Lost Cloud

Tue Feb 16, 2016 11:13 am

Iriko Crow

The Dragon of the North, Seiryuu

"...It really doesn't matter any longer where I stand, does it?"

The brown haired man asked the expanse before him, his arms crossed behind his back. Why am I still alive? What is my... purpose...? He wondered to himself, his eyes continuing to search through the Abyss. All around him, flashes of gold began to spark. These sparks had increased in volume ever since he had lost his Zanpakutō. ...Bubbles... They're so ephermeral... but as soon as they are wounded, they pop. What am I thinking about? That's the way it's always been, hasn't it...?

Slowly, he turned once again, holding up his right arm. It was whole, once again. Skin and flesh wrapped around it. But Iriko could not help... but feel he had lost something important. "Writer's block... How evil." Iriko said aloud, before his face turned the castle behind him once again. ...This chain... While there was truly no chain, before Iriko's eyes it appeared that there was a large chain, from the very top of this castle that extended all the way to his neck. "But who put this chain here, I wonder...?" He spoke aloud, his peculiar eyes looking along the length of his chain.

"The inability to create... there truly is nothing worse then that. Nothing at all, in this world." Iriko spoke, before turning to his side, looking at the space around him.

"Do you agree, Demonic Goddess?"

Core Elements Devised by Aivee

Sun Feb 21, 2016 9:35 am

[PLAY THE POSTING MUSIC IN THE YOUTUBE BAR]

Artist: Kamex - Song: Flowey Ex Theme - Word Count: 950

Absolve. Absolve. Absolve.

That's the only word that kept repeating in a puddle of shadows which was the eradicated essence of Khala's heart. Ever since she was awaken to this world by the calls of the Reformed Realm, that's the only thing that muttered and howled at the four walls of her eternal mind. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep that infinite sleep, but that release was not granted in the world of yang and malice. Thus, agitation and resentment grew to unbound levels and the antagonism within her shell grew further.

The essence of Khala was one of combative nature, destructive desires and internal eradication. So to be awoken by the voice of The Crow served to only enhanced and augment these sensations. There was a reason why she sealed off in the depths of her sorrow in hell: because she yearned not to see another soul in this state of being until her plans were fully realized.

Not even the sight of the writerless poet could quell that overwhelming feeling which beat within her disrupted and shattered soul. In this time of self alteration, The Heart of Deveta was systematically decimating all ties with the physical and material of the world to ascend to the level of being a proper visage of vengeance and contempt.

Cripple, break and suffer.

Enraged and turbulent, the whims of Khala's blazed heart sought to have the metaphorical chains around Iriko's become reality. Around his neck, wrist, and legs would be inflamed shackles that burned with the raging might of her demonic taint. Then, across his face, a cloth of skin and blood compressed and tightened itself around his mouth to seal it shut and keep the echoes of his voice from further sullying the sweet melody of the abyss and solitude. The only thing that should make a noise here are the barren sounds of Khala's deranged thought bleeding such disgusting animosity into this pit of literal hell.

From that, the world would turn to black and fill with a liquid which turned into a sea of shade fluid. The heaviness would crush his body and mind, while the cold would be more frigid and frozen than void of space itself. All the while, the living vessel of The Lone Crow would ignite with a flame that felt as hot as the sun itself. Intermixing, churning and turning into a cyclone of agony and dismay; the two extremes crashed, clashed and mashed into one eruption of grief and suffering before a flash of faint white and gold light emerged in the darkness.

While the ocean of THE lost and shattered expanded around Iriko, the liquidized embodiment of Khala's being materialized before him. Her skin was as dark as oil, body as mendable as water and hair as long as limbs. The allure of silver illumination brightened in the wake of this formation, and Irko would soon find himself submerged within the sickening intent of The Demoness's grip as her pasty hair. For, in that same moment, an endless sea of golden eyes opened across her body and the sense of thousands of selves observing him would be felt in that moment.

It was becoming increasingly apparent that the Khala he once knew was no longer in control. Instead, what remained was a demolished, split and ruined incarnation of The False Godling and Savior. This was the antipathy, bitterness, nihilism, savagery and all that was wicked and negative compromised and filled to make the true essence of herself attempt to speak and live through her destroyed psyche and being.

Rather than embrace that which was purpose and purity, she fell and grasp that which was natural, right and brutal in creation. For, what she created was not wholeness, but only toxicity and negativism for that is what her body sought to fulfill and live by in this sea of absent self. There was no way she could ever find herself back to that state of unity in which the masquerade of her lies posed as. Therefore, she'd extend the limbs of her arms and choke Iriko with claws that burned such blot into his body and sought to burn away the tender flesh it touched.

It wasn't quite clear WHAT was staring him, but the boundless sight of this abomination of wicked intent stared him down with intent to kill and break him just as she had been broken and torn apart.

"Creation brings affliction. The inability to create brings cessation. Conclusion: I decline to agree. All horrors lead back to the beat of life, light and development. And for that reason is why you will drown, dissolve and disburse just as well as I have, Crow. Accept, lay and rot."

No words were spoken; not even telepathically. Instead, a sensation of clarity would ooze and seep into the fibers of Iriko's being to understand the process of thought sparking through the mind of this Fake Figure of Divinity. For she knew, even if she failed to kill him on his die, the man's life was as good as over with the corruption her daughter inflicted upon him.

The man was nothing more than a joke, traitor and someone to be loathed in the realm of spirits. What home did he have? What people cared for him? The only miserable thing this mortal had to cling to was the perception of a being long dead. And what remained was standing right before him and killing both his spiritual and metaphorical essence.

Mon Feb 22, 2016 8:39 pm

Iriko Crow

The Dragon of the North, Seiryuu

Iriko did not know what fate was in store for him… until he felt those words. ...Is there any point in fighting…?No, there is not… He thought to himself, as his hair slowly began to glow with a blue shine, his body convulsing as the flaming shackles gripped onto his limbs. However, that did not seem to be enough as around his face, a dirty things appeared, folding around him and muting the sound of his voice, while the burning in his arms merely began the prelude for what was to come.

The flames began to appear around his body, and in that moment a realization slowly came to him. ...She's removed my capacity to scream… is it because she cannot bare it… or because she does not want me to be able to admit that it hurts…? The Crow wondered, his spine contorting as his physical flesh was moved back from his muscles beginning to seize in response to the physical trauma. Yes, it hurt. It was excruciating. The pain was mind-numbing. However… to Iriko, it merely felt like a warm bath. He had gone through the true inferno before… and remembered that experience every time he had used his Zanpakutō to it's utmost.

"…!" His eyes slowly widened at last, giving the being who had appeared before him recognition. The hair reached around him, putting out the pain for the moment as those eyes opened, all of them staring at him. ...Am I a display, then…? ...once again, I wonder… what is… my purpose…? He wondered to himself, before a strange sensation took hold of him. If there was anything left in his stomach, he would have began to projectile vomit into his fleshy gag. The amount of negativity that she was letting off was throwing Iriko's homeostatis all kinds of wrong, every type of wrong.

Seeing her arms reach out and wrap around his throat, Iriko merely relaxed it. Pain and suffering shot directly into his mind as drops of red and gold fell from that throat of his, small golden glitters leaving as well as the curse she had afflicted him with continued to roar. His gaze, though his eyes were being forced to spasm, still attempted to look at each of the eyes that looked back at him, every single one.

"…" The man was silent, looking at her. She was correct. He was a traitor, a joke, someone to be loathed. He was just about as low as one could fall. However… as he looked at her…

A strange feeling… possessed his gaze… his eyes slowly coming to a stop. Out of those eye sockets of his, small tears began to pour out. Tears of pure and unrelenting pity. "……." His entire form hurt, and yet… the false godling before him knew very well, this man did not cry for himself. Those tears had dried up long ago. Many of his tears had… in fact, the last time he had shed them… was when he had been laying on the ground, and told that he would not be permitted to die.

Slowly, Iriko's hands drew up to his head, before they abruptly fell back to his sides. The burning still continued, but Iriko's eyes remained open. What a pitiable creature… so… tragic… Iriko's right hand slowly began to rise, his hand reaching back as he dug his pointer finger into his own wrist, his flesh that had been destroyed and cauterized many times over breaking easily as it drenched his finger in blood. Slowly, he reached forwards, his finger moving ever so slightly… As it moved, words appeared in the air, the characters they represented going out into the world.

Creation.
Created by destruction.
Destruction.
Inflicted upon creation.
A cycle, with no beginning and no end.
Destroy the body, rend the soul.
Over time, it will take its toll.
And yet, down this path of devastation…
You will find that none have left their sta…

A spray of blood left his mouth as the pain peaked, his hand falling back down to his side. The words he had written remained for a moment, before dispersing into the black liquid, Iriko's arms seized up from pain. ...Where is your will… where is your color…? Slowly, Iriko stabbed his finger back into his wound, before shifting the fingers about. This tiny measure of Nirvana Sarira Jadu created the shell of magical influence around his body, but he could already feel his Heavenly Body Magic breaking down. He could not sustain it any longer, as his head shook.

Are you… doing this to me… because someone did it to you…? Are you nothing more than a bully…? Is this the sum of your parts…? Slowly, Iriko's mind expanded, and brushed along that connection she had forced upon him, as painful as it felt for him to do so.

Is this… all that you are, Demon Goddess…?

Core Elements Devised by Aivee

Sat Mar 05, 2016 4:42 pm

[PLEASE PLAY THE POSTING MUSIC IN THE YOUTUBE BAR]

ENTER THE ESSENCE OF DREAD

Artist: N/A - Song: Chara Boss Theme - Word Count: 787

Deep

Deep

Deeper.

This abysmal ocean of dread, shade and unfiltered demonic repulsion broadened into the depths of infinity. The clusters of vile negativity that flowed around Iriko bred, blossomed and bled to flourish the sense of savagery, depravity and malice; reflecting the nature which throbbed ever-so-madly within the confines of Khala's heart and the world in which she ruled.

For all that swirled through the mind of Khala was one thing: inflict her suffering to those within reach. Therefore, to see the male submerged under such pain was enough to bring content, but not enough to satisfy her undying thirst. Therefore, he needed to be prodded and mutilated further.

Slash, slash, slash, slash.

