chapter 12, Armbands

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(A/N: TW bugs/worms! Proceed with caution if you hate bugs too, please.)





Mao Zimo deeply regretted getting poisened earlier. If he really could've spent a night in the library, one of the millions of books was sure to have something about getting rid of spirits. Bound to his soul or not, there was certainly a way to nullify that bond. After having been treathened again, he forced himself to be hopeful. If worst came to worst, biting off his own tongue was still better than getting his soul eaten, right? 'We'll see who kills who!' He thought drunkenly. He won't act rashly but his liquid confidence was surging inside of him while he closed the door. Unfortunatly, he and that confidence quickly got swallowed by the darkness of the hallway.
Passing out earlier activated his 'curse' and therefor caused him to forget the layout of the house completely. Appearantly, the spirit didn't let him suffer for long as he was still able to remember the rest of what happened. Not like it mattered if he still knew the layout. His goal was to find the array, knowing the way to the main room was useless for now.

He felt weak, cold and energized at the same time. It was awful, like when he drunk coffee to stay awake in the past but was still too exhausted to do anything. Then he was only tired as hell with his heart in his throat and shaking fingers. At least he wasn't dead.
Swallowing his fear and thoughts, he kept his steps as light as possible. His left hand felt along the wall as he walked. In front of him was only darkness. So much so that he didn't know wether his eyes were open or closed. His skin crawled and his fingers on the wall twitched when he thought he accidently touched some mold. The farther he walked, the damper he wall became. His whole body shuddered in disgust. The wine glass was held close to his chest like it was his life line (it was) and for a few minutes all he could hear was his own breathing, his quiet footsteps and the liquid sloshing in the same rhythym. He realized now that he should've brought a candle with him. What if he accidently touched a spider?

The longer he walked, the more sober he became even if he was still feeling too cold. It couldn't be helped though. Who knew how much blood the spirit drank from him? It didn't look well at all. Still beautiful but a bit transparent and sick. It dawned on him that this was a very serious moment. He almost died again. That was so scary. The sound of his feet hitting the ground turned a bit dull as the ground started mirroring the wall. It was either moldy too or damp.. His question got answered as each step got accompied by a low splashing sound. It sounded like he was walking in puddles. They got deeper and deeper until the soles of his feet were soaked. They weren't that wet earlier so he must've taken he wrong way. Maybe the room above him was leaking water? How come the Temple Master didn't fix that yet? The whole floor will be ruined that way.. One step in the wrong direction still is progress. Now he knew he went the wrong way.

He turned around and walked into a wall. 'The darkness sure is fucking with my sense of direction, haha!' He thought as he spinned again only to run into a wall again. Panick started to spread in his heart like a hand squeezing it. The darkness made everything worse. Having learned of his mistakes, he reached out to touch all around him. It was so disgusting, getting worse the more he felt along the walls. Even without stepping forward or backward, the 'puddle' slowly got deeper until the water reached his ankles. Only then he realized that the liquid felt a bit too thick and silky. He didn't even get to search a single room yet and was already face to face with a situation like that. Maybe he should've listened to the spirit? For what? To get poisened again before trying next time? His thoughts turned hopeless as the liquid was rising. All around him were walls. The house really did want to keep him. His hands searched everything up and down as fast as possible. He didn't want to imagine what the walls looked like. They were way too soft and every once in a while he felt small things crawling underneath his fingertips. His hair stood on end, fingers twitching everytime he felt something that wasn't mold. There wasn't a single hole in the wall. He was stuck between four of them, creating a space as small as a telephone cell. Everthing was closed off. The house wasn't his only enemy. The second the spirit decided that he was in danger it would eat him. 'Deep breaths, deep breaths..' He thought in an attempt to keep himself calm. His heart beat like he was about to get a panick attack. Then it would really be over. He thanked god for the wine now, if he had to smell everything here too, his demise wouldn't be far away.
The liquid was turning more solid and rose slowly as he franctically searched along the walls. There was nothing else he could do. His fist punched the softest parts he found, destroying he homes of the bugs. They stuck to his hand in response and crawled up his arms. They were too long for ordinary bugs and slimy, leaving the paths they took on his hand wet. Mao Zimo couldn't hold back his retching, shoulders shaking violently as he tried to 'dig' his way through the soft wood.

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