Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26517142-20170106142830/@comment-28358106-20170909005725

Thomas knows he can't force her to change her ways. The psyche has a way of holding on to the sins of the past and forging them into tools of the gentlest form of self-destruction. Scars in the mind may pass them by, but in doing so, they never truly heal.

The unreal world shakes around him; he knows time is short. He knows he has an opportunity that none ever have, or ever will again.

He focuses on her, straining his mind, reaching into the depths of her being. Emotion, that singular puppet string of the soul, can be held in sway by the most powerful feeling of all. The one that overrides all else, whether or not the carrier wishes it. He looks for it, tries to make it manifest in this field of the intangible.

Then, he sees it.

He does not hesitate. His own form shaking, he reaches out, towards her, with both hands, grasping. His arms move with deliberate purpose. He comes close, his fingers wrapping around the manifest pain. He slowly leans back, pulling.

He draws the blade of Guilt from Memphis' psyche.

The wicked sword, shimmering and evil, more subtle than a thousamd whispered nothings, shudders in his grip as it slides from her chest. It tries to free utself, tries to stay where it knows it can reside without challenge...

Thomas pulls, and it is out. It is done. Darkness falls...

...And the two of them awaken.

Thomas, on the ground, on his side, his clothes drenched with sweat. He rolls over, groaning, trying to push to his feet.

"...You...had to let it go...sometime..." he manages to gasp.