Post by opossum on Jun 19, 2016 15:22:34 GMT -8
"How many years, I know I'll bear, because I found something in the woods somewhere..." - Subject 88
Accessing......
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Z:\Users\Project88\R-A-M.exe\Run
Media State . . . . . . . . . : Media Connected
Connection-specific DNS Suffix . . : 198.088.1.14
Wireless LAN Cerebral Adapter Network Assimilation:
Connection IPv6 . . . . . . . : Fe80: :f8f8:bb96:7a63:26b5%5
IPv4 Adress . . . . . . . . . : 192.168.1.15
Subnet Mask . . . . . . . : 255.255.255.0
Default Gateway . . . . . . . : 192.168.1.1
Rendering-Export.....
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1...
There it was. The cubicle. A testament to: growth potential, Controlled isolation, and survival. Nothing taught me better how to avoid people, or how to make sure I knew what I was doing like the cubicle. There I was though, in some sort of mind-ception-esque Kevorkian torture, I was just staring at myself. Led here by some bullshit about heart light, Through the world tree, by fairy squirrels, Via the shiniest Bone-gnawer I've ever seen in my life. Accompanied by his Hyena Cohort, I was a lot a loss for words.
I just stood there. Silent. The world inside this cubicle always seemed so large. The studio style apartment I called home till I became a cleoth. One handed typing at the computer, spending endless hours chatting and traversing the G.Walker-net. My old Screen-name comes up the most often: 88Talons, obviously. I wanted people to be sure I was going to sink my claw into everything I could get ahold of. Also I had arm and hand envy.
I was small, meek. I didn't have much exercise, cept for when the physical instructor would come in every once in a while, bringing a few weights or rolling in the treadmill. I kinda liked those times, It was exciting to get used to these things, know that I was prepping myself for the outside world. The missing arm though, it always held me back. I would look at my right, and be thankful I still had it. That I was right handed was coincidence, or by practice, I'll never really know.
Standing at the door, I could only think As I watched my younger self fiddling away at the computer. "You've got so much ahead of you. So much you don't even know. Mom's face, Your whole disgrace with the sellout to the spirits just to get what you need to get by at the skin of your elbows. You wont even know for ages, or...what seems like ages. Can you understand that? Can you even comprehend the work you're about to do? What I'm doing right now? Though...that begs the question.....If I knew then what I know now, would I have gone through with it? Or given up and just become another statistic in the war against the Great Entropy that is the Wyrm? We'll know...in time...Now how the fuck do we leave?"
