Categories > Games > Silent Hill > Story's End
The Geisha
0 reviewsCompleate:: A final moment of storytime from one Patient of Brookhaven to another...Art of Moroi can be found at anarchicq.deviantart.com
0Unrated
DISCLAIMER: Here we go again, boys and girls. Well, here we have a SH favorite making an appearance, modified accordingly. I think we all know how I feel about "Mixing Monsters". Don't do it. Moroi Kakyuu belongs to me, Don't use her without permission, I'll probably say yes, if you ask nicely. Silent Hill belongs to Konami, still the luckiest gaming bastards ever.
The Geisha
A SH ficlet by Q
Moroi Kakyuu ran a slender hand through her shortly cropped, raven coloured hair. As her finger caught a snag, she ignored it, her hand absently pulling from the tresses and falling at her side. Moroi was in trouble: Her friends journals were gone, and she seemed utterly alone. Her original plan was to run out of this God-Forsaken place with her friends journals, and to taste freedom once again. However, her dearly departed friend's mementos had vanished, and Moroi, being a girl of rather high loyalty and sentiment, could not just abandon them. It was wrong.
Stepping fully out onto the path, the young woman stared down the hall, brows furrowing. As a light growl echoed down the hall to her ear, Moroi's eyes narrowed. That sound was real, not in her mind, even though the nurses often told her that such a thing was impossible. But there it was, ticking her eardrum, taunting her senses, and what was left of her threaded, hairline fractured sanity.
The ground was chilled against the rough pads of her feet, one of the few course spots on her fair body. It was clammy for no apparent reason, and sent a chill rolling up Moroi's spine. Snailgirl's soft hands compulsively let her fingers twitch and fist and flick, tightening and stretching to their limits. The sheer desertion of Brookhaven's halls made her nervous.
By now, Moroi's bare feet had taken her down the corridor, it's cold, dilapidated walls not changing their state. She sighed as a cheerless set of double doors blocked her path. Chewing idley on her tongue, Moroi gripped the crossbar and pushed the left door open. It groaned, and stood against her forceful pushes with resilience, yet in the end, Moroi was triumphant, and passed the door. It clattered loudly behind her as it slammed shut, and the nervous girl jumped, head turning sharply to look back at the rude door.
Taking a moment to catch her breath, Moroi turned back to face forward, this corridor was the same as the one previous. Moroi groaned,dragging her feet as she headed down the right fork in the hall. Rounding the corner, the girl turned her eyes, now dull with nerves and loneliness, to the small plaque posted on the door to her left.
567
Doctor's Lounge
"They might have a telephone in here." Deadpanned the girl as she gripped the doorknob. It too, was as icy as the rest of Moroi's surroundings. Turning the knob, she pushed the door open, and entered the room.
A twisted moan caught the girl's attention, and her eyes befell a figure, mottled, hap-hazard and vial. It was a woman in shape, her body leaning heavily on a wheel-mounted intravenous stand. The IV packet was clutched in what Moroi expected to be a hand, but was more of a prosthetic claw, two large, hook shaped pieces of metal serving as fingers. She was dressed in a nurse's cap, and her outfit was reminiscent of a nurse as well, but the skirt slit up to either hip, and the collar was low, off the shoulders, and cut like a kimono. It was also made entirely out of bandages.
It's hair was done up in an elaborate bun, held together with long syringe-needles, in place of chopsticks. But instead of piercing through the hair, they punctured the nurse's skull, right behind the ears.
Despite the 'woman's' appearance, she was amazingly swift, and snapped the loose tube from the IV bag like a whip. Moroi's eyes widened like saucers, her voice catching in her throat.
Another crack of the IV whip caught Moroi's cheek, and sliced it viciously. Snailgirl cried out, pressing her palm to the wound, eyes always on the monster. It hissed and bubbled at her, head twitching quickly as if it were cast in a paint-can shaker.
"What are you?!" Screamed the girl, cornered by the monster.
In answer, it cracked the IV again, this time, successfully wrapping the plastic-y tube around Moroi's ankle and pulling yanking, managing to pull the girl's feet out from under her. Moroi's form executed a rather impressive flip before landing forcefully upon her stomach, winded. She coughed, her lower ribs aching from the landing. Weakly, Moroi tried to push herself up. She had partially succeeded, before she felt the tube constrict around her neck, and the weight of the nurse pressed against her back. The tubes tightened, closing off her air passage, the pull arching her body backward.
