[ There is some allowance given to them. Walls of light and walls of fire, leaving a space for them if they're fast enough, if they can recognise the pattern that sweeps through.
The injury that doesn't close slows them down, but they throw themselves recklessly into the attack, as they've done so many times before. The essence of their creation, shielding them from harm, letting heat and light pass through and over them without trace of a scar.
(How many times did I kill you? That conversation seems so far away now. But in the end, the answer is simple.
Enough to learn.)
It's impossible to forget who they fight, even if they forgot all else, even if they let it drown in sorrow that seems to deaden the world. The connections they've made and the people they love are, it seems to them, the best and brightest part of them.
(This is a test for them, too; they can't deny or forget themselves, their own pain, their own fear, even if it hurts. It doesn't do them any favours. It doesn't make anything better.
Fear cannot be denied. If they've learned anything, it's that.)
The nail sings, a sharp whirlwind aiming to cut into him once more. But the familiar chime of the Dream Nail blends with it.
For a moment, they use both, and aim to strike with both. They had promised, but
they are already fighting the Nightmare King. So, just this once, in this place where - at least in his memories - he is whole -- they want to know his mind. ]
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The injury that doesn't close slows them down, but they throw themselves recklessly into the attack, as they've done so many times before. The essence of their creation, shielding them from harm, letting heat and light pass through and over them without trace of a scar.
(How many times did I kill you? That conversation seems so far away now. But in the end, the answer is simple.
Enough to learn.)
It's impossible to forget who they fight, even if they forgot all else, even if they let it drown in sorrow that seems to deaden the world. The connections they've made and the people they love are, it seems to them, the best and brightest part of them.
(This is a test for them, too; they can't deny or forget themselves, their own pain, their own fear, even if it hurts. It doesn't do them any favours. It doesn't make anything better.
Fear cannot be denied. If they've learned anything, it's that.)
The nail sings, a sharp whirlwind aiming to cut into him once more. But the familiar chime of the Dream Nail blends with it.
For a moment, they use both, and aim to strike with both. They had promised, but
they are already fighting the Nightmare King. So, just this once, in this place where - at least in his memories - he is whole -- they want to know his mind. ]