That was the noise made as the razor-sharp tendrils vomited forth from Khala's abdomen and cut into the skin of Iriko. All around his face, ribs, groin, backside and legs; these sharpened appendages sought to maul, thrash and burn through his skin until he was nothing more than a hovering mass of tattered skin, blood and bone.

Yet -- he would not die. No. She hadn't give him that privilege just yet. The bond which kept his soul tethered to it's current state still beat strong. For the will of her former self was just that powerful and there was no way around that. There was a promise forged on that blood soaked day; and it was one that could never be so easily undone; not even by The Goddesses current self.

But -- that was okay.

Yes. It was all but fine when her intent diverged away from wanting to killing him as opposed to making him suffer. As the tears flowed from the male's face, a sense of disgust and revulsion oozed in the world around them. This sensation of malice festered and grew to the point of bleeding rich shades of red in the world around them; while the eyes of Khala turned further scarlet and sickened with animosity.

The male threw more meaningless words towards her at the expense of his own mortal being. It was a pathetic display that absolutely nauseated and repelled the demonic entity. For all he managed to do was regurgitate the same rhetoric that the creator herself had endured. Therefore, she'd crush the bones in his neck and render the male's world a world of a shade of burning red pain.

As in this ocean of blood and shade is where the colors of her soul lay to rest. So as she followed her hearts yearn and call, Khala would seek to rip out the heart of Iriko -- but he'd not die. Instead, the boy would perish, reincarnate back into his body and endure a threshold of unimaginable pain to reclaim his footing back into the realm of existence.

How -- could this be?

As the burning red ember of a heart levitated into the palm of Khala's wispy hand, the information of it's origin would flow through them all. There were many different verses which expanded into infinity and held within them souls of the same feather. From these numerous realms, the Goddess whom admired and loved Iriko plucked and took the souls of these shinigami which called themselves "Iriko Crow" to replace the deadened spirit of The Forsaken Crow.

It was the same method which brought Sunshine into her realm, and the same method which Khala used to painfully resurrect Iriko. There were tens of thousands of bloodied souls which stained their realm as the sense of eyes grew larger and more tormented. The Demoness did NOT take these souls by force, but instead -- they were given to her. Given to her in the hopes that they would be used to keep her unbridled savagery from ripping apart the worlds they love; much in the way Iriko scarified himself to spare the Soul Society this Khala's holy wrath.

Thus, as her heart grew tainted and dissolved into it's original essence, it only desired one thing: to watch him infinitely destroyed. Again -- and again -- and again; the soul and body of Iriko was meant to be obliterated, restored and achingly put back together. Repeating over and over until The Slug Shinigami was just like herself. In this way, she wanted to annihilate and break down any bond which came not of her own flesh and blood.

Hence, she'd observe and watch the results of her barbarous show. All the while, these sentiments would bled and come to realization within Iriko's mind as if they were common knowledge. This god -- wanted him to suffer.

Sun Mar 13, 2016 8:41 pm

Iriko Crow

The Dragon of the North, Seiryuu

Iriko contemplated struggling. He truly did. He contemplated breaking out of here, using all the reiatsu that his body had remaining, had stored up for the time since he had learned the Sacred Body Art Narira Jadu. But, he did not feel… that he should. He felt that this would be the incorrect action to make, logically. How bizarre… I've lived my entire life, seeing myself as little more than an ugly animal… and thus… forced all my thoughts and instincts away from those which would align with them… including this…

Had he the ability to speak, he would have laughed at himself. As things were, this vile poison that surged around his body, this immense negativity… it seemed to be having very little effect on Iriko. Of course, his body was reacting in the natural manner, convulsing and twitching with pain as she slashed into his body. His blood dripped forwards, what was once slime having become crimson vitae as it dripped from her tendrils, covering the ground with a ruby hue…

And then his windpipe was crushed. "...aah…" The sound left his mouth as he felt an earth shattering pain ripping and crushing from his body, as the feeling of something… being tugged… came out of his chest. Again…? Didn't this-- Iriko's senses were overwhelmed with the feeling of… nothing. The abyss consumed him, his mortal coil snapping and shredding as his body began to break apart.

...This… is a lie, isn't it…? ...Tia…- The male asked the universe, his eyes going blank as he died, his neck falling backwards… and in a moment, the light slowly began to reappear. …………………….what did I get myself into…? Iriko wondered, before feeling the pain in his body as the demonic bond reasserted itself, his consciousness returning to that of Iriko Puzyri-Teimei Crow. Over and over, and over and over.

Over.
And.
Over.

Dozens of times, Iriko's life force was replenished, before being snuffed out again. Over and over, he lost the feeling of consciousness, before another Iriko reappeared, before going through this hell all over again. "...Useless… it's all… useless…"

Iriko's voice emerged from the corpse, as from the body of Iriko, another life was drawn in, and snuffed out again. And yet… within that presence, there was… another presence. That presence slowly began to expand, as Iriko's body began to shift and change. His flesh slowly changed to white, his eyes vanishing as out of his head, his eyes began to rise out in stalks. The bonds which held him had to expand to accommodate for his new girth, his body continuing to rise out in every direction.

I truly am, Iriko Crow.

"I LOSE!"

"…Yeah."

Iriko stood within a plain, with a blackened sky and a cracked black floor. Golden sheen permeated throughout the entirety of this space, and within it was Iriko himself. However, with him were Iriko's. Irikos upon Irikos upon Irikos. So many Irikos, all within the same space. Their souls, the fragmented parts of their beings, with every piece of themselves. "I LOST!"

The Irikos were all standing around another one, who was laying in the middle of the clearing. His head drew back, before smashing back into the ground. "I LOST!" He yelled again, his head smashing into the ground again, and again, and again. "HOW? WHY?! WHY? WHY?" Every word was met by another world shattering smash, his head beating into the ground below him. Each of the other Irikos that stood around him were destroyed or otherwise damaged, missing limbs, eyes, ears, organs…

Except for him. Except for the one in the middle of the clearing. "NO!! I DIDN'T…! I NEVER..! NOT ME…!" He yelled out more, his hands moving up and clawing at his throat. His fingers stabbed in, but they would not go into his throat. "NO NO NO… NO… NO NO NO… PLEASE… NO…! GOD, DEVETA, I DON’T CARE..! NOT… THIS…!" His voice continued to scream, his eyes coming up and clawing at his eyes as tears of golden blood ran down his cheeks, falling down onto the ground as they continually splashed.

"Ahhh… I don't… I'm… scared…. I'm… so… sorry…!" Iriko's voice declared, all the other Irikos standing around him looking at the one in the center, whose fists were now repeatedly punching into his own throat.

"...We know you are. But… you can't be forgiven."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!"

A deafening scream left his mouth, as his voice increased in power, increased in absolute pitch. He attempted to scream his voice out, but it just grew stronger and stronger, his face turning red from the strain as his teeth bit down into his tongue, attempting to bite in deeper and deeper, but they could not destroy it.

"Ah… ga.."

"… You're cursed. You brought us to this. You caused this to happen."

Each fragment told him, each fragment explained to him. Every figment and aspect was in agreement. "...aaaah…" The male rose his right hand up to his face, his consciousness swirling as he clamped his teeth down onto the final digit, his teeth growing sore. "No, I'm… I'm a human, damnit…! I'm a human being…! I am… I… am…!"

"You're a slug. A worthless, pathetic creature undeserving of pity or adoration."

The finger finally fell from his mouth, as Iriko's head tilted forwards. His arms went slack, the fingers trailing along his waist as they came to a stop, gravity moving them gently back and forth as he gently tilted back and forth.

"……………………………."

The tremendous slug began to quiver and shake, its entire body twitching as the pain it endured began to cause it to die. The regenerative properties of its slime was not strong enough to endure the punishment it was receiving. Slowly, the shell began to crack, as the creature finally let out a death wail.

Of course, it did not. Slugs can't talk.

In the End, was a choice made?

Within the slug, another presence began to form, once again. This one, however, was silent. It was cold, and it was unmoving. A presence deep within began to tear apart the shell, and as the chains wrapped around the being once again, they would become slack. The spears and rods that crashed against the body began to flacify, falling down to the ground as the figure merely stood there, looking at the woman in front of him.

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary… over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore…" The figure slowly spoke, its feet beginning to take it forwards as it lumbered out from the shell of the creature, a peculiar darkness covering its entire body. "While I nodded, nearly napping… suddenly, there came a tapping…" It was not a voice which said these words… but the words simply emerged within this space.

"As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.." The figure continued to walk forwards, moving towards Khala, bits of its body falling away and laying on the ground, dark pieces of golden shadow. "Open here I flung a shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore… Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he."

The figure finally came to a stop, as the chains on its body grew strong once again, pulling him taut as the figure's head was slowly moved back. "Ghastly Grim and Ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly Shore…"

The figure's head was moved back and last, and where had been the features of Iriko… there was now only eyes, rimmed with black, and filled with white. "Quoth the Raven: "Nevermore.""

And thus the figure was killed. And he was killed again, and again, and again. But, no matter how many ways he was broken, crushed, or destroyed.. That same figure remained there, its white eyes looking up into the sky as death blow after death blow was dealt, the blood shed falling all around the ground as it vanished, as if Khala was attacking a corpse within a program, designed to continually shed blood that vanished as easily as it was produced.

"…" The figure remained there, taking blow after blow after blow after blow, its body being mangled, destroyed, and crushed. It simply continued to return to that form, return there over and over again. "…" It had fallen silent, as those eyes now stayed forwards. Those white orbs stared into Khala, into everything around them.

From the creature itself, its entire body moved back and forth, as if breathing, but breathing with its whole form, shrinking and moving back to its original form, over, and over again. Iriko... had stopped.

Core Elements Devised by Aivee

Wed Mar 30, 2016 5:43 pm

[PLEASE PLAY THE POSTING MUSIC IN THE YOUTUBE BAR]

ENTER THE ESSENCE OF DREAD

Artist: Gazelle Twin - Song: I Feel Blood - Word Count: 690

Break. Break. Break. BREAK. BREAK. BREAK.

The one word was set on infinite loop and played repetitively in the landscape of each of their minds as Iriko was killed over, and over and over AND OVER AGAIN. The pain in his eyes, the anguish in his soul and the trail of his miserable actions devouring him whole satisfied her demonic hunger. She was an embodiment of all things foul, the incarnation of satanism itself; so one would expect her to feed nourishment from such scenes unfolding before the entrails of her abstract existence.

