deadbydawn | ryslig inbox

Hey Ash quick proposal.

I'll let you use my body to get as wasted as possible if you possess me and eat a soul while inside me

[He refuses to beat around the bush.]

[There's basically no delay before a response pops up on the screen.]

oh hell yeah i can do that

just tell me when and where

No questions, no hesitation, just down to suck out souls. Now that's what I like about you.

I'm in the Amusement Mile apartment complex, fourth floor. I'd rather do this sooner rather than later.

two birds with one stone and all that

im on my way ;)

[That's the last message that Ash sends before he sets out towards Amusement Mile. He's never set foot here before, but...well, there's a first time for everything, right? He's vaguely unsettled by the mascots, but it's easy enough for him to avoid them and keep to the shadows.

Eventually, he manages to make his way to Phil's apartment. He doesn't even knock--he just pokes his head through the door, phasing through the wood. His head looks detached from his body like this.]

Hey, what's shakin', man?

[Unlike Ash's place, Phil's apartment is pretty well put together. It was already furnished, but it's clear that Phil cares a lot about visitors judging his home.

Phil himself? He looks a bit like a train wreck, seeming anemic and like he hasn't gotten much sleep in the past few weeks. Despite that, he gives Ash a lopsided grin when he pops in.]

Feel like shit, but hopefully this works out. Not to bore you with the details, but I really need to satisfy this hunger before I die from it.

[Or... before he snaps and kills someone, but he doesn't say that out loud.]

Then let's get you some fucking food, already.

[Ash phases through the rest of the door, his form "sticking" to the surface before breaking away. He gives Phil's apartment a glance over. A twinge of envy colors his thoughts--his house isn't as nice as this. Lights, heat, furniture that isn't broken...all of these things seem so normal. Things that he doesn't have.

Most of that is Ash's own fault, of course, but he tries to ignore that. He doesn't need any of this.

But God dammit, it would be really nice to have it. He lets out a huff, rolling up his sleeves.]

Alright. I've never tried to eat someone's soul in another person's body, but...well, uh, guess there's a first time for everything. [A pause.] You ready for me to be inside you again?

[He winks.]

Buddy, I've been waiting for this for weeks

[He literally possessed Phil three weeks ago.

Phil stands in place, clearly not apprehensive whatsoever about Ash possessing him again. He doesn't care if he's going to kill someone, he just doesn't want to worry about losing himself again. And, well, being possessed again by Ash was a very reasonable tradeoff in his eyes.]

[Two weeks, if you think about their encounter at the bar when Phil found out he had water powers. Ash grins.]

Brace yourself.

[That's all the warning that Phil is going to get before Ash glides towards him and quite literally passes through him. A slightly strange, but not unpleasant static-y sensation can be felt wherever Ash makes contact with Phil's body. The more Ash does this, the better he gets--especially when dealing with a familiar body.

As soon as he adjusts himself to Phil's body, he's hit by an overwhelming feeling of hunger. A deep, gnawing feeling in his chest, all too familiar to him. Rarely does he ever let it get this bad. He staggers a little, trying to remain focused on possessing Phil.]

Jesus, you weren't fucking kidding--this shit's fucking bad.

[But at least there's two people to share this burden, instead of just one. Ash flexes his hands, trying to figure out what to do next.]

So, you know any assholes who're in need of gettin' their soul munched?

[By this time, Phil has started to become comfortable with Ash possessing him, and doesn't even flinch as he enters his body.

He tries to support himself from the stumbling, but remembers that Ash is still the one in control.]

Ugh, not off the top of my head I guess we can see if there's any shitty security guards or Karens in the Department Store that we could eat

[Ash clasps his hands together--the feeling of two very physical, flesh-and-bone hands touching each other is still a very weird sensation--and nods.]

Let's head out, then. And technically, we're not killin' anybody--just...y'know, stealing their souls.

[That's what he tells himself, at least, to make him not think about the consequences of his actions. It's what he thinks to himself to not dwell on the fact that these people's last moments were filled with terror and fear before faced with nothing. No emotions or thoughts--just bliss.

He grimaces a little and walks towards the door.]

Hope your neighbors don't mind. I didn't even know there were apartments out here. [A pause.] Or the fact that we now have an amusement park.

Okay fine it's not murder.

[Phil meanwhile is just excited to be fed. Murder be damned he doesn't want to maul the people he actually cares about until they die. He manages to control his left arm just enough to wave off Ash's concerns.]

Eh, not a lot of people live here right now. I'm only living here because the guy running the place lets me stay here for free since I run the radio station here. It only popped in earlier this month too.

[They exit the building and Phil points to the department store across the street.]

So should we try to be covert about this or just attack the first person we find who's yelling at a minimum wage teenager?

