The chess helped a bit with the pain.
He never felt so utterly broken before. His mind was a well brimming with chaos, Correspondence sigils ever-dancing before his eyes. He forgot to sleep for days, and then passed away in the most awful places - an honey-den Veilgarden, his desk at the University, even a rooftop in Spite. He often woke up screaming, and more tired than before.
But chess was order and rules and precision and whiteness among the dark; making moves and studying strategies helped him regain sanity. He started with manuals, repeating the matches of the great masters and resolving chess puzzles, but the letters wavered on the pages and the booming silence scratched his ears.
The room felt so empty. Even his weasels were keeping him at distance, fearing to become his next feast.
They were wrong. He would never hurt his animals.
Ever.
Really.
Maybe.
(Not.)
He… He wasn’t sure anymore. His stomach was a knot of endless hunger, and nowadays he just devoured whatever he could find.
Books. Raw meat. Candles. He almost ate a chess piece two days ago, but he managed to put him down.
He didn’t want to lose even that.
He started Seeking again - but this time, he searched for worthy opponents. He sent a few letters (he managed not to drink all the ink) and asked around "Are you in the mood for a match, delicious friend?"
And people wanted to play.
Many were restless and weary like him. The Seeking deal was like a silent sickness, eating the whole city.
So a friend came. And then another friend. And then an acquaintance, and a friend of a friend of a friend, and now he’s sitting in a room full of people, many unknown, all focused on their little worlds of black and white.
Some weep silently while playing, tears dripping on the chess boards. Most are very silent, but he can see the unspoken questions dancing on their eyelids. The sorrowful regrets, the sickly and jaundiced pride.
I Seeked the Name.
I went farther than every one of you.
I am the one who lost the most.
Too many players and not enough chairs. He’s sitting on the floor now, legs crossed, an homemade chessboard made with ink and paper drawn in front of him.
After a quick glance at his opponent, he eats one of his pawns (just a button) with his rook (the broken piece of a pencil).
"Your move."
And then he politely asks:
"Would you like some tea?"
Because being broken and pitiful and mad is not an excuse for not being a good host.
[quote]OFF GAME
I’m not a native speaker, so please have pity of my grammar. I’m trying my best! PM me if you notice glaring errors.
Anyway, welcome to the chess salon! The scene is open to everyone. It was inspired by Seekers spamming each other with chess invitations, but even non-seeker can happily roleplay with us.
Just be silent and try not to eat the chesspieces. Oh, and write on the top of your post who are you talking to, please, it will make interactions easier if the scene gets crowded.[/quote]
edited by Zero on 6/17/2016