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weak for you.
your eyes took a second to adjust to your surroundings, hands wiping away the drowsiness from your body. tall trees grace you with their looming presence as the branches sway in the wind, casting their shadows down on you. as if they were looking down at you.
not as if you can blame them, you've cheated death, after all. cheated? manipulated, more like. you could still feel the way the flames dug into you, ripping you apart piece by piece. tearing ligament by ligament, bone by marrow. all until you were nothing but a pile of ash.
ash of which, someone was dumb enough to collect into that amulet of yours. a simple ritual and boom, you're back. not as kind as that, of course, there was much more pain and snapping involved. afterall, your ashes had to convulse and manipulate themselves into becoming a living body once more.
"you're the one he clings to, yes?" a voice calls out to you, from behind you. the voice sounded a bit odd, one you definitely haven't heard before - at least not in your original life time.
"do tell on whom this 'he' is," you reply, raising your tone to that of a question towards the end with a small sigh. you had just rose from the dead, practically, this wasn't what you expected to deal with, not in the slightest.
"sukuna," the voice clarifies before coming into view, revealing a japanese man with scars around the top of his head. a weird look, if you must say so yourself, but it's definitely a look. maybe it's just the way the times have changed, you could only assume it's been a few centuries since your burning. after all, there were no lingering stakes in the woods.
"ah, still around, is he?" you reply as you stretch out your limbs. the least you could do is feel comfortable within your skin and ignore the lingering pain sensations travelling throughout you.
"came back a few months ago, almost a year now, i believe. you were a hard man to figure out, y'know," the man continues on talking, "sukuna clung to that little necklace of yours. refused to let go of it."
"that so, hm?" you let out a fake sign of interest. as much as you care for the curse you had made a deal with, the less he knew of your location - the better. that is how you get out of a deal, with unspecified terms, after all. "and whom are you, exactly? i'm assuming you figured out how to revive me."
"name's aren't all too important, they kept that little cabin of yours intact, actually," the man continues on, gesturing towards the little rundown shack a bit far away from the two of you.
it's definitely been a victim to nature over the years. holes litter between the wood, the grass has overgrown in front of it — not to even mention the vines that were growing all around the walls. it's a wonder how many different animals use the place as a respite from everything.
you move your legs, a movement you have yet to become accustomed to again, towards the little cabin of yours. the inside, surely, must have remained the same, if it's been kept intact all these years. barely intact, but still intact nevertheless.
looking back, for the man who brought back, doesn't occur to you — you need your tools, your candles. your wax, your writings. you need them, for maybe you can bring sukuna back to you; like how you summoned him all those years ago.
carefully as to not fall, you manage to maneuver some of the vines away from the door. if you possessed a blade, it would have been easier to get everything sorted — to get the vines removed. however, seeing how you were a pile of pure nothing, ashes, just mere moments ago, a blade is not something you could easily acquire.
the door pushes open with a creak, one that echoes throughout the run down building. as expected, the moon illuminated enough light to point out just about all the cobwebs in the space. you could only imagine how many pairs of eyes were on you now, how many different beings you've disturbed.
immediately, your eyes shift towards the bookshelf to your right — filled with all sorts of different literature on various beings. on various deities, demons, and curses quite like sukuna himself.
“maybe it won't be ruined,” you mumble to yourself as you reach for the book on curses, on summoning them. it's been quite some time, but with practiced ease you manage to grasp just the one you needed. the one you wanted.
the pages were slightly crinkled, probably to water damage, but still readable. barely, but it'll have to do. it's not as if you could go and... purchase such an old piece of literature again. back in your time, your day, you owned the only copy — passed down from a lineage of witches.
and as you skim over the pages, you reach for the box under your, completely destroyed, bed. one filled with all the materials you'd need for such an incantation. swiping away the cobwebs and dust, you grab an athame and several red candles;