Huh. And he doesn't even charge ya for utilities?

[Why is this the first that Ash has ever heard of this? He's not particularly inclined to seek out help regarding housing or the like. No, he's far too stubborn to even admit that maybe he would be better off in a nice house with functional furniture and lights, even if he can't use them all the time.

He shakes his head, trying to focus on Phil's question.]

Um, usually I grab the first guy who I think looks--or acts--like a dickhead. Like, look--

[He points towards a random man going about his day, currently crouching over a crescent-press that flattens out coins and prints a unique design on them. He seems to be struggling with the crank.

In a low voice, Ash says--]

People who collect novelty coins are weirdos that have nothing better to do than hole up in their rooms and label all their weird money. We're probably making his family life better by eatin' his soul.

Nope. I just go to the broadcasting tower every morning and evening and I get free housing! It's a sweet deal and beats living in one of the shitty apartments in Bavan that costs most of my paycheck.

[He thinks back to Ash's absolutely terrible place and feels... pity? Guilt? Mild disgust? Whatever it is it makes him speak up again.]

There's not a lot of people living there right now, honestly. I think you can convince the guy running this place to get you a place to stay.

[If Phil had any morals at all, he would question why someone who likes penny presses would be someone worthy of having their soul sucked out. But this is Phil so he nods in agreement, not even questioning this line of thinking.

In a similarly low voice-]

Right, it's obvious that he has nothing good going on in his life anyway. So, ready to work your magic?

Hell, yeah. Watch and learn.

[Not that Phil has any other choice but to watch. With a grin, Ash strolls up to the individual in question. He raises a hand to tap on his shoulder.]

'Scuse me, lemme help you with that coin press.

[The man stops cranking the machine, turning to face what he thinks is a half-transformed goblin. Perched on the bridge of his nose are a pair of small glasses. Ash can see him tense, then relax a bit. Coming face-to-face with a monster such as this while alone on the boardwalk surely doesn't pose as great a threat as, say, a menacing manticore or demon. He offers a tentative, harmless grin.

The man doesn't notice the tendrils until it's too late. Shadowy, static-filled appendages reach out from Phil's back, snagging the man's limbs and pinning them in place. A ghostly hand separates from Phil's own physical form, fingers elongated into needle-like claws.

Pure panic floods the man's face as he realizes what's happening. Ash hardly registers the expression as he allows his instincts to guide him. He's done this a dozen times before. What makes this any different?

His hand phases straight through the man's chest, feeling about for the man's soul. Immediately, Ash feels an icy, almost burning sensation mirrored in his own chest, causing him to let out a startled gasp. His claws close around something warm, something pulsating, and he feels as though his very heart--the heart he doesn't even have anymore--is being squeezed to bursting by some unseen force.

I'm going to die here. I'm going to die here, and there's nothing I did to stop this.

The terror swallows him whole. His brain screams at him to stop, to let go. But the whisper of the Fog in his ears urge him onward, to finish the job. Almost mechanically, Ash pulls the man's soul from his rib cage. Every phantom neuron in his body screams in a wretched chorus of agony as he feels something sinuous get torn from his chest. He stares at the bright, glowing wisp in the palm of his hand, flickering like a flame in the wind. The man himself collapses in a heap, his mouth agape and his eyes rolling back into his skull.

His vision swims. Arms shaking, Ash quickly lifts the wisp to his mouth and shoves it down his throat. The fear has stopped pouring into his brain, replaced by a dull feeling of apathy. Any relief given by the consumption is offset by the lingering knowledge of what was just felt. Ash quite literally falls out of Phil's body, collapsing in a misshapen mess. The chromatic aberration and scan lines typically seen on his body have intensified, causing more aggressive deformations to his silhouette and making him seem little more than a vaguely man-shaped shadow on the ground next to his victim. The edges of his form tremble and jump like a corrupted VHS tape.

A terrified sob can be heard through the static.]

Edited 2021-11-27 04:56 (UTC)

[Phil watches. Idly at first, he didn't want to grow any sort of attachment to this man who was going to have his soul sucked out of him. Even if he had any apprehension about this, he knew it was better that he "die" than going on a murder spree where he kills maybe dozens of people, never satisfied.

But when Ash reaches into the man's chest, Phil is suddenly gripped with fear and anxiety that he hasn't felt in a long time. He hadn't feared death for a long time, and hadn't expected to feel it here.

Now? He was hit with a barrage of scared last thoughts, Crying out over an unfulfilled life, the what ifs that will never happen, the loved ones who will never see him again. He feels like he knows nothing and everything about this man. Phil was so overwhelmed with fear and anxiety that he can barely think.

He doesn't regain control. He can't, his only thought is begging him not to wimp out, he can't have other people feeling like this thanks to him. It was better to have one person hurt than countless others.

