Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26052600-20160302043959/@comment-25547106-20160328193545

As the phantasms were swallowed, Mercy too felt what the shadow felt. Confusion, fear, hatred, and love. He as force fed all the billions of memories that the shadow had lived with her husband. He remembered what she remembered. The dark, stormy night, when the rain drowned the land. When Dreadnought sat beneath a tree to wait out the rain. When Belladonna awoke and was reunited with her lover. He was her at that moment. He didn't remember who he was... He didn't know anything about the world... He was afraid... But he was happy because he finlly met Dreadnought. After 300 years in his shadow... Watching him fight to die, watching him live for death... All that changed that day. Mercy remembered their quiet evenings, when they'd return to that tree and sit in the shade there. He remembered the first time the two of them touched without Belladonna's necrotic touch hurting him. He remembered when they hugged for the first time... And he remembered the fear that she felt when she had to talk him out of his berserk for the first time.

Belladonna drank down this hatred, and gave it the love it craved. One phantasm after another. She brought them into her amorphous arms and gave them the chilling, numbing embrace of an intimate death. She extinguisheded their hatred and smothered out their facsimile of life with an endeering death.

Dreadnought's eye crystal fractures, but does not give. His armored skull creaked under the strain, but it refused to be crushed. For each time Belladonna snuffed out one of Mercy's phantasms, his strength waned, a chilling - and yet loving - wave of pain washing over him.