I gazed around, but the world around here was so...basic. Just the room itself, and nothing else. Outside this was oblivion. This singular memory, isolated, a window into the past. Things that I'd rather not have people ever see. Know my full roots, where I'm going. I trust very few with these things, and if they ever leaked it, I'd fucking clench their throats shut.
"W͔̥̞̲ha̠t̰͎̥̖̣͇̩͝ ̵̠̹w̼e͎̫͚̘r̴e͏͎͇ ̟̺y̬o̞͙u e͉̲̦̬͉̺̖x̛̩͚̭̱p̡̜̝̬̬̭̝e̺̦̙̞c͔̖̕t̠̟͡i̫̪̗̞͝n̛̝g͍͕̥̭̭̻?͙ ̘̪̰̜̪͢A̲̠͖̜̱͞ ̟̙̘̼̱̣s͖͕̭h̛̩̩̭̩̬̺̦i̶ţ-͙͉͍͕̟̗̬s͔͜h̘͘o̟̙̺w̬̞̱͙?̜͓̦͖̟́ ̡͚̭Ỵ͓͉͢ͅo͕̹̮̟̬u̵̲͓̰̠͔͔̮ ͚̗͓͈̖̼̀w̸̭̹͔e͔͓̰̝͙̭r̯̥̗̻̣̯͜e͔̬ ̰̬̯̣̹͍̠n͕̺̼͈ͅo̵͇̣̟̳̰th̦̺̦̝̮̣͡i̭̠̰͍̺͡n͇͈g̟̣ͅ ̦͎͉̝́ͅt̠͍͕̺́h͏e̖̱̺n̜̘̦̤̟͈͍.̶̜ ̫͕̱̼̹̕Y̺̬̬̞͓̞o̟u͚͝'r͎e̖̠̮̠̳̺̜ ̵n̫͎̞͈o̥̣͖͠t͖̬͎̲͖̗̱h̡̪̲̬i̦͢n̥̙̼͞g͚̮̯ ͚͙n̗o͎̖̦̲͘w̮̯̠̗̲͔̫͠.̲͎̟ͅ ̻͕̻͉"
The younger me turned around in it's seat. Smiling that toothy, tiny crinos grin. One arm sitting calmly in it's lap. Eyes just looking of black lost pools that I had trouble looking away from.
"Y̟̟̼o̰̕u̞̲̬͍͇̩r̟̭͞ ͟m̧͉̠̞̹̖̗o̱̻̤͍̻̭͇t͈͍͇̼̞̳h̤̝̪̻̗̼̭͢e̮͎̺̭͠r͇͈͚̯̦̠͞ ̥̫w̘̗̤͓ͅa̫͎͙̣̞s̨̞ ̝̘̖̹͈̦ͅri͏̟̘g̞͠h̴t̩̝̳̝̩̮ ҉̦ͅṭ̙̪o̷̫͕͕͇̗̘̗ ̻̭͓̺̮̟̥j̢̪̱̤̬̯̘̜ṵ̮͍̟ş͍t͉̗͔̫̻͡ ̢͓͕̗̙l͍̟̹̞̱͎̬e͙̘̠̼a̙v̠̲͉͖͝e͉̞̼ͅ ̯̬̱͙̲͟y̳̪̬o̹u҉̘̜̪ ̢͚̤̥t͚̰̯h͍͉e͕͕͢ŗ̩̦͍̬͍̲e̫̹̪ ̺͕͓̲y͉̩̣͇͕͉o̠̠̘ͅu͔̗͢ ̯̱̠̞k͓̳̯̭̪n̟͕͔o͏͎̻̘͖̖w͠.͎̀ ̬̞ͅͅP̩r̙̭o̶d͓͈̗ͅu̜̹̖c̸͚̭̼̝e̖͍̹̳ o͇͈̦̻͙͓̗͜f̸͇͓̺͇̯͎ ̶̗s̤͇̬ͅp̧͎͈͍̝ͅoí͎̦͓͔̲̖̬l͉͍̲e҉͍̗̼ͅd͔̼̰̩̼̰ ͏̥̰͓̥̗͕̰l̮̣͙̭o̹͖͖i̳̭͜n̠̘̭s͍̫͍̤̮̣̣͞,̮̭̪̰͙͢ ̜W̩̩ó̖̦ṛ̶͉k̵̙̩͉͙͎̩̳e̦͇͇̖͉r̼̜̻ ̭̪̫̦̝̱̦o̠̦͇̯f̹ ̛̹͈D̠́a͎̳̦̻͢ṟ͍ḵ̛̣͖̦̘̬e̩͘ne̸̯d̤́ ̩̦̱͍̕h̼̜̮͙̖͢e͙̠͖̠̱̳a̦r͙̩͔̙̬t̲͓̥s̷̞̯.̗̭̖ ̘̼͔̱̠̤T̞͚͞h̙e̫̖̩ ̥̖t̠̠͇̣̟̖o҉̙̹̞̱i̕l̷ ̺͍̪͟ḁ̸̤͎̪̯͇n̪͟d҉̮̤̝̪͎͚̫ t҉̜̺͕͙̙͕r͔̺͓͉o̮̼̠̞͔̟̗u̵bl̗͖͇̱̜̪͘e̜͔ ́y̷̼̥̝o͚u҉͓̯͔̬̼̜ ͍̙̻̜ć̹̣̰͖̙h̢̩ų͔̖̩̩r̳͔̩̦n̢͚͓̪͕͖ ̞̳ṯ̻̫̱̹h͈̦̤͈̭̝͍ṟ̷̟̹̺o̖̜̬̠̪̤̗u͖̝̗̗͚̮͟ͅg̴̣̱̱͈̜h̠̳̖̀ ̥̙̣͈w͟i̜̟͍̣͖͙l͓̩̘̱͔l͎̗͎̱̺ ̙̠͝l͎͇͈̟͔̩̰e̳a͔̮͚̞̯̪͕͜ṿ̛e̤̫͚ ͖͖̻̩y̟̪̼o̳̭̻̺u͖̩͓ n͖̻o̵̻͖t̪̞̳ ̞̼͙̠̫̫̜bu͏̳̹͖̻̤̟ͅt̘͔͇̳͔ ̳͜a͇̭̩̠̲̘̳ ̻̫̟̩̳͍͍w͏̤͙͎̟̦̪i͏̰̮̖̥̫̤t͎̬̞h͠e͏̥ͅre̛̬̙d͚ ̟͉̘̫͖̕h̬̫̱u̠̤̮s̱̟̥̫͙͢k̵͉̝͔͓̮̹ ̲͚͓̞b͏̫̭͍y͉̪͞ ̩͓͕̙̗̪̤t͠h͜e̙͎̻̖̣ ̨̤̖͇ḙ̪̗͖͉n̼͇̫̺̘̗̪͜d̝̱.͔͎̞̮̝̜̹ ̛A͖̜͎͈͔͟ ͈̠̝̪̩̠su̡̯̖̟b̨̲̜t͏͚̱̲l̨̠̰̻e͏͔̘ ͇̦̮̝̘̼r̜̣̹̕ȩ̤̳mi̙̦̮̤̩ṋ̸d̨͚͇̜͖͎e͝r̯̟̖̣͉ ̖͈̗͍̣̝͘to̟ͅ ̩̜͇͎͕t̡̗̣̲̘̥h̦͘o̷̻̩̘̣ṣ́e̴ ͖͚w̝̺̘͉h̯͉̜̟̠̤͖͠o̻̠̣̗ ̳̪̘͝wo̠͝ul̸͚d͔ ̩̼̣̩dar̛e̺̟̗̠ ̷̻̲̟ͅt̙̼̳͚̻ry̮͍͙̥̱ͅ ̰t̗͖͓̰͉̞͕o̴̲͓̰̪ͅ ̷̲͚͇r̤̜͔̪̝͘ḛ̢̪̮̮ạ͉̭̤̖c̥̦̻͜h̺̯ ̩̝͔͚ț͎̲h̷̠̼r͖̠̥̖̣ͅo̟̙̥͚͖u̺̥g͇̰͕̪ͅh͚͈͙̳̫ ͏̣͖͈̪̥͖͚ṭ̺̖͈̤͡h͈̜e̴̝̪ͅ s͔̫̖̜h̡a̝ḍ̷͔̱̞͍ọ̢̟͕w̢è̺ͅd̞͎̗̣ ̴̮̹v̳̭͞e̸̮̰ì̫̫̯̘͉̤͇l̵͎̦ ̻͙͔̜̀o̢f̻͇̰̬͡ ̨̞͚̯͇t͔̗h͘e͎̝̬̕ ̠̠̥r̙̩̞̤e̯̠͙̖̝͉a̻̩̹̙̫̬̠͟l͡ ̼͓͓ẉ͕͢o̪̩͍͡rͅl̻̦̬̦͍̠̼͟d̟̰,̸ ̦̥͍̕t͉̰͖̤͙̪̣h̶̳̜̯̹̯a̡͉t̪̯̩̞̻̻̺ t̞͖̬͇h̹̱̰̰̤̪e͇̟͈͈ỳ̟̬̫̺͍ ̼̳̝̪̯c̟̤͇̺̻͟a̤̝̼̠ͅn̬̜̞͈̲̺̳'̤͠t ̹͔̼͍̟f̙͓̺i̖̭̟͕̣͓͝x̠̣͉ ͇͙̤͇͇̰͢w͍͙͖̲̗͚h̲̀at̪̮͉͕̯̪̰'̵̪͓̯̠͖͓̰s̪͇͈̺͓ͅ ̻̻̙f͉͎͙̻̫͕̙͞u̵͎͕̥̰̪͎̩c̮̦k̪̞̬͘i̗͓͕͍n͙̪͕̥͖̪̩g ͙̫͓̰͜b̷̮̖̻r͇͝o͖̻̹̞̥̼k̟͖̹̬̕e̷̬̣͈͖̫n͔͍͎͍͍͜.̵̺͈ ̲͓̰͇̟̯̪T̛h̺͙͚̥͉a͔̤͓̳t͏͚̭ ͉͞t̤̮̤͖͉̖̼h͍̟̭̖̻̟e҉y͖̞̺͎̭ ͈̹̰͙̙͡c͉̻̞͉̙̗͢a͉n҉'t̩ ͎͍j̸̟̩͕ư͇ş̥̲̪̭̥t̳͎͎̳̲̠̭ ̨͎wi̘̤̯͓͈s̮̱h t͈̙h̩͞in͡g͇͔s̳ ̖̪a̭̭̙̱̲̭w͇̭̟̳͖a̷͉̟̘͚̭y̙ ̨̞̮ẉ̩͉͖̙i̧̲̙̯̭̤̼t̼͕͇̥h̪̯̟͝ ͞h̺͕͟a̙̲̤̻r͇͙̟̥d̬̪ ͍͎̱ͅw̢̙̹̺̻̥͕ò̪̥̹r̼̜͕k͖̫͔͕͖͙ ̫̬͓́an̫d ̦̺̲͖̝̥͉p̦̺͉͎e̖͡r̢̳̦̰s̰̠̯͍̞̤̠i͡ș͚͕͖̪t͚̺̠͎e͖̘̣̹n̢̯̻c̭̯͟ḛ̰.̝̖̭ ̖̱̗̭̤͚͘"
I could Hardly understand it, I was astounded. A Jungled garble of shadowey whisp tones, Squarewave, Glitch-talk and Synth-voice, crawling from it's throat with the echoes of familial screams backed in a near silent choir behind it's voice.