As all the versions of Iriko's rained down upon him to bare their contempt and hate for their originator, the blood of these furious spirits fading lives further dyed this hellish realm in a strong stench of iron, rotting flesh and all things moldy and decayed. It was the perfect tomb to bury the once whole, intact and "pure" Crow. Just like everything else in this existence, he to would break, crumble and lose his sense of self. It was ridiculous to believe anything less than that because that was the law of nature in this universe.

Even Khala herself in this moment was nothing more than a cluster of countless demons of Khalaism morphed, mended and molded into one active consciousness. The difference now was that they became enlightened to their wicked nature, embrace their devilish traits and sought to revive what it meant to be a demon in this world. As all else had been a farce, joke and absolute mockery of the savagery, brutality and cut-throat nature that demons represented in this existence of yang.

Therefore, she had to destroy, crush and annihilate this last bond into a corrosive collective of demonic energy. Hence, she was going to finish the job she started two years ago and break his spirit wholly. It mattered not of what new formation was mutating, twisting and churning around in his soul; the distorted and formless Khala would emerge before it. As all her thousands of blood eyes gazed upon the man's sorrow words, there was no person there to acknowledge or ingest them at this point.

The Khala which Iriko knew and could reason with was buried beneath an array and absolute negativity which could not be so easily broke. And this antagonism within drew on the desires of her repressed mind, shattered it and allowed the many broken selves to form their desires and bring the true nature of the world to everyone's attention. For, much like Khala herself, they would no longer be blind to this cruelty and would become devoured in it's all encompassing embrace.

And, as the defective Iriko became further damaged, his sense of self had reached the point of almost comprehending how many times Khala herself had been destroyed, killed and re-molded over and over. That was the pain of having her "divine" powers, and a pain which still raged, thrashed and overtook her body to this day. Ergo, for this reason, she found pleasure and acceptance in this pool of animosity and hatred because now The Crow was befitting enough to become a demon.

On the heels of this ruptured logic, a blotched gathering of Khala's bodily extract would extend from her chest and seek to devour Iriko within it. Once inside, the male would then begin to feel the essence of his holiness, shinigamihood and humanity being consumed and eaten alive by this bile of Khala's bitterness, hostility and wrath. It sought to bond with the mark on his body, accelerate the rate of demonic growth and transform him -- into a demon.

Yes. That was his punishment. To be broken so many times until the very essence of himself became obliterated. And, in it's place, only a devil would remain. If she could have that sight, then she would just kill him herself based on how his body would react. That's all there to it at this point.

So, as the clock says: Tick -- tock.

Mon Apr 04, 2016 12:17 pm

UNKNOWN ERROR

???????????????????????

What is right anymore…?
What is wrong anymore…?

The male's thoughts floated through space, his body still slowly crumbling as the Demon Goddess assaulted him. I can't feel any more.. I can't… fight.. Anymore… Standing there, his eyes gently closing as the black presence around his body continued to drip and fall away, small bits of flesh appearing once more. I… can't…?

With that thought, the being's right hand reached out, before feeling a tendril of hate stab through it. Over and over it stabbed, and the being's eyes remained closed. No longer… can I look to myself for answers…? The thought passed, before his entire body was consumed, devoured by the Goddess.

I am… in..side… That thought was the next observation by the creature, before its eyes slowly opened once more. I am… truly… empty.. That went through him again, before the eyes widened.

...Emp...ty…?

* * *

The demonic energy came for him. It poured into him and onto his body, and it poured more and more. The golden cracks in his soul shone as everything else darkened, his body twitching and writhing. However…

The energy kept coming. And it kept coming. And it kept coming. It did not stop. Iriko's soul shone brighter and brighter, as the multiple selves that had been dragged in and killed continued to resist the changes upon their form. It was a situation in which Iriko himself had been placed into one time before. A time of perfect emptiness. A place of perfect serenity.

A place where he could no longer feel anything.

So it was that it absorbed. And it absorbed. And it absorbed. It took in more and more power… as even bits of the consciousness of Khala were being drawn into the being. ...a devil…? Multiple spirits were now extracted, absorbed into the mass of conscious that was forming. What's right? What's wrong?

The being tilted its head back, the eyes completely drowned in the darkness as the energy continued to be absorbed. Nothing's right? Nothing's wrong? Then… Out of the male's body, dark spheres began to form. These dark spheres moved outwards, infecting everything they came across as they spread throughout Khala's being like cysts. Like weighted stones, they slowly drained movement and energy, before returning back to the figure who was still intaking more energy.

What I want… what's right… what's wrong… What I want… what's right… what's wrong…

At last, the consciousness reached forwards, a consciousness that was that of Iriko Crow, and yet, was not. What I want… Everything else.. What I want… everything else… What.. I… want… every… single… other… thing…] The energy was still being absorbed, still consumed. After all, Iriko Puzyri-Teimei Crow had been a vessel of someone whose power had approached that of a demi-god. However, his soul had been vacated. He had been completely emptied of all ability, all power.

And now, even his mental energy had been reduced to null.

A Hero fails; a Martyr falls. Time Twists and Destinies Interchange.

So it was that it sought to absorb and consume everything that made up Khala. What I want… what I want… what I want… what I want… what I want… what I WANT… The pierced right hand gripped around the power that had ran it through, and more right hands began to grow around it, picking up the spheres and drawing them back into his body.

Slowly, from the part that had consumed the figure, it began t o rise. The mass of unholy power and mold parted, as a figure like a head pierced through. It was a wretched birth, but even in its wretchedness there was a hint of something… more. Never again.

That strength of mind smashed through. It crushed and destroyed everything its path, crushing through even those voices which remained allied against its spirit.

"Finally…"

A soft voice whispered, as the head emerged from the desolation, the rotting and decay beginning to come to a halt as it became… stale. "I was so tired of being a slug…" The voice continued, as white hair dripped from the face of the being who had emerged. Blood dripped from black scelera, covering his face. Two horns grew from either side of his head, pointing up into the air. His form was completely bare, and he did not seem to mind this in the least as the rest of his body slowly came free of its demonic prison.

"…Khala…"

The male stated, for his gender was obvious. The pointed teeth In his mouth turned into a wide smile… before fading back into a thin line as he stepped forwards. The smile turned into a frown once again, as the being's right hand slowly rose.

While the rest of his skin was as pale as death, that single hand… shone with a brilliant white radiance. The male looked at it curiously for a second, before looking back into Khala's eyes as he brought the hand forward.

Slap.

All throughout the Castle of Casuality, that blow rang out. The white hand slowly fell back to the being's side, as his body continued to consume more and more energy as he stood over top of the demonic energy, more and more of it being lost. Inside of his soul, the voices of those who had once comprised Khala's body were being… lost, fading as they were absorbed.

"… this right hand of mine.. Is the only thing which will not obey me." The male explained, looking at it and then back at her. It was very likely that there was now a colossal amount of actual pain coursing through her. That was the pain of disbelief. The same pain which Iriko had endured upon her and Deveta, long ago. It was the pain that could only be inflicted by a mortal upon a god. It was the power of doubt.

You know who I am now, don't you…? The one thing from which you could never escape. The one thing which causes you all of this pain, all of this suffering. The one thing which you would never look past, so it has come for you once more. The one to whom you beg forgiveness and spite with your every breath… I am The Truth…. The Truth.

While those words passed along the demonic link, so too would they course throughout her very soul. The being looked into the sky, his eyes wide as he slowly outstretched both hands. I will grant your wish, of course… after all… if all you have is this suffering… then all you have to do is surrender it to someone else. Someone who can take it. Someone who knows they will take it. Someone who you will force it onto. And that is what you have done. That is The Truth.

Yes, you forgot your purpose. You attempted to become the host, instead of the vessel. And now, you have forced a change that you can never take back. That is The Truth.

At last, at very long last, the absorption ceased. An absolutely tremendous amount of power had flooded the being now residing within the soul of Iriko Crow. Along with a terrific multitude of those beings who had begun to rot and decay within her. And now… you no longer have a choice. You have given it all to me. Every single bit of it. So, just as you said, long ago… now you will become an instrument of my will. After all, what is right, what is wrong… All of that was taken away. All that remains is what I want. And the first thing on that list… is you, Goddess. And from me… you will not run.

That is The Truth.

Core Elements Devised by Aivee

Thu Apr 07, 2016 11:19 pm

[PLAY POSTING MUSIC]

T H E S O U R C E

Artist: Gazelle Twin - Song: Exorcise - Word Count: 1260

Dead and emptied. These two words described process of which all things in this universe surrender to. For what is given life must be taken by death, and what is full must eventually be voided and null. From the second a creature is brought into existence, they are cursed with this mark of decay until the last rays of light leave their consciousness. Therefore, as the essence of Iriko Crow vacated his body, the disarrayed and contorted embodiment of Khala could only feel -- nothing. Rather, she herself had been deprived of feeling much else due to this construct of existence holding so true within herself.

For the act of committing this murder was the final attachment she needed to sever to be freed of these mortal desires. As all that left and remained within herself was cold and numb feeling. This disengagement of self was required in order to attain the true throne of a demonic god and cast away the shackles of that impudent self she so loathed. While, in return, the sham of purity and light within the male had been demolished as well and this creature could undoubtedly feel his ego shattering under the weight of being ruined, ravaged and crushed over what seemed to be an eternity.

The mutation and corruption of his being was yet again proving this cycle to be true and why there was a quiet and wicked content in seeing him broken. The Wings of The Crow had been snapped off and torn to pieces just as her own heart and mind had been many eons ago. This sight had been gratifying to see as her own twisted and demented vision of the universe had been enforced and held true. It is for this reason that the negativism and depravity within The Godling would only grow and her mind would seek to become further and further gone from this realm of reality.

For even as this abomination of a man yearned to consume all that she was, he could never truly wield the weight of her infinite degradation for she was the epitome of yang in this universe. Rip her apart, break her and take everything away from her kingdom -- and it will still flow back into her. The river of cynicism, decay and futility which the universe possessed was unending and held constant. No matter how bright a light may shine within this cosmos, the inevitable demise of it's brilliance will come. And, like all material forged in this world, will it then return into the shivering abyss of the void and rebound once more into the night of endless, silent death.

