[The words continue. The pain continues. Any screaming or protests, they don't dissuade the Dark Field. In fact, it just encourages it, the pain intensifying and--
...and then? What? It all stops. Very suddenly. The words, the scratches.
It will start slow. The Chosen will feel something, a touch. It is perhaps the most comforting kind of touch they can imagine: a lover, a friend, a family member -- it is whatever they want, whatever they need. They may associate it with a specific person. They may see that person, in the dark haze. Whatever it is, it is good. It is nice.
And then it all goes wrong.
The touch, wherever it is, suddenly shoots to the Chosen's neck. There are no hands, just a squeezing around their throat, tighter and tighter. Try to fight, but against what? There's no one there.
There's nothing there.
A flash, like a strobe, and they are surrounded by wastelands, familiar places in ruin, loved ones dead, and then back to the darkness of the field. All the while, the unseen hands keep trying to choke them.
no subject
...and then? What? It all stops. Very suddenly. The words, the scratches.
It will start slow. The Chosen will feel something, a touch. It is perhaps the most comforting kind of touch they can imagine: a lover, a friend, a family member -- it is whatever they want, whatever they need. They may associate it with a specific person. They may see that person, in the dark haze. Whatever it is, it is good. It is nice.
And then it all goes wrong.
The touch, wherever it is, suddenly shoots to the Chosen's neck. There are no hands, just a squeezing around their throat, tighter and tighter. Try to fight, but against what? There's no one there.
There's nothing there.
A flash, like a strobe, and they are surrounded by wastelands, familiar places in ruin, loved ones dead, and then back to the darkness of the field. All the while, the unseen hands keep trying to choke them.
There's nothing there.]