"A͙̬̙͖̬̣͙ ̩̩w̶͖̩̜̬o̵m̢̬ạ͕͔̗̪͈͔n̤̜͇̘̬̝̺͞'̼̹s͏͖ ̧̭v̬̯̤o̯̻̯i̶̙̩̲͚͙c̼ͅe̤̙̤̣͓̜͢,͎͔̮͜ ̨̗̹̙͚Y̖̞̫o̟͖͙̱̙ụ̭'̻͎̪l͖̭̬̕ḽ̳̮̣̳͍͔ ̠͍̯̱̱̘̜q̺͖͙̬͠ͅui͏̜͙̯͙̙̼c̟͉̱k̬͍̳̤͘ḽ̷̝̬y͔ ̧̤̯r͚̼̠̙͔u̱̰̜͉̥͕͜n,̷̻̟̝͔̘͓͉ ͉̞͔̞̩̻In̶t͜o̸̦̥͔͇͍̯̠ ̗t̶̻͓̼̗ḥ̻̬̖̮e͈͕̠͇̘̣ ̥͉̮̮͉̹t̵̖̯̤͕̲r̦͉͓̥͚ee̤̣̜͚͙̥͙͜s͔̞͙̱͍̥̙ ̪̥̼̳w̶̹i͖̠͖̙̱͝t̻̪̖͖̪h̟ ̵̭̩͎̖̗̘e̟̫̗̘̞̮͘m̬̟̰p̫̭͉̹̲͈͜ͅty̰̳̦̰͇͜ h̷͕͍̠̖̫͎̬a̧̲̙̝̪̪̤n̶d͇͔̙͖͕͓ş͈.҉͖ ̷̤͚̝͖A̞ ̺̺̺s̱̤̻̖̱o̷̼u̥̼̼͇͜l̠̘̕ ̝i̯̗̲͎̖͎t̘͍̰̩̹̙̪ ̧͓̠̦̰w̹̦̪͍̮̲͉a͙̺ș̣̺, ̪͍̼̹͠ͅít̤͝ ̜̀s̵̥͇h͕̘̦͚̘̗ake̗̙̟͜s̻̀ ̺̲̬ͅa̝̮̠͕͓f͈̱̲̗r̶͍̻̠͈ạ̺͖̻̹i̲̟͎d͓̪̫̰̫̳,̧ ̶Y̯͎o̘ų̞̼̞̺̞̤'͏̠̥̰͕ḽ͇̟͟l͕̫̰ͅ ̜͉̬͠s͓̱̗p̢̪̞̪o̗̤͖̜ͅk̖e̛ ͍͔͍͇̣no̟̹̙̱̥͘ ͘w͙͖̥͍͖̱͘ord͇͙̝̣̣̳̖s̵̠̤̺,̫͖ ̩̙̻̘̲ͅn̵͎̙͖̙̬o̟̟͙̹̘̳ͅ ̼͓̱̟̯̹͢s̙̺͈̥̗̖͇o̰͍̟̙̱u̞̭n̥̜̭ͅd͈̠̭͓̺̘͜ ͘w̸͈̲̹͚̻̠ͅí̥̱̤͕l̨͕͖͎͔̟l̞̗̰̼͝ y̦o̸̹͍ự͕̬̘̳̰̭ ̦̟͇̖̣͔͚m̖͚̖̖̗̝̱͘a̡͖͈̦̺̺͚k̯͎̰̭̱̹͓ḛ.̢̠̝̥̜ ̪̩I̵̖̱̬̱͖t'̖̜̠͖̗s̥̠̟ ̟͍̣͍̤̩̫be̦̖͉͔̺̙͔͡i̺̺̳̳͇͖͟n̝̤̩̞̬̦g҉͉͍̙̙̬͔̠ ̷̠̬̟̟͚̗ͅe̮̙͖͍̙̬͟x̶͎p̷̦̰̺̟o̩se̢̪̹d͔̣̬͖,͕͚ͅ ̻͓͇͈͖̘i͍͎͈̻t͎̻̙'͉̘̬s̫͓͕̮̗̬̤ ͏̺̺̭̙̥̻s̠̪̺ͅo̢u̞͟l͠ ̺͚͎̤͙̺w̬a̗̫͉̜͍͓s̲̼͎ l͔̲̤̰̥͇̰̕a̪̣ṃ̸̥̪͚e͚̰,͈̠ ̣̲̘ą̠̘̰̥ͅn̳͍̲d ̭̗y̺͔̞̼͇̦ͅò͓̻̰̭̥̳u'͏̼̲̘̦͓͕l̹͎͕͈l̟̖͙̮̭͡ ̶̠͕̠̼r̻͇͍̻̤͘ą̲i̞͕͍̯̰s̷̹͇̼̜͎e̜̠͖̫͖̻ ͓̘̠a̮̘̲͎̣͈ ̼̫̫s̢̹̻̳͙̼t͏̥̳o͚̞n̞̫e͉̻̯̗ ̢̥j̹u͎̪̳̝ͅs̥̞ṯ̘̩̞̱͡ ̢̘̖̮t͖͕̲̪̗͘o͇ e͙̙͙̹͉͔n̟̮̬͍̳d͟ ̥͕͚̥͖͍͞i̡̮̣͓̝͉̞̞t̜̫̣̭̰̣͍'̵̞̲̫ś͓͓̟̞̣̙̪ ̻̦p̴̫͉̯a̧͉͖͍̗i̩̯̘̭̮̹̦n̪͕̩̜̘͞.̩̜͙̙̻̘ͅ ̰̮̺Ẉ̞͔͢h̘͈̪̟̗a̴̲̹̫̩ͅt̷̜͉̫ ̸̗̰̯ca̴u͈̩̬̜͞s̟̣̻̹e͚̖d̺̕ t͙̟̭̜̩h͔̘͓͙̯͞e̴͈̙̤̳͉̟ ͙̠̥̜͓̖͝ͅw̶̬̱͖o͔̟̩̦͞ͅù̦̣̪̟̩ͅn̥̳ḑ͔ ͔̭?̗̳̺̪͈̮͘ ̱̝̠̭̟̬H͙oẃ̟ ̗͍̝l͔̰̰͙̜͙̠a҉r̢̮͙̯̭̞ͅg̙̤̠̱̣͢e̶̝̺͎̩̰ ̭̪̦͚̙a̘͈͔̱̬̦r̭̝̥̞̰e̦̱͍̩̥̠ ̨̪͔̫̲̺͍t̨͓̭͖h͚̯͇̗̻e͖̣͙ͅ ̘̫̭̳̯̻t̟͘ȩ͙̗̭̰̰e͏t͚̭̺͕̼h̛̻̮̰̞͈ ͓̥̞̥͕̭̻?͍̻̹͍̫̱ ̡̘͉Y̦̹̣̺͎͙o͈̠̫̘̪̜̰u͠'͓̯l̺̘̪̘l̥͎̬̰̘͝ ̖͔͞se̲̹̯̥e̙͙ ̻̫̟̖͖͚͚n҉̟̣͖̩e̘͔̹͇̳̘͠ͅw͖̤̠̫̲̲̣ ̻͙̳̟ḙ͍͙̻̘͚y̹͎͚̞̬e̬s̘̬͔ ̯̻̮a̟̝̼̝r͏e̱̹̲ ̝̞̫̩͟w̟ͅá͙̘̺̯tc͏hį̣̘͇̝n̵̠̟̲g̪ ̻̦̤͙͙̤͜yǫ̺͍̙͖ͅu͘.