I suppose you do have some things to sort out. [...] I know I fucking hate being asked this, because, well, how the hells do you even answer it, but, are you alright?
Yes, well. I know that feeling a little too intimately at this point.
[He reaches up to toy with one of the little pieces of jewelry hanging from his horns for a moment - a little silver moon trinket. And then puts his hand down.]
I won't say I-- He did drill holes in people's heads. So.
This faint red glow begins to warm in front of you, like a tiny tinder flash that begins to burn into a bright flame. Until there before you, you see a massive glowing red eye that just peers into you, inspecting you, piercing you, looking around, to you, within you. No words, no language. You immediately feel this sense of fear and odd desperation, but it begins to subtly pull away as you feel it connect to you. Like a single thought enters your mind, the light seems to swarm and fill your space. And all it says is-- without language, but feeling, emotion.
And you hear this faint sound. This humming, like thousands of bees buzzing and as you listen, you begin to see scratches, shapes, spinning fractals that the mind can barely comprehend, flashes of the pages that you had looked at in that tome. (That tome?) And it's not buzzing; they're voices. They're screams. Hundreds, thousands of them, just faintly out of view.
"Welcome."
The eye closes.
None of this makes sense. Your mind struggles and you fail, leaving you cold, empty.
You feel as if you shouldn’t have seen this. You feel as if you needed to see this.
What are you doing here?
Help them. Keep reading. Marks and marks on the page, the scrawl of someone trying to copy a dream (nightmare) into language, frenzied and
You look at the back of your hand - the scars down your arms, the lavender skin, familiar - but the red eye upon the back. Well.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
W2 - SUNDAY
So. How's Envy taking all of this, then?
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Oh...I don't know. [And a pause.] I haven't reached out to him, yet.
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[A little awkward now. Envies are you all okay.]
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[Look, sometimes the whole Envy team suffers and nobody thinks of going to actual Envy.]
I will reach out to him later, when I've sorted some things out.
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[That's fine, that's a mood.]
I suppose you do have some things to sort out. [...] I know I fucking hate being asked this, because, well, how the hells do you even answer it, but, are you alright?
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[And a nod, but that question...Douman lets out a laugh without feeling.]
You know? I'm not sure of the answer.
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[He reaches up to toy with one of the little pieces of jewelry hanging from his horns for a moment - a little silver moon trinket. And then puts his hand down.]
I won't say I-- He did drill holes in people's heads. So.
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[A shake of the head - the bells of their hair jingle.]
I can't say many are sad that he's gone.
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[...but.]
I guess that it made sense at the time. That's why I hate these fucking trials. Just. Endless shit and then we can't put it together.
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[And a sigh.]
Yes. It does seem like all we accomplish is running around in circles. Serves no one any purpose except for some terrible entertainment, I suppose.
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This faint red glow begins to warm in front of you, like a tiny tinder flash that begins to burn into a bright flame. Until there before you, you see a massive glowing red eye that just peers into you, inspecting you, piercing you, looking around, to you, within you. No words, no language. You immediately feel this sense of fear and odd desperation, but it begins to subtly pull away as you feel it connect to you. Like a single thought enters your mind, the light seems to swarm and fill your space. And all it says is-- without language, but feeling, emotion.
"Welcome." "Welcome." "Welcome."
"Welcome." "Welcome." "Welcome."
"Welcome." "Welcome."
And you hear this faint sound. This humming, like thousands of bees buzzing and as you listen, you begin to see scratches, shapes, spinning fractals that the mind can barely comprehend, flashes of the pages that you had looked at in that tome. (That tome?) And it's not buzzing; they're voices. They're screams. Hundreds, thousands of them, just faintly out of view.
"Welcome."
The eye closes.
None of this makes sense. Your mind struggles and you fail, leaving you cold, empty.
You feel as if you shouldn’t have seen this. You feel as if you needed to see this.
What are you doing here?
Help them. Keep reading. Marks and marks on the page, the scrawl of someone trying to copy a dream (nightmare) into language, frenzied and
You look at the back of your hand - the scars down your arms, the lavender skin, familiar - but the red eye upon the back. Well.
That’s new.
It ends.]