Green Labyrinth
YOU'RE THE CLOSEST THING TO HELL I'VE SEEN SO FAR Volterra is not a believer. He does not think that an afterlife exists, or that there's a heaven and a hell - he believes that death is absolute, with no way back. When somebody is gone, they're gone. When he sees the ghost, then, he should know better. He should see straight through the macabre apparition that appears in front of him, as though crafted for him and him alone; he should know that it cannot be true, that it cannot be her, because she is nothing but dust and dreams now. Hope, however, is a powerful thing. Even grizzled warlords like Volterra, who understand the cycle of life and death more than most, fall victim to it. As the ghost materialises in front of him, it looks so much like her that he feels his heart soar like a spirit inside his chest, rising through his neck to his throat where it catches, his eyes glowing with delight - the first time the crimson orbs have shown any emotion since their owner witnessed Isopia's death. "Kis hollo?" His voice, usually so authoritative and menacing, is soft, boyish, like the whispered prayer of a child. Deep down he knows that it's not her, but that small seed of sense is buried beneath dozens of layers of hope. There's others; their greedy claws and teeth reach for anything around them, yet Volterra does not think the Isopia-ghost seems as violent as the others. Because it's her, he tells himself, even though he knows the truth is more likely because the spirit hasn't noticed him yet. "Kis hollo, it's me," he tells the ghost, marching towards it as it dances amongst its brethren. He can't wait to speak to her for real again, can't wait to tell her how much he's missed her, how much the children have missed her - he can't wait to touch her, to feel her spectral flesh beneath his skin once again. That is, until he finds himself in the centre of a cloud of savagely ripping, tearing ghosts, each one filled with nothing more than malice. His Isopia-ghost turns on him too, like a shark that scents blood; he wonders if it can feel his hope dying inside him, if it can feel the collapse of his sudden burst of joy as though it's a house of cards. Is his grief delicious, he wonders? It's not her, it's just a vicious apparition designed to taunt him; he feels his rage hatching from the gaping chasm where his happiness was just moments before, and with a savage snarl he lunges towards the Isopia-ghost. How dare it take on the form of his beloved? How dare it cause him such a horrible landslide of emotions, from the delight at seeing her to the soul-crushing agony when he realised the truth? The leviathan unleashes a thunderous roar, and throws himself towards the Isopia-ghost to try and drive it towards its wolf master. |
TL;DR: A grief-stricken Vol follows around a ghost that takes the form of Isopia, then tries to push it towards Reszo when he realises it's not her.