̱̘̙̺ͅ ̡͎̣̯̱͚T̀h̞͙a̺̠̫̺͎͔̱͡t̲̥̼͉ ͙͖͇c̵r͇e̡͙͚̹̹̳̼a̮̖͎͕̝̟tu͔͉̥̤̤̥ͅr̩̩͕͖͔͙̙e̠̱̜͖͈̲̰ ̵̜w̪̪̭̹͈͍̼͡i̘̯͚̘͕͍l̶͚̩̙̮̭̹̫l̦͡ ̵͉̫l҉̫u̷͖̲̻͇̰̩ṇ̙̖̗͜g͔̪̩͈,̸ ̡Y̺͔̬̼̹̰o͙̞̲̝͓̭̲ư̲̺̭̟̬̯̰'͞l̲̲̫̖l̢͚̮̳̺ ҉̪ͅt̖̲u̶̠̺r̡̥̪̯̯ǹ̺͕̦̹̖̪̲ ̰ḁ̴͎͍̫̜͖̞n̛̮̝̣d̠̀ ̹̭͇͕͓̩r̠͙͕̬̯̬͟ͅṷ̗̞͚̞̤ͅ,̖͇͚͚͖n͈̫̬̜ ͏̱̝͖̥̯T̰͟o̯ ̟̫̙̩͓ş̤͇͕͔av̘̥̼ͅe̸̩͈̯̘̫̠̱ ̞̙̖t͎͇̻͉̥ͅh͍̘͓͚̬͚̕e̞͓̞̭̘ ̗̦͚̬̼͢ͅḽ͔̹̰̞͎i̷̝̫̩ͅf͓̲͚e҉̤ ̻̖̬̗̺͔͇y̹̦̣͡o̜u̼͚̟͕ ̛͖͍͈d̦̞͙̞̀i̮͙̖͓͍̪͍͟ḏ̙͚n̸̟͇͈̥̠̯̤'̡̻͖̼̳t̮̠̗̤̻̳͇ ̜̻̳͚̤h҉̙̖̠̺̘͎ḁv̨̩̯e.̸̫ ̢̬̳͉̘̫J̘̮̺͓̕u̦̩s̗̦̣͟t̷ ͚̼̪d̡͈͇̦̲ẹ̢̠̣e̟̥r̠̦̮̣͚̮͇,̖̣͇͓͉̮̤ ̶̗͖ịn̤͢ ̙̫̹̭̹͡t̥͓̜̕hẹ̟̻ c̴̩̼͓̜h̸̗̘̮̟̯a͜s̝̯͙̞ͅę͚̺͔̮,̛̳͍̖͍͔͙̤ ̤͝I͟ ̡̘̮̦͍̦͍ͅw̛̩a͎̦̘̝t͉́c̷̫͕̪͈͍h̵̰͖ ̸̫̮̝ͅa҉͈̯͈͎s͖ ͎͕̹̠͘y̼̜̣̣̻̳o͔̹̟̼͖ư͙̤̺͖ f͔͙̝͠l̼͕̬̟͞e̜̙̱w̳͘,̱̟͍ ̺̙t̡̹͚̖̰̻̩̮h̰͙̣̺̬e̖̘y̜̫͉͘'͖̮̝̬̬͕ll̨ ̷f̧͎̥̮o̳͔̻͙̥͝r̸̝̬̟g̹̤̬̯̺̣é̙͇̭̤̞̳t̜͉͠ ̯͚̘a̴̯͍͔̘̟͍̬l͏̟̙̮l͖͜ ̠̙̲̗̩p̜̘͇̗͈͈ͅr͈̪͔̱a̼̙̬̪͖y͏͖ę̻͖̪r͏̦̦̪s̠̘͇̺ ̡͖̼o̘̮͢f͔̞ ͠j̛̠̬̙̦o͕̮̕i̵̹̳̩͓͓n͙̟i̴̩̞̫͓n̯̣̗̼̮̯̥g̷͎̹̟ ̛̼y̶͚͇̝̘o̭̘̗̞̠͎̦ų̯̪ͅ. ̵̱̪̱̭ͅỴ̧o͠u̥̖͈̳͙͢'͙ll̜͘ ͇̲c͉̰̣l͇̺̝͉͉ͅu͕̮̺̯̬̠͙tc͇͝h̪̤̥͉ ͡h̸̗̱̰̞ͅe̷̙͖͖͖̮r҉͈̟̠ ̫̰̀li̡͍͚f̸͚͕͙͓ę̭̜,͇̙͇̣͇̠̲͘ ͚̝̣̹̙͕̻A͚̖̣͔̬ǹ̞d̺̱͉̙̫ ̶͓w͕͉͚̙͖͕i̩̬s̰̯̞̣̦h̟̤͠e̗͔̗̦̤d̘̬̟̠ ̘͙͕̪̩̼i̢̱̻̬͇̰͎͎t̴̻͓̯̺ ̲̲̙̖̣͝ͅk͘e̵p̺͇̻̻͢ț̹͙̼̤͝,̟̼̦ ͙̳̘̟B͕͚͔̝͚ͅu̷t͍̣̰̹ ̫̤̘̣͘M̥̯̼y̬̪͚͚ ̕d̻͎ḛ͘a̰̮͖ͅr̜̣̜e̟̮͖̯̖̜śt̥͚͎̪̤̱͉ ̻̤̝̞͞l͟ov̜͍̙̺͙ę̤̜͓,͈͈̘ ͚͚̯͝w͏̣̩̤̥͕̝è̪̟̱̳ͅ ̧̭͖͍̙ẁ͓̫͈͖̘ọ͝n̹t̷͖̱͈̦ ͚͇̥̟̯͞ Be̶ ͙̰͍͠ḍ̝̭̲o̻̰n̹̭͖ḛ͕̩͚ y̨̪̠e̬̠̞͇̫͍͟t.̨̗̩̥̜̟̘"̨̙͖͈
̦̹̕ͅ
It just sat and smiled. I stood in fear for a while yet....just staring at it and the room. The Bonegnawer, and the hyena just stood, and asked questions. I answered plainly, boredly. Without expression...until I snapped out of it, and the beast....my younger self. Was just sitting at it's computer. It had never spoken to me, right?
We figured for now, it would be best to leave...and so we traveled home.
I do not like the dreaming. It is a silly place. If we go back. I'm just going to treat it like any other exploration. I'll take my knowledge, and the reality of my actions, and I'll fucking make them known. Even if I have to tear the realm itself in half to find what we're looking for. I don't think these two know what they've started.
