[Thank whatever god there might be that he got stuck with someone who not only apparently likes him, but who has one very useful devil fruit. It almost makes him wonder if he's needed for something; if the universe doesn't want him to just die down here after the fluke that was his return from death the first time. But no, he's not that special. He played his role and Law is alive and the rest is just him fumbling through what to do with the extra time.
Once the rope is in place he chomps his sheathed knife between his teeth - it will be easier to reach there than if he clips it back onto his pants - and hauls himself precariously up the statue. But it stays solid despite its detailed construction, less delicate than it appears, perhaps, and once he's found solid footing the few feet up he needed to climb, he draws the knife from its sheath and holds an arm over the chalice. Palm seems too delicate, too easy to slice a tendon. Finger probably isn't enough. Just another scar to add to the mess is all it is. He does hesitate briefly, then draws the knife across the underside of his arm in a swift motion and lets the blood drip into the cup.
Immediately it lights up brighter than before, and before it can fade, a second drop falls and it re-lights. Fascinated, Rosinante stays put and waits, and soon the illumination grows bright and consistent. At this point, the symbols on the door begin to brighten until they glow a brilliant blue. The door begins to shake in its frame, and then to lift from the floor, and the buzzing grows immediately louder.
As Rosinante falls his way back down to the ground in a failed attempt at climbing down, the contents of the room beyond become visible. It looks to be some sort of ancient throne room, full of cobwebs and dust. A tattered strip of fabric runs from the opening to the old wooden throne, and the runner is lined with skeletons. Eight in total, four on each side, who seem to have died curled up with hands at their throats.
And as the door finally rises to its peak and lets in a little more light, the source of the buzzing becomes more obvious as well, for at the far end of the runner, congregated before the throne, is a dense cloud of glittering green-bodied flies.]
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timeasmymeasure
cw: self-harm... for magic?
Date: 2019-03-28 10:27 pm (UTC)[Thank whatever god there might be that he got stuck with someone who not only apparently likes him, but who has one very useful devil fruit. It almost makes him wonder if he's needed for something; if the universe doesn't want him to just die down here after the fluke that was his return from death the first time. But no, he's not that special. He played his role and Law is alive and the rest is just him fumbling through what to do with the extra time.
Once the rope is in place he chomps his sheathed knife between his teeth - it will be easier to reach there than if he clips it back onto his pants - and hauls himself precariously up the statue. But it stays solid despite its detailed construction, less delicate than it appears, perhaps, and once he's found solid footing the few feet up he needed to climb, he draws the knife from its sheath and holds an arm over the chalice. Palm seems too delicate, too easy to slice a tendon. Finger probably isn't enough. Just another scar to add to the mess is all it is. He does hesitate briefly, then draws the knife across the underside of his arm in a swift motion and lets the blood drip into the cup.
Immediately it lights up brighter than before, and before it can fade, a second drop falls and it re-lights. Fascinated, Rosinante stays put and waits, and soon the illumination grows bright and consistent. At this point, the symbols on the door begin to brighten until they glow a brilliant blue. The door begins to shake in its frame, and then to lift from the floor, and the buzzing grows immediately louder.
As Rosinante falls his way back down to the ground in a failed attempt at climbing down, the contents of the room beyond become visible. It looks to be some sort of ancient throne room, full of cobwebs and dust. A tattered strip of fabric runs from the opening to the old wooden throne, and the runner is lined with skeletons. Eight in total, four on each side, who seem to have died curled up with hands at their throats.
And as the door finally rises to its peak and lets in a little more light, the source of the buzzing becomes more obvious as well, for at the far end of the runner, congregated before the throne, is a dense cloud of glittering green-bodied flies.]