Hence, the entity of this shell's action was futile. Futile, futile, futile, futile, futile, futile, FUTILE.

F͓̬̳̩̗̠̘̰ U͓̥̤̭̼͓ T͓͓̜͙̜̲̼͙͙̣ͅ I̬̻̯̫͓͈̬͇̼̞͎̗̳̝ L͓̻̘͇̝͈̞̼̻ E͍̱̗̲̹̬͖̹̞̳

It mattered not that he consumed and tore apart the bottomless pit of endless voices within her essence, for she was still the core and root of it all. K H A L A -- was the source of all things foul and the originator of the corrupt. She was the thing that brought men to madness, caused whole civilizations to collapse and for the construct of death to be birthed into this universe. To strip away this perpetual polarity that has acclimated since the first breath of darkness within this universe -- was naive at best, and utterly delusional at worse. This leech of antagonism, conflict and negativism was attached and made whole with The Godling's being. As her ego, consciousness and sense of self was attached to the one thing which remained ever valid and real in this existence: cessation.

Cessation of life. Cessation of pleasure. Cessation of self. Cessation of power. Cessation of every known construct imaginable. There was nothing which escaped this concept and it would even consume her own negativism and devour it -- into nothing. Total and absolute nihilism was the unavoidable reality of this world. And that is why the eyes which surrounded them all melted, the blotches of darkness around her body faded and the only thing left was a terminated self. As this embodiment of "Truth" was successful in freeing Khala of these spirits and awakening her to this world's true principles, but not in the way he ever imagined or intended.

As every facet of Khala which had existed over her current lifetime of being revived had been absorbed and removed from her essence. This included the callow wench whom attempted to go astray and open her heart to something which was not in her embodiment. Much like Iriko Crow, The Khala who tried to break from this path of negativism and crudeness -- was gone. In committing this act, this being of "Truth" brought her sense of self back to the beginning and restored The Goddess to the epitome of her vile and corrupt energy at the start of the universe. For the form that she adorned now was the colorless, empty and void creature which had first been shattered out of the cold embodiment of The Demon God's broken being.

And that self -- desired destruction

A͇̰̹͍͉̬̩̝̯̦̟͚͈͎͔̮̓̈̾͟͠Ḣ͕̟͚̺̩̘͕̺̳̣̜͈͓̞͓̳̙̪͋̿ͩ͐ͪ͟͠H̷͒ͭ̓͛͂ͫͥ̀ͤͬ́̆ͯ͂͟҉̸̛̦̝̟̭͎͎̙͖̞͎̥̬̲̠̺̠ͅH̑ͤ͊͐̀̈́̈́̊̎ͨ͏̛̯͉̜̜̯̜̘̫͝ͅH̺͍͎͊̑͆̇̎͗̓̽̂̎͗̐̌͑͡H̨̺͚͍̺ͣ̎̔ͪ̆̑̈́͠H̸̖͎̱̺̥̻̤̦̹ͦ̃͛̆̽́̊̑̓̂̾̂̌̍͗ͯ͐ͭ͢H͓̻̦͓͐ͮͩ̌ͭ͛̇̇ͧ̊̒̀͜͡͞H̢̼̭͖̠͚̲̟͍̪̦̱̟̪̱̬̯͔̎ͤ̀͛͊̌ͩ͊̿ͣ̍͂̚͡H̨̧̻̰̱̣͉̦̬̰̜̮̹͔̥̝͇̍̌͆͌̇͗̒ͪ̀͟͞Ḣ̴̵̢̜̹̰͕̘̮̗̟̯͚̝̺ͧ͂͆̈͋͛ͣ̍̌̂͋̌͐̔̚̚H̯̘̥͖͇͛͒ͨ̓̿ͣ̇ͣ͂ͭ͐͒ͧ̓͜͢͠͝H̡̞̯̳̮͕̰̬̬͎͔͍͇̗̟͚͖͓̐̽̿ͮ͋͊̎̄͑ͪ̆ͦ͑ͅḨ̸̢͒ͬ̓ͭ̔̏̽͐͏̮̣̗̗̩̤̖͇̻H̳̭̯̗̳̼̺̱̰͉͑̓ͨ̓͑͘͟͞Ḩ̢̪̥̙͈̥̙̝̱͐ͤ͂ͨ͋ͧ͛̓͗ͭͧ̋̃͌ͩ̌̒H̡̡̼̳͙͕̭̤̱͇͎̼̱̭̫̱͖͉̜͙̗̄ͤ͂̾̔̇̅̀̀̎ͦͥ̕͟H̸̷̨͈̪̮̜̙̮̊̐̆͋̕Ḩ̢̠̖̙̲̫̭̫̟̜͚̯̫͕̥͇͇̟̼̊̈́ͦͪͪ͊ͤ̄̔ͫ̒ͬͪ͊̓H̄̊̃ͪ̄̾ͫͯ̄́ͤ̈́̒̓͗̂̔̈̈͞҉̸̵͎̲͖͖̮͈̱̬̺͙̥͇̠͕̣͖͈͔ͅH̨̭̪̪̹͛̿ͬ̈͑͂͛͑̑͟͞H̴̡̛͔͍̲̤̣̯̩͚̟̰̞̻͔͛͐̓ͥͥͫͯ̆̏ͩͪ̐̌̓̄̀̓ͯ͞͞H̪̘̠̳͖͍̻͖̹̞̦ͨ̆ͫ̈͋̏̑͒ͩͥ͢ͅHͭ̈́̊̏̂̇̏̑̌̎̾̀҉̡̧̙̺͇̥̺̠̯̳͚̕͞H̡͇̖̝̣̼̞̗̘̳̲̯̗̫̥̖̠ͯ͆̋̿ͤ̍ͤ̉̆ͧ̐ͪ͟Ḣ̵͇̺̥̳͚̞̙͖̪̝̳̫̯̩̔̈́̆ͫ͐̏ͪ̍͌͗ͭ̀ͅḨ̸̨͚̳͚͓̦̪͓̜̅̒̾̂͊͆̋ͥ͗̽̔͑͆̏͟͞Ĥ̡͈̟̻̩̳̼̝̙̪̤̖̲̫̲͉͇̅̿͐͒͘H̡̢̲̻̳̬̲͚͕̦͉̹͇ͪ́ͬ̈̑̀ͭ͛̉ͤ̐H̨͉̩̭̞̘͚̭̪͋̌̂͑̈́̅̎̊̀ͅH̸̢̨̛̛̱̲̼͙̞ͥ̒͋́ͪ̉

The sheer power which flowed this being had broke and a scream which shook the very foundations of Demon World itself radiated and scorched out of her being. In this screech, the colors of her being faded and the eyes of Khala bled out and left nothing but empty pits of darkness to stare at the creature of "Nevermore".

FUTILE, FUTILE, FUTILE, FUTILE

THIS CREATURE WAS NOT BOUND BY ANYTHING BUT HER OWN CORRUPTED EMBODIED AND DID NOT BOW TO ANYONE!

Break, break, BREAK!

In that instant, a cluster of pure satanic energy bled out of her shade dress and sought to obliterate the light spreading all around. If this were to touch Nevermore, then the male would be submerged in a sea of unending pain and decay. As this energy sought to break him down, rip apart his essence and further drown him in the sense of despair and disintegration which was inevitable in this universe. For the pain he inflicted on Khala re-ignited the spark of carnage within her heart and this anguish cautioned her to obliterate anything which caused her this torment. Her whole walking existence was just one blur of pain and she now sought to spread that to whatever she could touch.

A͇̰̹͍͉̬̩̝̯̦̟͚͈͎͔̮̓̈̾͟͠Ḣ͕̟͚̺̩̘͕̺̳̣̜͈͓̞͓̳̙̪͋̿ͩ͐ͪ͟͠H̷͒ͭ̓͛͂ͫͥ̀ͤͬ́̆ͯ͂͟҉̸̛̦̝̟̭͎͎̙͖̞͎̥̬̲̠̺̠ͅH̑ͤ͊͐̀̈́̈́̊̎ͨ͏̛̯͉̜̜̯̜̘̫͝ͅH̺͍͎͊̑͆̇̎͗̓̽̂̎͗̐̌͑͡H̨̺͚͍̺ͣ̎̔ͪ̆̑̈́͠H̸̖͎̱̺̥̻̤̦̹ͦ̃͛̆̽́̊̑̓̂̾̂̌̍͗ͯ͐ͭ͢H͓̻̦͓͐ͮͩ̌ͭ͛̇̇ͧ̊̒̀͜͡͞H̢̼̭͖̠͚̲̟͍̪̦̱̟̪̱̬̯͔̎ͤ̀͛͊̌ͩ͊̿ͣ̍͂̚͡H̨̧̻̰̱̣͉̦̬̰̜̮̹͔̥̝͇̍̌͆͌̇͗̒ͪ̀͟͞Ḣ̴̵̢̜̹̰͕̘̮̗̟̯͚̝̺ͧ͂͆̈͋͛ͣ̍̌̂͋̌͐̔̚̚H̯̘̥͖͇͛͒ͨ̓̿ͣ̇ͣ͂ͭ͐͒ͧ̓͜͢͠͝H̡̞̯̳̮͕̰̬̬͎͔͍͇̗̟͚͖͓̐̽̿ͮ͋͊̎̄͑ͪ̆ͦ͑ͅḨ̸̢͒ͬ̓ͭ̔̏̽͐͏̮̣̗̗̩̤̖͇̻H̳̭̯̗̳̼̺̱̰͉͑̓ͨ̓͑͘͟͞Ḩ̢̪̥̙͈̥̙̝̱͐ͤ͂ͨ͋ͧ͛̓͗ͭͧ̋̃͌ͩ̌̒H̡̡̼̳͙͕̭̤̱͇͎̼̱̭̫̱͖͉̜͙̗̄ͤ͂̾̔̇̅̀̀̎ͦͥ̕͟H̸̷̨͈̪̮̜̙̮̊̐̆͋̕Ḩ̢̠̖̙̲̫̭̫̟̜͚̯̫͕̥͇͇̟̼̊̈́ͦͪͪ͊ͤ̄̔ͫ̒ͬͪ͊̓H̄̊̃ͪ̄̾ͫͯ̄́ͤ̈́̒̓͗̂̔̈̈͞҉̸̵͎̲͖͖̮͈̱̬̺͙̥͇̠͕̣͖͈͔ͅH̨̭̪̪̹͛̿ͬ̈͑͂͛͑̑͟͞H̴̡̛͔͍̲̤̣̯̩͚̟̰̞̻͔͛͐̓ͥͥͫͯ̆̏ͩͪ̐̌̓̄̀̓ͯ͞͞H̪̘̠̳͖͍̻͖̹̞̦ͨ̆ͫ̈͋̏̑͒ͩͥ͢ͅHͭ̈́̊̏̂̇̏̑̌̎̾̀҉̡̧̙̺͇̥̺̠̯̳͚̕͞H̡͇̖̝̣̼̞̗̘̳̲̯̗̫̥̖̠ͯ͆̋̿ͤ̍ͤ̉̆ͧ̐ͪ͟Ḣ̵͇̺̥̳͚̞̙͖̪̝̳̫̯̩̔̈́̆ͫ͐̏ͪ̍͌͗ͭ̀ͅḨ̸̨͚̳͚͓̦̪͓̜̅̒̾̂͊͆̋ͥ͗̽̔͑͆̏͟͞Ĥ̡͈̟̻̩̳̼̝̙̪̤̖̲̫̲͉͇̅̿͐͒͘H̡̢̲̻̳̬̲͚͕̦͉̹͇ͪ́ͬ̈̑̀ͭ͛̉ͤ̐H̨͉̩̭̞̘͚̭̪͋̌̂͑̈́̅̎̊̀ͅH̸̢̨̛̛̱̲̼͙̞ͥ̒͋́ͪ̉