//End of Line//
Accessing......
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Z:\Users\Project88\R-A-M.exe\Run
Media State . . . . . . . . . : Media Connected
Connection-specific DNS Suffix . . : 198.088.1.14
Wireless LAN Cerebral Adapter Network Assimilation:
Connection IPv6 . . . . . . . : Fe80: :f8f8:bb96:7a63:26b5%5
IPv4 Adress . . . . . . . . . : 192.168.1.15
Subnet Mask . . . . . . . : 255.255.255.0
Default Gateway . . . . . . . : 192.168.1.1
Rendering-Export.....
3...........
2.......
1...
There it was. The cubicle. A testament to: growth potential, Controlled isolation, and survival. Nothing taught me better how to avoid people, or how to make sure I knew what I was doing like the cubicle. There I was though, in some sort of mind-ception-esque Kevorkian torture, I was just staring at myself. Led here by some bullshit about heart light, Through the world tree, by fairy squirrels, Via the shiniest Bone-gnawer I've ever seen in my life. Accompanied by his Hyena Cohort, I was a lot a loss for words.
I just stood there. Silent. The world inside this cubicle always seemed so large. The studio style apartment I called home till I became a cleoth. One handed typing at the computer, spending endless hours chatting and traversing the G.Walker-net. My old Screen-name comes up the most often: 88Talons, obviously. I wanted people to be sure I was going to sink my claw into everything I could get ahold of. Also I had arm and hand envy.
I was small, meek. I didn't have much exercise, cept for when the physical instructor would come in every once in a while, bringing a few weights or rolling in the treadmill. I kinda liked those times, It was exciting to get used to these things, know that I was prepping myself for the outside world. The missing arm though, it always held me back. I would look at my right, and be thankful I still had it. That I was right handed was coincidence, or by practice, I'll never really know.
Standing at the door, I could only think As I watched my younger self fiddling away at the computer. "You've got so much ahead of you. So much you don't even know. Mom's face, Your whole disgrace with the sellout to the spirits just to get what you need to get by at the skin of your elbows. You wont even know for ages, or...what seems like ages. Can you understand that? Can you even comprehend the work you're about to do? What I'm doing right now? Though...that begs the question.....If I knew then what I know now, would I have gone through with it? Or given up and just become another statistic in the war against the Great Entropy that is the Wyrm? We'll know...in time...Now how the fuck do we leave?"
I gazed around, but the world around here was so...basic. Just the room itself, and nothing else. Outside this was oblivion. This singular memory, isolated, a window into the past. Things that I'd rather not have people ever see. Know my full roots, where I'm going. I trust very few with these things, and if they ever leaked it, I'd fucking clench their throats shut.