Her vision began to swim as tears of panic gathered in her eyes. Her flat, bitten nails could grab nothing from the ground as they scratched and struggled against the tile. Another painful tug bent her farther backward.
The geisha-nurse hissed venomously in her ear for a final time, before Moroi's already fragile resilience was shattered.
Fri. July 9th 9:47am
The Geisha
A SH ficlet by Q
Moroi Kakyuu ran a slender hand through her shortly cropped, raven coloured hair. As her finger caught a snag, she ignored it, her hand absently pulling from the tresses and falling at her side. Moroi was in trouble: Her friends journals were gone, and she seemed utterly alone. Her original plan was to run out of this God-Forsaken place with her friends journals, and to taste freedom once again. However, her dearly departed friend's mementos had vanished, and Moroi, being a girl of rather high loyalty and sentiment, could not just abandon them. It was wrong.
Stepping fully out onto the path, the young woman stared down the hall, brows furrowing. As a light growl echoed down the hall to her ear, Moroi's eyes narrowed. That sound was real, not in her mind, even though the nurses often told her that such a thing was impossible. But there it was, ticking her eardrum, taunting her senses, and what was left of her threaded, hairline fractured sanity.
The ground was chilled against the rough pads of her feet, one of the few course spots on her fair body. It was clammy for no apparent reason, and sent a chill rolling up Moroi's spine. Snailgirl's soft hands compulsively let her fingers twitch and fist and flick, tightening and stretching to their limits. The sheer desertion of Brookhaven's halls made her nervous.
By now, Moroi's bare feet had taken her down the corridor, it's cold, dilapidated walls not changing their state. She sighed as a cheerless set of double doors blocked her path. Chewing idley on her tongue, Moroi gripped the crossbar and pushed the left door open. It groaned, and stood against her forceful pushes with resilience, yet in the end, Moroi was triumphant, and passed the door. It clattered loudly behind her as it slammed shut, and the nervous girl jumped, head turning sharply to look back at the rude door.
Taking a moment to catch her breath, Moroi turned back to face forward, this corridor was the same as the one previous. Moroi groaned,dragging her feet as she headed down the right fork in the hall. Rounding the corner, the girl turned her eyes, now dull with nerves and loneliness, to the small plaque posted on the door to her left.
567
Doctor's Lounge
"They might have a telephone in here." Deadpanned the girl as she gripped the doorknob. It too, was as icy as the rest of Moroi's surroundings. Turning the knob, she pushed the door open, and entered the room.
A twisted moan caught the girl's attention, and her eyes befell a figure, mottled, hap-hazard and vial. It was a woman in shape, her body leaning heavily on a wheel-mounted intravenous stand. The IV packet was clutched in what Moroi expected to be a hand, but was more of a prosthetic claw, two large, hook shaped pieces of metal serving as fingers. She was dressed in a nurse's cap, and her outfit was reminiscent of a nurse as well, but the skirt slit up to either hip, and the collar was low, off the shoulders, and cut like a kimono. It was also made entirely out of bandages.
It's hair was done up in an elaborate bun, held together with long syringe-needles, in place of chopsticks. But instead of piercing through the hair, they punctured the nurse's skull, right behind the ears.
Despite the 'woman's' appearance, she was amazingly swift, and snapped the loose tube from the IV bag like a whip. Moroi's eyes widened like saucers, her voice catching in her throat.
Another crack of the IV whip caught Moroi's cheek, and sliced it viciously. Snailgirl cried out, pressing her palm to the wound, eyes always on the monster. It hissed and bubbled at her, head twitching quickly as if it were cast in a paint-can shaker.
"What are you?!" Screamed the girl, cornered by the monster.
In answer, it cracked the IV again, this time, successfully wrapping the plastic-y tube around Moroi's ankle and pulling yanking, managing to pull the girl's feet out from under her. Moroi's form executed a rather impressive flip before landing forcefully upon her stomach, winded. She coughed, her lower ribs aching from the landing. Weakly, Moroi tried to push herself up. She had partially succeeded, before she felt the tube constrict around her neck, and the weight of the nurse pressed against her back. The tubes tightened, closing off her air passage, the pull arching her body backward.
Her vision began to swim as tears of panic gathered in her eyes. Her flat, bitten nails could grab nothing from the ground as they scratched and struggled against the tile. Another painful tug bent her farther backward.
The geisha-nurse hissed venomously in her ear for a final time, before Moroi's already fragile resilience was shattered.
Fri. July 9th 9:47am
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