A͇̰̹͍͉̬̩̝̯̦̟͚͈͎͔̮̓̈̾͟͠Ḣ͕̟͚̺̩̘͕̺̳̣̜͈͓̞͓̳̙̪͋̿ͩ͐ͪ͟͠H̷͒ͭ̓͛͂ͫͥ̀ͤͬ́̆ͯ͂͟҉̸̛̦̝̟̭͎͎̙͖̞͎̥̬̲̠̺̠ͅH̑ͤ͊͐̀̈́̈́̊̎ͨ͏̛̯͉̜̜̯̜̘̫͝ͅH̺͍͎͊̑͆̇̎͗̓̽̂̎͗̐̌͑͡H̨̺͚͍̺ͣ̎̔ͪ̆̑̈́͠H̸̖͎̱̺̥̻̤̦̹ͦ̃͛̆̽́̊̑̓̂̾̂̌̍͗ͯ͐ͭ͢H͓̻̦͓͐ͮͩ̌ͭ͛̇̇ͧ̊̒̀͜͡͞H̢̼̭͖̠͚̲̟͍̪̦̱̟̪̱̬̯͔̎ͤ̀͛͊̌ͩ͊̿ͣ̍͂̚͡H̨̧̻̰̱̣͉̦̬̰̜̮̹͔̥̝͇̍̌͆͌̇͗̒ͪ̀͟͞Ḣ̴̵̢̜̹̰͕̘̮̗̟̯͚̝̺ͧ͂͆̈͋͛ͣ̍̌̂͋̌͐̔̚̚H̯̘̥͖͇͛͒ͨ̓̿ͣ̇ͣ͂ͭ͐͒ͧ̓͜͢͠͝H̡̞̯̳̮͕̰̬̬͎͔͍͇̗̟͚͖͓̐̽̿ͮ͋͊̎̄͑ͪ̆ͦ͑ͅḨ̸̢͒ͬ̓ͭ̔̏̽͐͏̮̣̗̗̩̤̖͇̻H̳̭̯̗̳̼̺̱̰͉͑̓ͨ̓͑͘͟͞Ḩ̢̪̥̙͈̥̙̝̱͐ͤ͂ͨ͋ͧ͛̓͗ͭͧ̋̃͌ͩ̌̒H̡̡̼̳͙͕̭̤̱͇͎̼̱̭̫̱͖͉̜͙̗̄ͤ͂̾̔̇̅̀̀̎ͦͥ̕͟H̸̷̨͈̪̮̜̙̮̊̐̆͋̕Ḩ̢̠̖̙̲̫̭̫̟̜͚̯̫͕̥͇͇̟̼̊̈́ͦͪͪ͊ͤ̄̔ͫ̒ͬͪ͊̓H̄̊̃ͪ̄̾ͫͯ̄́ͤ̈́̒̓͗̂̔̈̈͞҉̸̵͎̲͖͖̮͈̱̬̺͙̥͇̠͕̣͖͈͔ͅH̨̭̪̪̹͛̿ͬ̈͑͂͛͑̑͟͞H̴̡̛͔͍̲̤̣̯̩͚̟̰̞̻͔͛͐̓ͥͥͫͯ̆̏ͩͪ̐̌̓̄̀̓ͯ͞͞H̪̘̠̳͖͍̻͖̹̞̦ͨ̆ͫ̈͋̏̑͒ͩͥ͢ͅHͭ̈́̊̏̂̇̏̑̌̎̾̀҉̡̧̙̺͇̥̺̠̯̳͚̕͞H̡͇̖̝̣̼̞̗̘̳̲̯̗̫̥̖̠ͯ͆̋̿ͤ̍ͤ̉̆ͧ̐ͪ͟Ḣ̵͇̺̥̳͚̞̙͖̪̝̳̫̯̩̔̈́̆ͫ͐̏ͪ̍͌͗ͭ̀ͅḨ̸̨͚̳͚͓̦̪͓̜̅̒̾̂͊͆̋ͥ͗̽̔͑͆̏͟͞Ĥ̡͈̟̻̩̳̼̝̙̪̤̖̲̫̲͉͇̅̿͐͒͘H̡̢̲̻̳̬̲͚͕̦͉̹͇ͪ́ͬ̈̑̀ͭ͛̉ͤ̐H̨͉̩̭̞̘͚̭̪͋̌̂͑̈́̅̎̊̀ͅH̸̢̨̛̛̱̲̼͙̞ͥ̒͋́ͪ̉

A͇̰̹͍͉̬̩̝̯̦̟͚͈͎͔̮̓̈̾͟͠Ḣ͕̟͚̺̩̘͕̺̳̣̜͈͓̞͓̳̙̪͋̿ͩ͐ͪ͟͠H̷͒ͭ̓͛͂ͫͥ̀ͤͬ́̆ͯ͂͟҉̸̛̦̝̟̭͎͎̙͖̞͎̥̬̲̠̺̠ͅH̑ͤ͊͐̀̈́̈́̊̎ͨ͏̛̯͉̜̜̯̜̘̫͝ͅH̺͍͎͊̑͆̇̎͗̓̽̂̎͗̐̌͑͡H̨̺͚͍̺ͣ̎̔ͪ̆̑̈́͠H̸̖͎̱̺̥̻̤̦̹ͦ̃͛̆̽́̊̑̓̂̾̂̌̍͗ͯ͐ͭ͢H͓̻̦͓͐ͮͩ̌ͭ͛̇̇ͧ̊̒̀͜͡͞H̢̼̭͖̠͚̲̟͍̪̦̱̟̪̱̬̯͔̎ͤ̀͛͊̌ͩ͊̿ͣ̍͂̚͡H̨̧̻̰̱̣͉̦̬̰̜̮̹͔̥̝͇̍̌͆͌̇͗̒ͪ̀͟͞Ḣ̴̵̢̜̹̰͕̘̮̗̟̯͚̝̺ͧ͂͆̈͋͛ͣ̍̌̂͋̌͐̔̚̚H̯̘̥͖͇͛͒ͨ̓̿ͣ̇ͣ͂ͭ͐͒ͧ̓͜͢͠͝H̡̞̯̳̮͕̰̬̬͎͔͍͇̗̟͚͖͓̐̽̿ͮ͋͊̎̄͑ͪ̆ͦ͑ͅḨ̸̢͒ͬ̓ͭ̔̏̽͐͏̮̣̗̗̩̤̖͇̻H̳̭̯̗̳̼̺̱̰͉͑̓ͨ̓͑͘͟͞Ḩ̢̪̥̙͈̥̙̝̱͐ͤ͂ͨ͋ͧ͛̓͗ͭͧ̋̃͌ͩ̌̒H̡̡̼̳͙͕̭̤̱͇͎̼̱̭̫̱͖͉̜͙̗̄ͤ͂̾̔̇̅̀̀̎ͦͥ̕͟H̸̷̨͈̪̮̜̙̮̊̐̆͋̕Ḩ̢̠̖̙̲̫̭̫̟̜͚̯̫͕̥͇͇̟̼̊̈́ͦͪͪ͊ͤ̄̔ͫ̒ͬͪ͊̓H̄̊̃ͪ̄̾ͫͯ̄́ͤ̈́̒̓͗̂̔̈̈͞҉̸̵͎̲͖͖̮͈̱̬̺͙̥͇̠͕̣͖͈͔ͅH̨̭̪̪̹͛̿ͬ̈͑͂͛͑̑͟͞H̴̡̛͔͍̲̤̣̯̩͚̟̰̞̻͔͛͐̓ͥͥͫͯ̆̏ͩͪ̐̌̓̄̀̓ͯ͞͞H̪̘̠̳͖͍̻͖̹̞̦ͨ̆ͫ̈͋̏̑͒ͩͥ͢ͅHͭ̈́̊̏̂̇̏̑̌̎̾̀҉̡̧̙̺͇̥̺̠̯̳͚̕͞H̡͇̖̝̣̼̞̗̘̳̲̯̗̫̥̖̠ͯ͆̋̿ͤ̍ͤ̉̆ͧ̐ͪ͟Ḣ̵͇̺̥̳͚̞̙͖̪̝̳̫̯̩̔̈́̆ͫ͐̏ͪ̍͌͗ͭ̀ͅḨ̸̨͚̳͚͓̦̪͓̜̅̒̾̂͊͆̋ͥ͗̽̔͑͆̏͟͞Ĥ̡͈̟̻̩̳̼̝̙̪̤̖̲̫̲͉͇̅̿͐͒͘H̡̢̲̻̳̬̲͚͕̦͉̹͇ͪ́ͬ̈̑̀ͭ͛̉ͤ̐H̨͉̩̭̞̘͚̭̪͋̌̂͑̈́̅̎̊̀ͅH̸̢̨̛̛̱̲̼͙̞ͥ̒͋́ͪ̉

