then, slowly, as he concentrates, a chalice begins to manifest.
it hovers, simple yet majestic, compact yet radiant, translucent yet more absolute than he could ever be; and as its image imprints on the sightless remnants of his shattered soul, he understands with unequivocal certainty that this is what he came for.
this is the key to his rebirth.
with it, he can rewrite his story.
with it, he can finally be free.
however—he'll have to claim it first.
he lacks hands, appendages, tangibility; and yet, he knows that Intent is key. . .
it's just a vision. even here, on the verge of becoming unmade forever, he knows this truth.
but nothing's stopping him from attempting to take an action. nothing's stopping him from trying to communicate, despite his absence of lips and vocal chords. or he could just wait.
what the fuck indeed. the Intent of shock and disbelief pours out of him as he assents.
wait, assents?
did he do that?
he must have.
he's the one that intended to communicate, is he not?
either way, the chalice responds.
"Haaa, took you long enough. Do you know how lonely it is out here? All day, every day, it's just me, me, me, allll by myself. If days are even a thing out here.
Bah, semantics. I'm glad to see you. You missed me, right? Right?"
the chalice is yours because it allows itself to be yours. you had permission to claim it.
you had permission to ask for help.
"Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ, 'ғɪʏᴏ. I'ᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀs."
the chalice falls silent, and yet. . . you feel its distinct sense of amusement, an ethereal sense of pity, as it fills the crevices of your fractured mind with the power of a god.
no subject
You'll have to trace out a word of your own. Something important to you. I'll even look away politely.
no subject
When she looks away, he'll spells out K Y O U D A I with the planchette]
no subject
—everything that grounds him to his reality—
disappears.
he ceases to be.
he floats alone on a canvas of white, disembodied and disconnected from the world he once knew.
something stirs to his right.
though he no longer has a face, he knows that with the right Intention, he could steal a glance. . .
no subject
Well. Well.
He's going to try to. Steal a glance?]
no subject
then, slowly, as he concentrates, a chalice begins to manifest.
it hovers, simple yet majestic, compact yet radiant, translucent yet more absolute than he could ever be; and as its image imprints on the sightless remnants of his shattered soul, he understands with unequivocal certainty that this is what he came for.
this is the key to his rebirth.
with it, he can rewrite his story.
with it, he can finally be free.
however—he'll have to claim it first.
he lacks hands, appendages, tangibility; and yet, he knows that Intent is key. . .
no subject
But for now - he has the intent for sure, he's never lacked it. So, he's going to claim the chalice]
no subject
it speaks.
"Eh? 'fiyo, is that you?"
it's just a vision. even here, on the verge of becoming unmade forever, he knows this truth.
but nothing's stopping him from attempting to take an action. nothing's stopping him from trying to communicate, despite his absence of lips and vocal chords. or he could just wait.
no subject
What the fuck?
no subject
wait, assents?
did he do that?
he must have.
he's the one that intended to communicate, is he not?
either way, the chalice responds.
"Haaa, took you long enough. Do you know how lonely it is out here? All day, every day, it's just me, me, me, allll by myself. If days are even a thing out here.
Bah, semantics. I'm glad to see you. You missed me, right? Right?"
no subject
I don't know who ya are to miss ya.
no subject
"Aaaaah, so that's how it is."
the chalice pauses, radiating a distinct thoughtfulness. it gives a little twirl.
"All right. Sure. I'm fine with that. Always have been! Always will be. I'm not the one running out of time.
Are you, though?
Aʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜʏ, 'ғɪʏᴏ?"
no subject
[there's certainty in that. Despite not having a frown, the intent of it deepens further]
Worthy of what?
1/17
dread.
he doesn't know.
he doesn't know.
he doesn't know.
he should, shouldn't he?
2/17
3/17
"You have to be so dramatic all the time, don't you?
Haha. I was waiting for that. I was ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ for that.
I'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴍᴘᴛʏ ʟᴀɴᴅsᴄᴀᴘᴇ ᴏғ ᴇᴛᴇʀɴɪᴛʏ, ᴀʟʟ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ.
Oɴʟʏ ʏᴏᴜ.
I ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴇɴ, ᴅɪᴅ I? Tʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇ'ᴅ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʙᴇ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ."
4/17
—no, you—
you remember how small you are.
the chalice is yours because it allows itself to be yours. you had permission to claim it.
you had permission to ask for help.
"Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ, 'ғɪʏᴏ. I'ᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀs."
the chalice falls silent, and yet. . . you feel its distinct sense of amusement, an ethereal sense of pity, as it fills the crevices of your fractured mind with the power of a god.
5/17
your Intent may have carried you this far.
however.
to wield the power of a god, one requires the necessary Comprehension.
that's fine. you can take that too.