When Ash collapses out of his body, he is in such shock that he falls to the ground himself. He gasps for air, unsure if he was even holding in a breath. His heart was racing and like his chest was going to explode. A part of him wants to just run but his whole body just felt so weak that he could barely move from the spot he was laying.

Faintly, he realizes that he was feeling less horrifically starved than he was a few moments ago, but he was too distressed to even celebrate this fact.

He looks up and stares at the stranger, then at Ash. He hears him sobbing and feels like he should do something. There is a minute while Phil tries and fails to properly catch his breath, before the true horror of the situation sets in.]

I... I didn't know this whole shit was so... I thought... I thought when you ate people... or took their souls... that it wouldn't be that... that... oh my god.

[This is his first time feeding. He had no idea what Elias's punishment to him actually was beyond him gaining hunger while not having his spell. In his mind, this was apparently normal.]

[Ash hardly registers that Phil is speaking--and if he does hear him, Ash doesn't show it. He somehow feels overstimulated and numbed all at once. His shoulders shake as he tries to stifle his cries. It takes almost a full minute for him to force words out of his mouth, and when he does, his tone is uncharacteristically quiet.]

That's-- [His voice cracks as he speaks.] That's never happened before.

[He's been eating people's souls for almost a year now. Twelve months, at least twelve victims. He's lost count at this point--why should he care about the people that he's snatched souls from? He didn't--he wouldn't allow himself to think too hard about what would happen to these people, what their families and friends would now have to deal with. He couldn't dwell on it, lest he realize--

Let he realize he's become no better than the deadites that tormented and slaughtered his own friends mercilessly. They weren't dead, per se, but did that matter? They were gone, their souls having been dragged to hell, never to see the light of day again.]

Oh, God.

[Another sob escapes his throat as he buries his face in his hand. A wave of nausea and pure disgust washes over him. If he still had a stomach, he'd probably just throw up. Instead, he's left with a building pressure in his chest and the taste of bile in his mouth with no way to relieve it. His eyes flit upwards towards the soulless corpse, and as much as he tries to tear his gaze away, he can't. He watches the body's chest rise and fall with shallow breath, but that dead-eyed gaze and limp posture meant he wouldn't ever be getting up again. Never be able to laugh with his family again, never be able to struggle with a penny press again, never be able to do anything that makes life worth living.

And Ash was responsible for this.

No. It wasn't him. He wouldn't be doing this if not for the Fog forcing him into this wretched form and inducing this hunger. A torrent of anger suddenly bubbles to the surface as Ash lets out a raw, unfiltered scream:]

Fuck! Fuck this, fuck everything, I fucking hate this place!

[He wants to scream. Scream like Ash is. He wants to shout in anguish about how terrible this place is for the first time since he's arrived here.

But the moment the thought crosses his mind, he holds head in horror. He can't be horrified by this place. As terrible as it is, he didn't want to prefer going home over staying here. He can't want to go home. Even with all the horrors, he can't want to stay in a never ending hell over this.

Phil lets out a muted sob and looks back to the man they just killed.]

God, I... I didn't want to starve to death or lose control but...

[What fucking right did he have to say that he deserved to live more than this stranger, this man who had a life of his own. Why didn't he just ask Mukuro to kill him when he was starting to feel himself lose control. He could come back if he died, he could resume life after a few days.

But this man will never come back and it was his fault. If he wasn't just so selfish he would still be okay.]

Dear god I am a monster.

Yeah? So am I. So is everyone else. That's what we got signed up for when we got dragged here, remember?

[His voice is ragged as he drags himself up onto his knees, struggling to remain solid enough to crawl out of the ground. Ash's body fills with an angry static, a constant droning buzz filling his ears.]

I just want to go home, man. To a normal life, where I'm not forced to--forced to kill people just to survive. I need a goddamn vacation! I wanted to go to Jacksonville with my girlfriend before comin' here, did you know that? And then everything went to shit, and everything's been shit ever since then.

[There's an uncomfortable silence that follows his words. He can't just stay still, he needs to move. Ash draws himself up onto his feet, pacing back and forth. At least, he thinks he's pacing--in reality, he's just drifting to and fro, his feet drifting a few inches above the ground. His thoughts buzz like a hive of agitated wasps, constantly bombarding his brain with insults and laments.

He stops, suddenly, staring down at the man on the boardwalk. The static quiets. The silence isn't any more bearable than the noise.]

We need to move this guy.

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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, ASH WILLIAMS. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 05.22.09.12 * ASH WILLIAMS has joined 05.22.09.12 <boomstick69> you've reached the private inbox of the king himself, ashley j. williams ;) <boomstick69>** state your name and business and i'll see if i decide to get back to you