A͇̰̹͍͉̬̩̝̯̦̟͚͈͎͔̮̓̈̾͟͠Ḣ͕̟͚̺̩̘͕̺̳̣̜͈͓̞͓̳̙̪͋̿ͩ͐ͪ͟͠H̷͒ͭ̓͛͂ͫͥ̀ͤͬ́̆ͯ͂͟҉̸̛̦̝̟̭͎͎̙͖̞͎̥̬̲̠̺̠ͅH̑ͤ͊͐̀̈́̈́̊̎ͨ͏̛̯͉̜̜̯̜̘̫͝ͅH̺͍͎͊̑͆̇̎͗̓̽̂̎͗̐̌͑͡H̨̺͚͍̺ͣ̎̔ͪ̆̑̈́͠H̸̖͎̱̺̥̻̤̦̹ͦ̃͛̆̽́̊̑̓̂̾̂̌̍͗ͯ͐ͭ͢H͓̻̦͓͐ͮͩ̌ͭ͛̇̇ͧ̊̒̀͜͡͞H̢̼̭͖̠͚̲̟͍̪̦̱̟̪̱̬̯͔̎ͤ̀͛͊̌ͩ͊̿ͣ̍͂̚͡H̨̧̻̰̱̣͉̦̬̰̜̮̹͔̥̝͇̍̌͆͌̇͗̒ͪ̀͟͞Ḣ̴̵̢̜̹̰͕̘̮̗̟̯͚̝̺ͧ͂͆̈͋͛ͣ̍̌̂͋̌͐̔̚̚H̯̘̥͖͇͛͒ͨ̓̿ͣ̇ͣ͂ͭ͐͒ͧ̓͜͢͠͝H̡̞̯̳̮͕̰̬̬͎͔͍͇̗̟͚͖͓̐̽̿ͮ͋͊̎̄͑ͪ̆ͦ͑ͅḨ̸̢͒ͬ̓ͭ̔̏̽͐͏̮̣̗̗̩̤̖͇̻H̳̭̯̗̳̼̺̱̰͉͑̓ͨ̓͑͘͟͞Ḩ̢̪̥̙͈̥̙̝̱͐ͤ͂ͨ͋ͧ͛̓͗ͭͧ̋̃͌ͩ̌̒H̡̡̼̳͙͕̭̤̱͇͎̼̱̭̫̱͖͉̜͙̗̄ͤ͂̾̔̇̅̀̀̎ͦͥ̕͟H̸̷̨͈̪̮̜̙̮̊̐̆͋̕Ḩ̢̠̖̙̲̫̭̫̟̜͚̯̫͕̥͇͇̟̼̊̈́ͦͪͪ͊ͤ̄̔ͫ̒ͬͪ͊̓H̄̊̃ͪ̄̾ͫͯ̄́ͤ̈́̒̓͗̂̔̈̈͞҉̸̵͎̲͖͖̮͈̱̬̺͙̥͇̠͕̣͖͈͔ͅH̨̭̪̪̹͛̿ͬ̈͑͂͛͑̑͟͞H̴̡̛͔͍̲̤̣̯̩͚̟̰̞̻͔͛͐̓ͥͥͫͯ̆̏ͩͪ̐̌̓̄̀̓ͯ͞͞H̪̘̠̳͖͍̻͖̹̞̦ͨ̆ͫ̈͋̏̑͒ͩͥ͢ͅHͭ̈́̊̏̂̇̏̑̌̎̾̀҉̡̧̙̺͇̥̺̠̯̳͚̕͞H̡͇̖̝̣̼̞̗̘̳̲̯̗̫̥̖̠ͯ͆̋̿ͤ̍ͤ̉̆ͧ̐ͪ͟Ḣ̵͇̺̥̳͚̞̙͖̪̝̳̫̯̩̔̈́̆ͫ͐̏ͪ̍͌͗ͭ̀ͅḨ̸̨͚̳͚͓̦̪͓̜̅̒̾̂͊͆̋ͥ͗̽̔͑͆̏͟͞Ĥ̡͈̟̻̩̳̼̝̙̪̤̖̲̫̲͉͇̅̿͐͒͘H̡̢̲̻̳̬̲͚͕̦͉̹͇ͪ́ͬ̈̑̀ͭ͛̉ͤ̐H̨͉̩̭̞̘͚̭̪͋̌̂͑̈́̅̎̊̀ͅH̸̢̨̛̛̱̲̼͙̞ͥ̒͋́ͪ̉
A͇̰̹͍͉̬̩̝̯̦̟͚͈͎͔̮̓̈̾͟͠Ḣ͕̟͚̺̩̘͕̺̳̣̜͈͓̞͓̳̙̪͋̿ͩ͐ͪ͟͠H̷͒ͭ̓͛͂ͫͥ̀ͤͬ́̆ͯ͂͟҉̸̛̦̝̟̭͎͎̙͖̞͎̥̬̲̠̺̠ͅH̑ͤ͊͐̀̈́̈́̊̎ͨ͏̛̯͉̜̜̯̜̘̫͝ͅH̺͍͎͊̑͆̇̎͗̓̽̂̎͗̐̌͑͡H̨̺͚͍̺ͣ̎̔ͪ̆̑̈́͠H̸̖͎̱̺̥̻̤̦̹ͦ̃͛̆̽́̊̑̓̂̾̂̌̍͗ͯ͐ͭ͢H͓̻̦͓͐ͮͩ̌ͭ͛̇̇ͧ̊̒̀͜͡͞H̢̼̭͖̠͚̲̟͍̪̦̱̟̪̱̬̯͔̎ͤ̀͛͊̌ͩ͊̿ͣ̍͂̚͡H̨̧̻̰̱̣͉̦̬̰̜̮̹͔̥̝͇̍̌͆͌̇͗̒ͪ̀͟͞Ḣ̴̵̢̜̹̰͕̘̮̗̟̯͚̝̺ͧ͂͆̈͋͛ͣ̍̌̂͋̌͐̔̚̚H̯̘̥͖͇͛͒ͨ̓̿ͣ̇ͣ͂ͭ͐͒ͧ̓͜͢͠͝H̡̞̯̳̮͕̰̬̬͎͔͍͇̗̟͚͖͓̐̽̿ͮ͋͊̎̄͑ͪ̆ͦ͑ͅḨ̸̢͒ͬ̓ͭ̔̏̽͐͏̮̣̗̗̩̤̖͇̻H̳̭̯̗̳̼̺̱̰͉͑̓ͨ̓͑͘͟͞Ḩ̢̪̥̙͈̥̙̝̱͐ͤ͂ͨ͋ͧ͛̓͗ͭͧ̋̃͌ͩ̌̒H̡̡̼̳͙͕̭̤̱͇͎̼̱̭̫̱͖͉̜͙̗̄ͤ͂̾̔̇̅̀̀̎ͦͥ̕͟H̸̷̨͈̪̮̜̙̮̊̐̆͋̕Ḩ̢̠̖̙̲̫̭̫̟̜͚̯̫͕̥͇͇̟̼̊̈́ͦͪͪ͊ͤ̄̔ͫ̒ͬͪ͊̓H̄̊̃ͪ̄̾ͫͯ̄́ͤ̈́̒̓͗̂̔̈̈͞҉̸̵͎̲͖͖̮͈̱̬̺͙̥͇̠͕̣͖͈͔ͅH̨̭̪̪̹͛̿ͬ̈͑͂͛͑̑͟͞H̴̡̛͔͍̲̤̣̯̩͚̟̰̞̻͔͛͐̓ͥͥͫͯ̆̏ͩͪ̐̌̓̄̀̓ͯ͞͞H̪̘̠̳͖͍̻͖̹̞̦ͨ̆ͫ̈͋̏̑͒ͩͥ͢ͅHͭ̈́̊̏̂̇̏̑̌̎̾̀҉̡̧̙̺͇̥̺̠̯̳͚̕͞H̡͇̖̝̣̼̞̗̘̳̲̯̗̫̥̖̠ͯ͆̋̿ͤ̍ͤ̉̆ͧ̐ͪ͟Ḣ̵͇̺̥̳͚̞̙͖̪̝̳̫̯̩̔̈́̆ͫ͐̏ͪ̍͌͗ͭ̀ͅḨ̸̨͚̳͚͓̦̪͓̜̅̒̾̂͊͆̋ͥ͗̽̔͑͆̏͟͞Ĥ̡͈̟̻̩̳̼̝̙̪̤̖̲̫̲͉͇̅̿͐͒͘H̡̢̲̻̳̬̲͚͕̦͉̹͇ͪ́ͬ̈̑̀ͭ͛̉ͤ̐H̨͉̩̭̞̘͚̭̪͋̌̂͑̈́̅̎̊̀ͅH̸̢̨̛̛̱̲̼͙̞ͥ̒͋́ͪ̉
