her after each time the Oni tortured them, but somehow it's... comforting? maybe that's the feeling engulfing her.]

It was.

[Byakuren's punishment was even more meaningless. Murasa tenses, shivering for reasons she can't quite put her finger on.]

Can you- can you really bring us back to the surface...?

[ Instead of outright answering the question, she asks, ] What would you give, Minamitsu Murasa, to free yourself of this place....?

[ She draws away, but only slightly enough to look her in the eyes. ] What would you give for others to be free from here?

[she hesitates, but not because of the question.]

How do you know my name?

[too few people know her real name. Murasa takes a small step back.]

You're rather notorious up above... Perhaps for all the wrong reasons.

They still remember me?

[it's been so long. she thought her name would've been overshadowed by the likes of Byakuren over the years. Murasa's just one of many youkai who were loyal to her, after all.

something that might be a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. ah, ego.]

That's fine. I was afraid they'd forget who I am.

....They really wouldn't. [ The corner of her smile twitches ever so slightly. Bah, youkai. ] Not with your apparent reputation.

But the question is if you would like that notoriety to continue or to not? Ask yourself if you would return to the surface to correct their view or to reaffirm them.

[the selfish part of her wants to return to that kind of existence badly enough that she bites her lip to stop herself from blurting out an answer. that's not right, though. she doesn't want to return to the surface for herself; she has other people to fight for now.]

I want to return to the surface with Ichirin. I can't leave her here alone.

Two people...?

[ Seiga seems to ponder this, a hand going to her own cheek and patting it. ] Mm, it can be done, it can be done, I believe...

[ but now she's back to looking at Murasa, her eyes glinting a curious blue. ] But my other question remains--..... what would you give, to have this freedom?

[three people technically because Unzan but w/e w/e!!]

I don't have any possessions worth our freedom... [she looks away, eyes slightly narrowing.] What sort of payment are you expecting?

Oh, I deal with many things. Not all of them material, per se. [ Seiga doesn't elaborate, not without specifically being asked. ] However, we could simple do an I-owe-you.

Although either way, I would need something of you to get you out of here-- a piece of your nail or strand of hair, for example.

[this is obviously a terrible idea.

but escape is looking more and more tempting with each second that passes, especially after drowning in that pool of blood.]

... Alright. I owe you. [Murasa plucks a strand of hair from her head, red from the blood, and holds it out for Seiga to take.]

We also have a ship. Think you can get that out too?

[ Those words are music of her ears. Seiga takes the strand of hair, and in another hand conjures up a small vile to place it in. She looks at it through the small magnification the curved surface brings, musing over her other question. ] A ship...?

That should be a lot easier-- ah, unless the ship is also sentient.

[she shakes her head. nope, it's just a regular boring ship that flies and stuff.]

How soon can you get us out?

A couple weeks. I'll have to make some preparations, speak to some oni.... but it can be done smoothly. [ Tucking that vile of hair away. ]

Although if it's for someone so very adorable like you, I'll cut that time down to three days.

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