and the tears fall, and the universe is shown

and the tears fall, and the universe is shown 

possession (pt 1), by the magnificent Gaccari
 

A brief sequel to this post, following from my next glaugust prompt: "unconventional damage types." Really just an expansion on my thoughts at the end of that post, about terror and heat and other variations on wounds. 

——— 

We can say that each wound has a species that follows from the source. You might group them on cards or tally them separately or use different colored glass stones. Each of them must be undone in a different special way. This doesn't replace the normal rules for giving back wounds through actions or sacrifices, it's more like a palette those actions must paint from, or other times a condition that makes them possible.

The species of wound go like this: 

Spring, for young animals and lightning strikes and driving rain and growing up and plummeting from high places and poison and dancing plagues. Undone only in union with something stable and old.
Summer, for authority figures and zealots and exhaustion and machines of all kinds and metal and stone and strangulation and being set on fire. Undone only through total indulgence in summertime things.
Autumn, for traps and thorns and drowning waters and betrayal and parasites and ancient animals and revenants and anything done by surprise. Undone with escape into the sublime, into dreams, into hope.
Winter, for sickness and age and heartbreak and starvation and stagnation and infection and winter itself, winter like night fallen forever. Undone only and always by becoming something new.
Miasma, for failure and broken promises and domesticated animals and radiation poisoning and ghosts. Undone through absolution or obliviation.
Ruin, for vengeance and torture and orders obeyed or disobeyed and persecution and false reprieves. Undone in power over what hates you.
Hanahaki-byō, for limerence and inescapable telos and the shock of relief from pain and overdose and the agony of transformation. Undone by devouring, by being devoured.
Fear, older than anything you know. Undone by...
Love, older still. Undone by nothing. 

Also: if you roll to try something that hurts you, and the wounds you roll come up higher than the result you got for the attempt, you don't just take another wound– the attempt also fails. This won't stop you from leveraging your wounds to accomplish things by rolling them insteadThat will only get easier, as every other road is flooded with an agony impassible. The vast possibility of you diminishes like a spark in ashes, the scale of sacrifice required to heal the wounds you've suffered rising around you like a palace of thorns to hold and protect you. The issue of struggle is death. The opposite of struggle is death.


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