A͇̰̹͍͉̬̩̝̯̦̟͚͈͎͔̮̓̈̾͟͠Ḣ͕̟͚̺̩̘͕̺̳̣̜͈͓̞͓̳̙̪͋̿ͩ͐ͪ͟͠H̷͒ͭ̓͛͂ͫͥ̀ͤͬ́̆ͯ͂͟҉̸̛̦̝̟̭͎͎̙͖̞͎̥̬̲̠̺̠ͅH̑ͤ͊͐̀̈́̈́̊̎ͨ͏̛̯͉̜̜̯̜̘̫͝ͅH̺͍͎͊̑͆̇̎͗̓̽̂̎͗̐̌͑͡H̨̺͚͍̺ͣ̎̔ͪ̆̑̈́͠H̸̖͎̱̺̥̻̤̦̹ͦ̃͛̆̽́̊̑̓̂̾̂̌̍͗ͯ͐ͭ͢H͓̻̦͓͐ͮͩ̌ͭ͛̇̇ͧ̊̒̀͜͡͞H̢̼̭͖̠͚̲̟͍̪̦̱̟̪̱̬̯͔̎ͤ̀͛͊̌ͩ͊̿ͣ̍͂̚͡H̨̧̻̰̱̣͉̦̬̰̜̮̹͔̥̝͇̍̌͆͌̇͗̒ͪ̀͟͞Ḣ̴̵̢̜̹̰͕̘̮̗̟̯͚̝̺ͧ͂͆̈͋͛ͣ̍̌̂͋̌͐̔̚̚H̯̘̥͖͇͛͒ͨ̓̿ͣ̇ͣ͂ͭ͐͒ͧ̓͜͢͠͝H̡̞̯̳̮͕̰̬̬͎͔͍͇̗̟͚͖͓̐̽̿ͮ͋͊̎̄͑ͪ̆ͦ͑ͅḨ̸̢͒ͬ̓ͭ̔̏̽͐͏̮̣̗̗̩̤̖͇̻H̳̭̯̗̳̼̺̱̰͉͑̓ͨ̓͑͘͟͞Ḩ̢̪̥̙͈̥̙̝̱͐ͤ͂ͨ͋ͧ͛̓͗ͭͧ̋̃͌ͩ̌̒H̡̡̼̳͙͕̭̤̱͇͎̼̱̭̫̱͖͉̜͙̗̄ͤ͂̾̔̇̅̀̀̎ͦͥ̕͟H̸̷̨͈̪̮̜̙̮̊̐̆͋̕Ḩ̢̠̖̙̲̫̭̫̟̜͚̯̫͕̥͇͇̟̼̊̈́ͦͪͪ͊ͤ̄̔ͫ̒ͬͪ͊̓H̄̊̃ͪ̄̾ͫͯ̄́ͤ̈́̒̓͗̂̔̈̈͞҉̸̵͎̲͖͖̮͈̱̬̺͙̥͇̠͕̣͖͈͔ͅH̨̭̪̪̹͛̿ͬ̈͑͂͛͑̑͟͞H̴̡̛͔͍̲̤̣̯̩͚̟̰̞̻͔͛͐̓ͥͥͫͯ̆̏ͩͪ̐̌̓̄̀̓ͯ͞͞H̪̘̠̳͖͍̻͖̹̞̦ͨ̆ͫ̈͋̏̑͒ͩͥ͢ͅHͭ̈́̊̏̂̇̏̑̌̎̾̀҉̡̧̙̺͇̥̺̠̯̳͚̕͞H̡͇̖̝̣̼̞̗̘̳̲̯̗̫̥̖̠ͯ͆̋̿ͤ̍ͤ̉̆ͧ̐ͪ͟Ḣ̵͇̺̥̳͚̞̙͖̪̝̳̫̯̩̔̈́̆ͫ͐̏ͪ̍͌͗ͭ̀ͅḨ̸̨͚̳͚͓̦̪͓̜̅̒̾̂͊͆̋ͥ͗̽̔͑͆̏͟͞Ĥ̡͈̟̻̩̳̼̝̙̪̤̖̲̫̲͉͇̅̿͐͒͘H̡̢̲̻̳̬̲͚͕̦͉̹͇ͪ́ͬ̈̑̀ͭ͛̉ͤ̐H̨͉̩̭̞̘͚̭̪͋̌̂͑̈́̅̎̊̀ͅH̸̢̨̛̛̱̲̼͙̞ͥ̒͋́ͪ̉
A͇̰̹͍͉̬̩̝̯̦̟͚͈͎͔̮̓̈̾͟͠Ḣ͕̟͚̺̩̘͕̺̳̣̜͈͓̞͓̳̙̪͋̿ͩ͐ͪ͟͠H̷͒ͭ̓͛͂ͫͥ̀ͤͬ́̆ͯ͂͟҉̸̛̦̝̟̭͎͎̙͖̞͎̥̬̲̠̺̠ͅH̑ͤ͊͐̀̈́̈́̊̎ͨ͏̛̯͉̜̜̯̜̘̫͝ͅH̺͍͎͊̑͆̇̎͗̓̽̂̎͗̐̌͑͡H̨̺͚͍̺ͣ̎̔ͪ̆̑̈́͠H̸̖͎̱̺̥̻̤̦̹ͦ̃͛̆̽́̊̑̓̂̾̂̌̍͗ͯ͐ͭ͢H͓̻̦͓͐ͮͩ̌ͭ͛̇̇ͧ̊̒̀͜͡͞H̢̼̭͖̠͚̲̟͍̪̦̱̟̪̱̬̯͔̎ͤ̀͛͊̌ͩ͊̿ͣ̍͂̚͡H̨̧̻̰̱̣͉̦̬̰̜̮̹͔̥̝͇̍̌͆͌̇͗̒ͪ̀͟͞Ḣ̴̵̢̜̹̰͕̘̮̗̟̯͚̝̺ͧ͂͆̈͋͛ͣ̍̌̂͋̌͐̔̚̚H̯̘̥͖͇͛͒ͨ̓̿ͣ̇ͣ͂ͭ͐͒ͧ̓͜͢͠͝H̡̞̯̳̮͕̰̬̬͎͔͍͇̗̟͚͖͓̐̽̿ͮ͋͊̎̄͑ͪ̆ͦ͑ͅḨ̸̢͒ͬ̓ͭ̔̏̽͐͏̮̣̗̗̩̤̖͇̻H̳̭̯̗̳̼̺̱̰͉͑̓ͨ̓͑͘͟͞Ḩ̢̪̥̙͈̥̙̝̱͐ͤ͂ͨ͋ͧ͛̓͗ͭͧ̋̃͌ͩ̌̒H̡̡̼̳͙͕̭̤̱͇͎̼̱̭̫̱͖͉̜͙̗̄ͤ͂̾̔̇̅̀̀̎ͦͥ̕͟H̸̷̨͈̪̮̜̙̮̊̐̆͋̕Ḩ̢̠̖̙̲̫̭̫̟̜͚̯̫͕̥͇͇̟̼̊̈́ͦͪͪ͊ͤ̄̔ͫ̒ͬͪ͊̓H̄̊̃ͪ̄̾ͫͯ̄́ͤ̈́̒̓͗̂̔̈̈͞҉̸̵͎̲͖͖̮͈̱̬̺͙̥͇̠͕̣͖͈͔ͅH̨̭̪̪̹͛̿ͬ̈͑͂͛͑̑͟͞H̴̡̛͔͍̲̤̣̯̩͚̟̰̞̻͔͛͐̓ͥͥͫͯ̆̏ͩͪ̐̌̓̄̀̓ͯ͞͞H̪̘̠̳͖͍̻͖̹̞̦ͨ̆ͫ̈͋̏̑͒ͩͥ͢ͅHͭ̈́̊̏̂̇̏̑̌̎̾̀҉̡̧̙̺͇̥̺̠̯̳͚̕͞H̡͇̖̝̣̼̞̗̘̳̲̯̗̫̥̖̠ͯ͆̋̿ͤ̍ͤ̉̆ͧ̐ͪ͟Ḣ̵͇̺̥̳͚̞̙͖̪̝̳̫̯̩̔̈́̆ͫ͐̏ͪ̍͌͗ͭ̀ͅḨ̸̨͚̳͚͓̦̪͓̜̅̒̾̂͊͆̋ͥ͗̽̔͑͆̏͟͞Ĥ̡͈̟̻̩̳̼̝̙̪̤̖̲̫̲͉͇̅̿͐͒͘H̡̢̲̻̳̬̲͚͕̦͉̹͇ͪ́ͬ̈̑̀ͭ͛̉ͤ̐H̨͉̩̭̞̘͚̭̪͋̌̂͑̈́̅̎̊̀ͅH̸̢̨̛̛̱̲̼͙̞ͥ̒͋́ͪ̉