"W͔̥̞̲ha̠t̰͎̥̖̣͇̩͝ ̵̠̹w̼e͎̫͚̘r̴e͏͎͇ ̟̺y̬o̞͙u e͉̲̦̬͉̺̖x̛̩͚̭̱p̡̜̝̬̬̭̝e̺̦̙̞c͔̖̕t̠̟͡i̫̪̗̞͝n̛̝g͍͕̥̭̭̻?͙ ̘̪̰̜̪͢A̲̠͖̜̱͞ ̟̙̘̼̱̣s͖͕̭h̛̩̩̭̩̬̺̦i̶ţ-͙͉͍͕̟̗̬s͔͜h̘͘o̟̙̺w̬̞̱͙?̜͓̦͖̟́ ̡͚̭Ỵ͓͉͢ͅo͕̹̮̟̬u̵̲͓̰̠͔͔̮ ͚̗͓͈̖̼̀w̸̭̹͔e͔͓̰̝͙̭r̯̥̗̻̣̯͜e͔̬ ̰̬̯̣̹͍̠n͕̺̼͈ͅo̵͇̣̟̳̰th̦̺̦̝̮̣͡i̭̠̰͍̺͡n͇͈g̟̣ͅ ̦͎͉̝́ͅt̠͍͕̺́h͏e̖̱̺n̜̘̦̤̟͈͍.̶̜ ̫͕̱̼̹̕Y̺̬̬̞͓̞o̟u͚͝'r͎e̖̠̮̠̳̺̜ ̵n̫͎̞͈o̥̣͖͠t͖̬͎̲͖̗̱h̡̪̲̬i̦͢n̥̙̼͞g͚̮̯ ͚͙n̗o͎̖̦̲͘w̮̯̠̗̲͔̫͠.̲͎̟ͅ ̻͕̻͉"
The younger me turned around in it's seat. Smiling that toothy, tiny crinos grin. One arm sitting calmly in it's lap. Eyes just looking of black lost pools that I had trouble looking away from.
"Y̟̟̼o̰̕u̞̲̬͍͇̩r̟̭͞ ͟m̧͉̠̞̹̖̗o̱̻̤͍̻̭͇t͈͍͇̼̞̳h̤̝̪̻̗̼̭͢e̮͎̺̭͠r͇͈͚̯̦̠͞ ̥̫w̘̗̤͓ͅa̫͎͙̣̞s̨̞ ̝̘̖̹͈̦ͅri͏̟̘g̞͠h̴t̩̝̳̝̩̮ ҉̦ͅṭ̙̪o̷̫͕͕͇̗̘̗ ̻̭͓̺̮̟̥j̢̪̱̤̬̯̘̜ṵ̮͍̟ş͍t͉̗͔̫̻͡ ̢͓͕̗̙l͍̟̹̞̱͎̬e͙̘̠̼a̙v̠̲͉͖͝e͉̞̼ͅ ̯̬̱͙̲͟y̳̪̬o̹u҉̘̜̪ ̢͚̤̥t͚̰̯h͍͉e͕͕͢ŗ̩̦͍̬͍̲e̫̹̪ ̺͕͓̲y͉̩̣͇͕͉o̠̠̘ͅu͔̗͢ ̯̱̠̞k͓̳̯̭̪n̟͕͔o͏͎̻̘͖̖w͠.͎̀ ̬̞ͅͅP̩r̙̭o̶d͓͈̗ͅu̜̹̖c̸͚̭̼̝e̖͍̹̳ o͇͈̦̻͙͓̗͜f̸͇͓̺͇̯͎ ̶̗s̤͇̬ͅp̧͎͈͍̝ͅoí͎̦͓͔̲̖̬l͉͍̲e҉͍̗̼ͅd͔̼̰̩̼̰ ͏̥̰͓̥̗͕̰l̮̣͙̭o̹͖͖i̳̭͜n̠̘̭s͍̫͍̤̮̣̣͞,̮̭̪̰͙͢ ̜W̩̩ó̖̦ṛ̶͉k̵̙̩͉͙͎̩̳e̦͇͇̖͉r̼̜̻ ̭̪̫̦̝̱̦o̠̦͇̯f̹ ̛̹͈D̠́a͎̳̦̻͢ṟ͍ḵ̛̣͖̦̘̬e̩͘ne̸̯d̤́ ̩̦̱͍̕h̼̜̮͙̖͢e͙̠͖̠̱̳a̦r͙̩͔̙̬t̲͓̥s̷̞̯.̗̭̖ ̘̼͔̱̠̤T̞͚͞h̙e̫̖̩ ̥̖t̠̠͇̣̟̖o҉̙̹̞̱i̕l̷ ̺͍̪͟ḁ̸̤͎̪̯͇n̪͟d҉̮̤̝̪͎͚̫ t҉̜̺͕͙̙͕r͔̺͓͉o̮̼̠̞͔̟̗u̵bl̗͖͇̱̜̪͘e̜͔ ́y̷̼̥̝o͚u҉͓̯͔̬̼̜ ͍̙̻̜ć̹̣̰͖̙h̢̩ų͔̖̩̩r̳͔̩̦n̢͚͓̪͕͖ ̞̳ṯ̻̫̱̹h͈̦̤͈̭̝͍ṟ̷̟̹̺o̖̜̬̠̪̤̗u͖̝̗̗͚̮͟ͅg̴̣̱̱͈̜h̠̳̖̀ ̥̙̣͈w͟i̜̟͍̣͖͙l͓̩̘̱͔l͎̗͎̱̺ ̙̠͝l͎͇͈̟͔̩̰e̳a͔̮͚̞̯̪͕͜ṿ̛e̤̫͚ ͖͖̻̩y̟̪̼o̳̭̻̺u͖̩͓ n͖̻o̵̻͖t̪̞̳ ̞̼͙̠̫̫̜bu͏̳̹͖̻̤̟ͅt̘͔͇̳͔ ̳͜a͇̭̩̠̲̘̳ ̻̫̟̩̳͍͍w͏̤͙͎̟̦̪i͏̰̮̖̥̫̤t͎̬̞h͠e͏̥ͅre̛̬̙d͚ ̟͉̘̫͖̕h̬̫̱u̠̤̮s̱̟̥̫͙͢k̵͉̝͔͓̮̹ ̲͚͓̞b͏̫̭͍y͉̪͞ ̩͓͕̙̗̪̤t͠h͜e̙͎̻̖̣ ̨̤̖͇ḙ̪̗͖͉n̼͇̫̺̘̗̪͜d̝̱.͔͎̞̮̝̜̹ ̛A͖̜͎͈͔͟ ͈̠̝̪̩̠su̡̯̖̟b̨̲̜t͏͚̱̲l̨̠̰̻e͏͔̘ ͇̦̮̝̘̼r̜̣̹̕ȩ̤̳mi̙̦̮̤̩ṋ̸d̨͚͇̜͖͎e͝r̯̟̖̣͉ ̖͈̗͍̣̝͘to̟ͅ ̩̜͇͎͕t̡̗̣̲̘̥h̦͘o̷̻̩̘̣ṣ́e̴ ͖͚w̝̺̘͉h̯͉̜̟̠̤͖͠o̻̠̣̗ ̳̪̘͝wo̠͝ul̸͚d͔ ̩̼̣̩dar̛e̺̟̗̠ ̷̻̲̟ͅt̙̼̳͚̻ry̮͍͙̥̱ͅ ̰t̗͖͓̰͉̞͕o̴̲͓̰̪ͅ ̷̲͚͇r̤̜͔̪̝͘ḛ̢̪̮̮ạ͉̭̤̖c̥̦̻͜h̺̯ ̩̝͔͚ț͎̲h̷̠̼r͖̠̥̖̣ͅo̟̙̥͚͖u̺̥g͇̰͕̪ͅh͚͈͙̳̫ ͏̣͖͈̪̥͖͚ṭ̺̖͈̤͡h͈̜e̴̝̪ͅ s͔̫̖̜h̡a̝ḍ̷͔̱̞͍ọ̢̟͕w̢è̺ͅd̞͎̗̣ ̴̮̹v̳̭͞e̸̮̰ì̫̫̯̘͉̤͇l̵͎̦ ̻͙͔̜̀o̢f̻͇̰̬͡ ̨̞͚̯͇t͔̗h͘e͎̝̬̕ ̠̠̥r̙̩̞̤e̯̠͙̖̝͉a̻̩̹̙̫̬̠͟l͡ ̼͓͓ẉ͕͢o̪̩͍͡rͅl̻̦̬̦͍̠̼͟d̟̰,̸ ̦̥͍̕t͉̰͖̤͙̪̣h̶̳̜̯̹̯a̡͉t̪̯̩̞̻̻̺ t̞͖̬͇h̹̱̰̰̤̪e͇̟͈͈ỳ̟̬̫̺͍ ̼̳̝̪̯c̟̤͇̺̻͟a̤̝̼̠ͅn̬̜̞͈̲̺̳'̤͠t ̹͔̼͍̟f̙͓̺i̖̭̟͕̣͓͝x̠̣͉ ͇͙̤͇͇̰͢w͍͙͖̲̗͚h̲̀at̪̮͉͕̯̪̰'̵̪͓̯̠͖͓̰s̪͇͈̺͓ͅ ̻̻̙f͉͎͙̻̫͕̙͞u̵͎͕̥̰̪͎̩c̮̦k̪̞̬͘i̗͓͕͍n͙̪͕̥͖̪̩g ͙̫͓̰͜b̷̮̖̻r͇͝o͖̻̹̞̥̼k̟͖̹̬̕e̷̬̣͈͖̫n͔͍͎͍͍͜.̵̺͈ ̲͓̰͇̟̯̪T̛h̺͙͚̥͉a͔̤͓̳t͏͚̭ ͉͞t̤̮̤͖͉̖̼h͍̟̭̖̻̟e҉y͖̞̺͎̭ ͈̹̰͙̙͡c͉̻̞͉̙̗͢a͉n҉'t̩ ͎͍j̸̟̩͕ư͇ş̥̲̪̭̥t̳͎͎̳̲̠̭ ̨͎wi̘̤̯͓͈s̮̱h t͈̙h̩͞in͡g͇͔s̳ ̖̪a̭̭̙̱̲̭w͇̭̟̳͖a̷͉̟̘͚̭y̙ ̨̞̮ẉ̩͉͖̙i̧̲̙̯̭̤̼t̼͕͇̥h̪̯̟͝ ͞h̺͕͟a̙̲̤̻r͇͙̟̥d̬̪ ͍͎̱ͅw̢̙̹̺̻̥͕ò̪̥̹r̼̜͕k͖̫͔͕͖͙ ̫̬͓́an̫d ̦̺̲͖̝̥͉p̦̺͉͎e̖͡r̢̳̦̰s̰̠̯͍̞̤̠i͡ș͚͕͖̪t͚̺̠͎e͖̘̣̹n̢̯̻c̭̯͟ḛ̰.̝̖̭ ̖̱̗̭̤͚͘"
I could Hardly understand it, I was astounded. A Jungled garble of shadowey whisp tones, Squarewave, Glitch-talk and Synth-voice, crawling from it's throat with the echoes of familial screams backed in a near silent choir behind it's voice.
