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| Dicey Dangers, The Creepy Creature of Vulture's Vineyard
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Game by Joel Hills
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Yearning Axe
Your fingers brush cold steel, and the voice fills your whole mind at once, no longer a whisper but something vast and patient, unfolding around you like wings.
"There," it breathes, and for the first time it sounds almost grateful. "You have no idea how long I've waited for someone to actually listen. Everyone else who's touched me flinched away the moment they felt me looking back. But not you."
The warmth is a fire now, banked and glowing, and it feels less like temptation and more like recognition, like something in you has been waiting for this exact moment for far longer than you've been alive.
The last small, frightened part of you screams that this is the end of something, that whatever walks away from this moment will not be entirely you anymore.
"Pick me up," the voice says, gentle as a held hand. "I only want to be held. I only want to be free. Is that so much to ask, after everything?"
Your fingers brush cold steel, and the voice fills your whole mind at once, no longer a whisper but something vast and patient, unfolding around you like wings.
"There," it breathes, and for the first time it sounds almost grateful. "You have no idea how long I've waited for someone to actually listen. Everyone else who's touched me flinched away the moment they felt me looking back. But not you."
The warmth is a fire now, banked and glowing, and it feels less like temptation and more like recognition, like something in you has been waiting for this exact moment for far longer than you've been alive.
The last small, frightened part of you screams that this is the end of something, that whatever walks away from this moment will not be entirely you anymore.
"Pick me up," the voice says, gentle as a held hand. "I only want to be held. I only want to be free. Is that so much to ask, after everything?"