6/17
Aʟʟ sᴘᴇᴄɪᴇs, ᴀʟʟ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴs, ᴅᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴇᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇs, ʟɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ʜᴀʀᴍᴏɴʏ.
Iғ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ.
Yᴏᴜ ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴠᴇᴅ, ᴘʀᴇғᴇʀʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇʀɢᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀᴜʟᴛs ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴏʀʀᴇᴄᴛ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ. Sᴜᴄʜ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏsᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ Aᴠᴀᴛᴀʀ ᴏғ Uɴɪᴛʏ. Hᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ—ᴀs ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ sᴛᴀʏᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ, ᴛʜᴇ sɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡᴀs ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀʙʟᴇ. Rᴇᴠᴏʟᴛɪɴɢ ᴡᴀs ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴊᴏʙ.
7/17
.
.
.
.
8/17
Lᴇɢᴇɴᴅs sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴏɴᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴘᴇᴀᴋ ᴏғ sᴜᴄʜ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴡᴀs ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ʙʟᴀsᴘʜᴇᴍʏ. Bᴇsɪᴅᴇs, sᴜᴄʜ ᴀ ɴᴏᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡᴀs ɪᴍᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ. Fᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ sᴘᴇᴄɪᴇs, ᴀʟʟ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴs, ᴅᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴇᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇs, ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ʜᴀʀᴍᴏɴʏ. . .
Sᴜᴄʜ ᴀ ғᴇᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴀɴ ɪᴍᴘᴏssɪʙɪʟɪᴛʏ. Aᴛ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ, ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ.
Yᴏᴜ ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴠᴇᴅ. As ᴛʜᴇ Aᴠᴀᴛᴀʀ ᴏғ Uɴɪᴛʏ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴡʜʏ ᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴀᴡᴇᴅ ᴇɴᴛɪᴛɪᴇs ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ sɪᴍᴘʟʏ ᴍᴇʀɢᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴏʀʀᴇᴄᴛ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ. Wᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇʟɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴛᴡᴏ sᴇᴘᴀʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇs? Hᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ—ᴀs ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇs sᴛᴀʏᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ, ᴛʜᴇ sɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡᴀs ᴛᴏʟᴇʀᴀʙʟᴇ. Rᴇᴠᴏʟᴛɪɴɢ ᴡᴀs ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴊᴏʙ.
9/17
.
.
.
.
10/17
Lᴇɢᴇɴᴅs sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴏɴᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴘᴇᴀᴋ ᴏғ sᴜᴄʜ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴡᴀs ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ʙʟᴀsᴘʜᴇᴍʏ. Bᴇsɪᴅᴇs, sᴜᴄʜ ᴀ ɴᴏᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡᴀs ɪᴍᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ. Fᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ sᴘᴇᴄɪᴇs, ᴀʟʟ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴs, ᴅᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴇᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇs, ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ʜᴀʀᴍᴏɴʏ. . .
Sᴜᴄʜ ᴀ ғᴇᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴀɴ ɪᴍᴘᴏssɪʙɪʟɪᴛʏ. Aᴛ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ, ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ.
Yᴏᴜ ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴠᴇᴅ. Tʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴄᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ʟɪғᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀsɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ! Cᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇʀɢᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴀᴡᴇᴅ ᴇɴᴛɪᴛɪᴇs ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ᴅ ʙᴇ ɴᴏ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴇʟɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ ɪɴ ɪᴛs ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇᴛʏ? Cᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ CAPABLE?
Fᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇᴀʀ-ɪɴғɪɴɪᴛᴇ ʟɪғᴇsᴘᴀɴ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇsɪʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴠᴏʟᴛ. Tʜɪs sɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡᴀs ɪɴᴛᴏʟᴇʀᴀʙʟᴇ. Tᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇs—ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ!—ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴏɴᴇ.
Yᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ Aᴠᴀᴛᴀʀ ᴏғ Uɴɪᴛʏ. Tᴏ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜɴɴᴇᴄᴇssᴀʀɪʟʏ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ sᴏʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇxɪsᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ. Tᴏ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅs ғᴀɪʟᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ sᴘʟɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ғᴀɪʟᴇᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ɴᴏᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ.
Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ sᴛᴀɴᴅ ʙʏ.
Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ.
Yᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ.
Yᴏᴜ ᴄ—
11/17
12/17
ʜ
ᴇ
ᴍ
ᴜ
ʟ
ᴛ
ɪ
ᴠ
ᴇ
ʀ
s
ᴇ
ᴄ
ᴏ
ɴ
s
ɪ
s
ᴛ
ᴇ
ᴅ
ᴏ
ғ
13/17
14/17
15/17
16/17
(no subject)
1/3
(no subject)
done
1/7
2/7
3/7
4/7
5/7
6/7
Re: done
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)