"A͙̬̙͖̬̣͙ ̩̩w̶͖̩̜̬o̵m̢̬ạ͕͔̗̪͈͔n̤̜͇̘̬̝̺͞'̼̹s͏͖ ̧̭v̬̯̤o̯̻̯i̶̙̩̲͚͙c̼ͅe̤̙̤̣͓̜͢,͎͔̮͜ ̨̗̹̙͚Y̖̞̫o̟͖͙̱̙ụ̭'̻͎̪l͖̭̬̕ḽ̳̮̣̳͍͔ ̠͍̯̱̱̘̜q̺͖͙̬͠ͅui͏̜͙̯͙̙̼c̟͉̱k̬͍̳̤͘ḽ̷̝̬y͔ ̧̤̯r͚̼̠̙͔u̱̰̜͉̥͕͜n,̷̻̟̝͔̘͓͉ ͉̞͔̞̩̻In̶t͜o̸̦̥͔͇͍̯̠ ̗t̶̻͓̼̗ḥ̻̬̖̮e͈͕̠͇̘̣ ̥͉̮̮͉̹t̵̖̯̤͕̲r̦͉͓̥͚ee̤̣̜͚͙̥͙͜s͔̞͙̱͍̥̙ ̪̥̼̳w̶̹i͖̠͖̙̱͝t̻̪̖͖̪h̟ ̵̭̩͎̖̗̘e̟̫̗̘̞̮͘m̬̟̰p̫̭͉̹̲͈͜ͅty̰̳̦̰͇͜ h̷͕͍̠̖̫͎̬a̧̲̙̝̪̪̤n̶d͇͔̙͖͕͓ş͈.҉͖ ̷̤͚̝͖A̞ ̺̺̺s̱̤̻̖̱o̷̼u̥̼̼͇͜l̠̘̕ ̝i̯̗̲͎̖͎t̘͍̰̩̹̙̪ ̧͓̠̦̰w̹̦̪͍̮̲͉a͙̺ș̣̺, ̪͍̼̹͠ͅít̤͝ ̜̀s̵̥͇h͕̘̦͚̘̗ake̗̙̟͜s̻̀ ̺̲̬ͅa̝̮̠͕͓f͈̱̲̗r̶͍̻̠͈ạ̺͖̻̹i̲̟͎d͓̪̫̰̫̳,̧ ̶Y̯͎o̘ų̞̼̞̺̞̤'͏̠̥̰͕ḽ͇̟͟l͕̫̰ͅ ̜͉̬͠s͓̱̗p̢̪̞̪o̗̤͖̜ͅk̖e̛ ͍͔͍͇̣no̟̹̙̱̥͘ ͘w͙͖̥͍͖̱͘ord͇͙̝̣̣̳̖s̵̠̤̺,̫͖ ̩̙̻̘̲ͅn̵͎̙͖̙̬o̟̟͙̹̘̳ͅ ̼͓̱̟̯̹͢s̙̺͈̥̗̖͇o̰͍̟̙̱u̞̭n̥̜̭ͅd͈̠̭͓̺̘͜ ͘w̸͈̲̹͚̻̠ͅí̥̱̤͕l̨͕͖͎͔̟l̞̗̰̼͝ y̦o̸̹͍ự͕̬̘̳̰̭ ̦̟͇̖̣͔͚m̖͚̖̖̗̝̱͘a̡͖͈̦̺̺͚k̯͎̰̭̱̹͓ḛ.̢̠̝̥̜ ̪̩I̵̖̱̬̱͖t'̖̜̠͖̗s̥̠̟ ̟͍̣͍̤̩̫be̦̖͉͔̺̙͔͡i̺̺̳̳͇͖͟n̝̤̩̞̬̦g҉͉͍̙̙̬͔̠ ̷̠̬̟̟͚̗ͅe̮̙͖͍̙̬͟x̶͎p̷̦̰̺̟o̩se̢̪̹d͔̣̬͖,͕͚ͅ ̻͓͇͈͖̘i͍͎͈̻t͎̻̙'͉̘̬s̫͓͕̮̗̬̤ ͏̺̺̭̙̥̻s̠̪̺ͅo̢u̞͟l͠ ̺͚͎̤͙̺w̬a̗̫͉̜͍͓s̲̼͎ l͔̲̤̰̥͇̰̕a̪̣ṃ̸̥̪͚e͚̰,͈̠ ̣̲̘ą̠̘̰̥ͅn̳͍̲d ̭̗y̺͔̞̼͇̦ͅò͓̻̰̭̥̳u'͏̼̲̘̦͓͕l̹͎͕͈l̟̖͙̮̭͡ ̶̠͕̠̼r̻͇͍̻̤͘ą̲i̞͕͍̯̰s̷̹͇̼̜͎e̜̠͖̫͖̻ ͓̘̠a̮̘̲͎̣͈ ̼̫̫s̢̹̻̳͙̼t͏̥̳o͚̞n̞̫e͉̻̯̗ ̢̥j̹u͎̪̳̝ͅs̥̞ṯ̘̩̞̱͡ ̢̘̖̮t͖͕̲̪̗͘o͇ e͙̙͙̹͉͔n̟̮̬͍̳d͟ ̥͕͚̥͖͍͞i̡̮̣͓̝͉̞̞t̜̫̣̭̰̣͍'̵̞̲̫ś͓͓̟̞̣̙̪ ̻̦p̴̫͉̯a̧͉͖͍̗i̩̯̘̭̮̹̦n̪͕̩̜̘͞.̩̜͙̙̻̘ͅ ̰̮̺Ẉ̞͔͢h̘͈̪̟̗a̴̲̹̫̩ͅt̷̜͉̫ ̸̗̰̯ca̴u͈̩̬̜͞s̟̣̻̹e͚̖d̺̕ t͙̟̭̜̩h͔̘͓͙̯͞e̴͈̙̤̳͉̟ ͙̠̥̜͓̖͝ͅw̶̬̱͖o͔̟̩̦͞ͅù̦̣̪̟̩ͅn̥̳ḑ͔ ͔̭?̗̳̺̪͈̮͘ ̱̝̠̭̟̬H͙oẃ̟ ̗͍̝l͔̰̰͙̜͙̠a҉r̢̮͙̯̭̞ͅg̙̤̠̱̣͢e̶̝̺͎̩̰ ̭̪̦͚̙a̘͈͔̱̬̦r̭̝̥̞̰e̦̱͍̩̥̠ ̨̪͔̫̲̺͍t̨͓̭͖h͚̯͇̗̻e͖̣͙ͅ ̘̫̭̳̯̻t̟͘ȩ͙̗̭̰̰e͏t͚̭̺͕̼h̛̻̮̰̞͈ ͓̥̞̥͕̭̻?͍̻̹͍̫̱ ̡̘͉Y̦̹̣̺͎͙o͈̠̫̘̪̜̰u͠'͓̯l̺̘̪̘l̥͎̬̰̘͝ ̖͔͞se̲̹̯̥e̙͙ ̻̫̟̖͖͚͚n҉̟̣͖̩e̘͔̹͇̳̘͠ͅw͖̤̠̫̲̲̣ ̻͙̳̟ḙ͍͙̻̘͚y̹͎͚̞̬e̬s̘̬͔ ̯̻̮a̟̝̼̝r͏e̱̹̲ ̝̞̫̩͟w̟ͅá͙̘̺̯tc͏hį̣̘͇̝n̵̠̟̲g̪ ̻̦̤͙͙̤͜yǫ̺͍̙͖ͅu͘.̱̘̙̺ͅ ̡͎̣̯̱͚T̀h̞͙a̺̠̫̺͎͔̱͡t̲̥̼͉ ͙͖͇c̵r͇e̡͙͚̹̹̳̼a̮̖͎͕̝̟tu͔͉̥̤̤̥ͅr̩̩͕͖͔͙̙e̠̱̜͖͈̲̰ ̵̜w̪̪̭̹͈͍̼͡i̘̯͚̘͕͍l̶͚̩̙̮̭̹̫l̦͡ ̵͉̫l҉̫u̷͖̲̻͇̰̩ṇ̙̖̗͜g͔̪̩͈,̸ ̡Y̺͔̬̼̹̰o͙̞̲̝͓̭̲ư̲̺̭̟̬̯̰'͞l̲̲̫̖l̢͚̮̳̺ ҉̪ͅt̖̲u̶̠̺r̡̥̪̯̯ǹ̺͕̦̹̖̪̲ ̰ḁ̴͎͍̫̜͖̞n̛̮̝̣d̠̀ ̹̭͇͕͓̩r̠͙͕̬̯̬͟ͅṷ̗̞͚̞̤ͅ,̖͇͚͚͖n͈̫̬̜ ͏̱̝͖̥̯T̰͟o̯ ̟̫̙̩͓ş̤͇͕͔av̘̥̼ͅe̸̩͈̯̘̫̠̱ ̞̙̖t͎͇̻͉̥ͅh͍̘͓͚̬͚̕e̞͓̞̭̘ ̗̦͚̬̼͢ͅḽ͔̹̰̞͎i̷̝̫̩ͅf͓̲͚e҉̤ ̻̖̬̗̺͔͇y̹̦̣͡o̜u̼͚̟͕ ̛͖͍͈d̦̞͙̞̀i̮͙̖͓͍̪͍͟ḏ̙͚n̸̟͇͈̥̠̯̤'̡̻͖̼̳t̮̠̗̤̻̳͇ ̜̻̳͚̤h҉̙̖̠̺̘͎ḁv̨̩̯e.̸̫ ̢̬̳͉̘̫J̘̮̺͓̕u̦̩s̗̦̣͟t̷ ͚̼̪d̡͈͇̦̲ẹ̢̠̣e̟̥r̠̦̮̣͚̮͇,̖̣͇͓͉̮̤ ̶̗͖ịn̤͢ ̙̫̹̭̹͡t̥͓̜̕hẹ̟̻ c̴̩̼͓̜h̸̗̘̮̟̯a͜s̝̯͙̞ͅę͚̺͔̮,̛̳͍̖͍͔͙̤ ̤͝I͟ ̡̘̮̦͍̦͍ͅw̛̩a͎̦̘̝t͉́c̷̫͕̪͈͍h̵̰͖ ̸̫̮̝ͅa҉͈̯͈͎s͖ ͎͕̹̠͘y̼̜̣̣̻̳o͔̹̟̼͖ư͙̤̺͖ f͔͙̝͠l̼͕̬̟͞e̜̙̱w̳͘,̱̟͍ ̺̙t̡̹͚̖̰̻̩̮h̰͙̣̺̬e̖̘y̜̫͉͘'͖̮̝̬̬͕ll̨ ̷f̧͎̥̮o̳͔̻͙̥͝r̸̝̬̟g̹̤̬̯̺̣é̙͇̭̤̞̳t̜͉͠ ̯͚̘a̴̯͍͔̘̟͍̬l͏̟̙̮l͖͜ ̠̙̲̗̩p̜̘͇̗͈͈ͅr͈̪͔̱a̼̙̬̪͖y͏͖ę̻͖̪r͏̦̦̪s̠̘͇̺ ̡͖̼o̘̮͢f͔̞ ͠j̛̠̬̙̦o͕̮̕i̵̹̳̩͓͓n͙̟i̴̩̞̫͓n̯̣̗̼̮̯̥g̷͎̹̟ ̛̼y̶͚͇̝̘o̭̘̗̞̠͎̦ų̯̪ͅ. ̵̱̪̱̭ͅỴ̧o͠u̥̖͈̳͙͢'͙ll̜͘ ͇̲c͉̰̣l͇̺̝͉͉ͅu͕̮̺̯̬̠͙tc͇͝h̪̤̥͉ ͡h̸̗̱̰̞ͅe̷̙͖͖͖̮r҉͈̟̠ ̫̰̀li̡͍͚f̸͚͕͙͓ę̭̜,͇̙͇̣͇̠̲͘ ͚̝̣̹̙͕̻A͚̖̣͔̬ǹ̞d̺̱͉̙̫ ̶͓w͕͉͚̙͖͕i̩̬s̰̯̞̣̦h̟̤͠e̗͔̗̦̤d̘̬̟̠ ̘͙͕̪̩̼i̢̱̻̬͇̰͎͎t̴̻͓̯̺ ̲̲̙̖̣͝ͅk͘e̵p̺͇̻̻͢ț̹͙̼̤͝,̟̼̦ ͙̳̘̟B͕͚͔̝͚ͅu̷t͍̣̰̹ ̫̤̘̣͘M̥̯̼y̬̪͚͚ ̕d̻͎ḛ͘a̰̮͖ͅr̜̣̜e̟̮͖̯̖̜śt̥͚͎̪̤̱͉ ̻̤̝̞͞l͟ov̜͍̙̺͙ę̤̜͓,͈͈̘ ͚͚̯͝w͏̣̩̤̥͕̝è̪̟̱̳ͅ ̧̭͖͍̙ẁ͓̫͈͖̘ọ͝n̹t̷͖̱͈̦ ͚͇̥̟̯͞ Be̶ ͙̰͍͠ḍ̝̭̲o̻̰n̹̭͖ḛ͕̩͚ y̨̪̠e̬̠̞͇̫͍͟t.̨̗̩̥̜̟̘"̨̙͖͈
̦̹̕ͅ
It just sat and smiled. I stood in fear for a while yet....just staring at it and the room. The Bonegnawer, and the hyena just stood, and asked questions. I answered plainly, boredly. Without expression...until I snapped out of it, and the beast....my younger self. Was just sitting at it's computer. It had never spoken to me, right?
We figured for now, it would be best to leave...and so we traveled home.
I do not like the dreaming. It is a silly place. If we go back. I'm just going to treat it like any other exploration. I'll take my knowledge, and the reality of my actions, and I'll fucking make them known. Even if I have to tear the realm itself in half to find what we're looking for. I don't think these two know what they've started.
//End of Line//