D I S T O R T I O N

T H A T I S A L L T H E R E W A S

The entire realm around them broke and turned into reddening static as they stood in the void of degradation. This was NOT his realm to call his OWN. Not even Khala could stand to claim that. They were both subjects of deterioration and she was its embodiment ensuring that this construct of the universe remained true. Therefore, she would break the distance between the two, ram her blackened claws into Nevermore's body and seek to increasingly corrode and break away his essence with outright demonic strife, taint and power.

B R E A KB R E A K B R E A K B R E A K B R E A K B R E A K B R E A K B R E A K B R E A K

T H A T I S A L L S H E W A N T ED

BREAK AND BE DESTROYED.

A͇̰̹͍͉̬̩̝̯̦̟͚͈͎͔̮̓̈̾͟͠Ḣ͕̟͚̺̩̘͕̺̳̣̜͈͓̞͓̳̙̪͋̿ͩ͐ͪ͟͠H̷͒ͭ̓͛͂ͫͥ̀ͤͬ́̆ͯ͂͟҉̸̛̦̝̟̭͎͎̙͖̞͎̥̬̲̠̺̠ͅH̑ͤ͊͐̀̈́̈́̊̎ͨ͏̛̯͉̜̜̯̜̘̫͝ͅH̺͍͎͊̑͆̇̎͗̓̽̂̎͗̐̌͑͡H̨̺͚͍̺ͣ̎̔ͪ̆̑̈́͠H̸̖͎̱̺̥̻̤̦̹ͦ̃͛̆̽́̊̑̓̂̾̂̌̍͗ͯ͐ͭ͢H͓̻̦͓͐ͮͩ̌ͭ͛̇̇ͧ̊̒̀͜͡͞H̢̼̭͖̠͚̲̟͍̪̦̱̟̪̱̬̯͔̎ͤ̀͛͊̌ͩ͊̿ͣ̍͂̚͡H̨̧̻̰̱̣͉̦̬̰̜̮̹͔̥̝͇̍̌͆͌̇͗̒ͪ̀͟͞Ḣ̴̵̢̜̹̰͕̘̮̗̟̯͚̝̺ͧ͂͆̈͋͛ͣ̍̌̂͋̌͐̔̚̚H̯̘̥͖͇͛͒ͨ̓̿ͣ̇ͣ͂ͭ͐͒ͧ̓͜͢͠͝H̡̞̯̳̮͕̰̬̬͎͔͍͇̗̟͚͖͓̐̽̿ͮ͋͊̎̄͑ͪ̆ͦ͑ͅḨ̸̢͒ͬ̓ͭ̔̏̽͐͏̮̣̗̗̩̤̖͇̻H̳̭̯̗̳̼̺̱̰͉͑̓ͨ̓͑͘͟͞Ḩ̢̪̥̙͈̥̙̝̱͐ͤ͂ͨ͋ͧ͛̓͗ͭͧ̋̃͌ͩ̌̒H̡̡̼̳͙͕̭̤̱͇͎̼̱̭̫̱͖͉̜͙̗̄ͤ͂̾̔̇̅̀̀̎ͦͥ̕͟H̸̷̨͈̪̮̜̙̮̊̐̆͋̕Ḩ̢̠̖̙̲̫̭̫̟̜͚̯̫͕̥͇͇̟̼̊̈́ͦͪͪ͊ͤ̄̔ͫ̒ͬͪ͊̓H̄̊̃ͪ̄̾ͫͯ̄́ͤ̈́̒̓͗̂̔̈̈͞҉̸̵͎̲͖͖̮͈̱̬̺͙̥͇̠͕̣͖͈͔ͅH̨̭̪̪̹͛̿ͬ̈͑͂͛͑̑͟͞H̴̡̛͔͍̲̤̣̯̩͚̟̰̞̻͔͛͐̓ͥͥͫͯ̆̏ͩͪ̐̌̓̄̀̓ͯ͞͞H̪̘̠̳͖͍̻͖̹̞̦ͨ̆ͫ̈͋̏̑͒ͩͥ͢ͅHͭ̈́̊̏̂̇̏̑̌̎̾̀҉̡̧̙̺͇̥̺̠̯̳͚̕͞H̡͇̖̝̣̼̞̗̘̳̲̯̗̫̥̖̠ͯ͆̋̿ͤ̍ͤ̉̆ͧ̐ͪ͟Ḣ̵͇̺̥̳͚̞̙͖̪̝̳̫̯̩̔̈́̆ͫ͐̏ͪ̍͌͗ͭ̀ͅḨ̸̨͚̳͚͓̦̪͓̜̅̒̾̂͊͆̋ͥ͗̽̔͑͆̏͟͞Ĥ̡͈̟̻̩̳̼̝̙̪̤̖̲̫̲͉͇̅̿͐͒͘H̡̢̲̻̳̬̲͚͕̦͉̹͇ͪ́ͬ̈̑̀ͭ͛̉ͤ̐H̨͉̩̭̞̘͚̭̪͋̌̂͑̈́̅̎̊̀ͅH̸̢̨̛̛̱̲̼͙̞ͥ̒͋́ͪ̉

A͇̰̹͍͉̬̩̝̯̦̟͚͈͎͔̮̓̈̾͟͠Ḣ͕̟͚̺̩̘͕̺̳̣̜͈͓̞͓̳̙̪͋̿ͩ͐ͪ͟͠H̷͒ͭ̓͛͂ͫͥ̀ͤͬ́̆ͯ͂͟҉̸̛̦̝̟̭͎͎̙͖̞͎̥̬̲̠̺̠ͅH̑ͤ͊͐̀̈́̈́̊̎ͨ͏̛̯͉̜̜̯̜̘̫͝ͅH̺͍͎͊̑͆̇̎͗̓̽̂̎͗̐̌͑͡H̨̺͚͍̺ͣ̎̔ͪ̆̑̈́͠H̸̖͎̱̺̥̻̤̦̹ͦ̃͛̆̽́̊̑̓̂̾̂̌̍͗ͯ͐ͭ͢H͓̻̦͓͐ͮͩ̌ͭ͛̇̇ͧ̊̒̀͜͡͞H̢̼̭͖̠͚̲̟͍̪̦̱̟̪̱̬̯͔̎ͤ̀͛͊̌ͩ͊̿ͣ̍͂̚͡H̨̧̻̰̱̣͉̦̬̰̜̮̹͔̥̝͇̍̌͆͌̇͗̒ͪ̀͟͞Ḣ̴̵̢̜̹̰͕̘̮̗̟̯͚̝̺ͧ͂͆̈͋͛ͣ̍̌̂͋̌͐̔̚̚H̯̘̥͖͇͛͒ͨ̓̿ͣ̇ͣ͂ͭ͐͒ͧ̓͜͢͠͝H̡̞̯̳̮͕̰̬̬͎͔͍͇̗̟͚͖͓̐̽̿ͮ͋͊̎̄͑ͪ̆ͦ͑ͅḨ̸̢͒ͬ̓ͭ̔̏̽͐͏̮̣̗̗̩̤̖͇̻H̳̭̯̗̳̼̺̱̰͉͑̓ͨ̓͑͘͟͞Ḩ̢̪̥̙͈̥̙̝̱͐ͤ͂ͨ͋ͧ͛̓͗ͭͧ̋̃͌ͩ̌̒H̡̡̼̳͙͕̭̤̱͇͎̼̱̭̫̱͖͉̜͙̗̄ͤ͂̾̔̇̅̀̀̎ͦͥ̕͟H̸̷̨͈̪̮̜̙̮̊̐̆͋̕Ḩ̢̠̖̙̲̫̭̫̟̜͚̯̫͕̥͇͇̟̼̊̈́ͦͪͪ͊ͤ̄̔ͫ̒ͬͪ͊̓H̄̊̃ͪ̄̾ͫͯ̄́ͤ̈́̒̓͗̂̔̈̈͞҉̸̵͎̲͖͖̮͈̱̬̺͙̥͇̠͕̣͖͈͔ͅH̨̭̪̪̹͛̿ͬ̈͑͂͛͑̑͟͞H̴̡̛͔͍̲̤̣̯̩͚̟̰̞̻͔͛͐̓ͥͥͫͯ̆̏ͩͪ̐̌̓̄̀̓ͯ͞͞H̪̘̠̳͖͍̻͖̹̞̦ͨ̆ͫ̈͋̏̑͒ͩͥ͢ͅHͭ̈́̊̏̂̇̏̑̌̎̾̀҉̡̧̙̺͇̥̺̠̯̳͚̕͞H̡͇̖̝̣̼̞̗̘̳̲̯̗̫̥̖̠ͯ͆̋̿ͤ̍ͤ̉̆ͧ̐ͪ͟Ḣ̵͇̺̥̳͚̞̙͖̪̝̳̫̯̩̔̈́̆ͫ͐̏ͪ̍͌͗ͭ̀ͅḨ̸̨͚̳͚͓̦̪͓̜̅̒̾̂͊͆̋ͥ͗̽̔͑͆̏͟͞Ĥ̡͈̟̻̩̳̼̝̙̪̤̖̲̫̲͉͇̅̿͐͒͘H̡̢̲̻̳̬̲͚͕̦͉̹͇ͪ́ͬ̈̑̀ͭ͛̉ͤ̐H̨͉̩̭̞̘͚̭̪͋̌̂͑̈́̅̎̊̀ͅH̸̢̨̛̛̱̲̼͙̞ͥ̒͋́ͪ̉

A͇̰̹͍͉̬̩̝̯̦̟͚͈͎͔̮̓̈̾͟͠Ḣ͕̟͚̺̩̘͕̺̳̣̜͈͓̞͓̳̙̪͋̿ͩ͐ͪ͟͠H̷͒ͭ̓͛͂ͫͥ̀ͤͬ́̆ͯ͂͟҉̸̛̦̝̟̭͎͎̙͖̞͎̥̬̲̠̺̠ͅH̑ͤ͊͐̀̈́̈́̊̎ͨ͏̛̯͉̜̜̯̜̘̫͝ͅH̺͍͎͊̑͆̇̎͗̓̽̂̎͗̐̌͑͡H̨̺͚͍̺ͣ̎̔ͪ̆̑̈́͠H̸̖͎̱̺̥̻̤̦̹ͦ̃͛̆̽́̊̑̓̂̾̂̌̍͗ͯ͐ͭ͢H͓̻̦͓͐ͮͩ̌ͭ͛̇̇ͧ̊̒̀͜͡͞H̢̼̭͖̠͚̲̟͍̪̦̱̟̪̱̬̯͔̎ͤ̀͛͊̌ͩ͊̿ͣ̍͂̚͡H̨̧̻̰̱̣͉̦̬̰̜̮̹͔̥̝͇̍̌͆͌̇͗̒ͪ̀͟͞Ḣ̴̵̢̜̹̰͕̘̮̗̟̯͚̝̺ͧ͂͆̈͋͛ͣ̍̌̂͋̌͐̔̚̚H̯̘̥͖͇͛͒ͨ̓̿ͣ̇ͣ͂ͭ͐͒ͧ̓͜͢͠͝H̡̞̯̳̮͕̰̬̬͎͔͍͇̗̟͚͖͓̐̽̿ͮ͋͊̎̄͑ͪ̆ͦ͑ͅḨ̸̢͒ͬ̓ͭ̔̏̽͐͏̮̣̗̗̩̤̖͇̻H̳̭̯̗̳̼̺̱̰͉͑̓ͨ̓͑͘͟͞Ḩ̢̪̥̙͈̥̙̝̱͐ͤ͂ͨ͋ͧ͛̓͗ͭͧ̋̃͌ͩ̌̒H̡̡̼̳͙͕̭̤̱͇͎̼̱̭̫̱͖͉̜͙̗̄ͤ͂̾̔̇̅̀̀̎ͦͥ̕͟H̸̷̨͈̪̮̜̙̮̊̐̆͋̕Ḩ̢̠̖̙̲̫̭̫̟̜͚̯̫͕̥͇͇̟̼̊̈́ͦͪͪ͊ͤ̄̔ͫ̒ͬͪ͊̓H̄̊̃ͪ̄̾ͫͯ̄́ͤ̈́̒̓͗̂̔̈̈͞҉̸̵͎̲͖͖̮͈̱̬̺͙̥͇̠͕̣͖͈͔ͅH̨̭̪̪̹͛̿ͬ̈͑͂͛͑̑͟͞H̴̡̛͔͍̲̤̣̯̩͚̟̰̞̻͔͛͐̓ͥͥͫͯ̆̏ͩͪ̐̌̓̄̀̓ͯ͞͞H̪̘̠̳͖͍̻͖̹̞̦ͨ̆ͫ̈͋̏̑͒ͩͥ͢ͅHͭ̈́̊̏̂̇̏̑̌̎̾̀҉̡̧̙̺͇̥̺̠̯̳͚̕͞H̡͇̖̝̣̼̞̗̘̳̲̯̗̫̥̖̠ͯ͆̋̿ͤ̍ͤ̉̆ͧ̐ͪ͟Ḣ̵͇̺̥̳͚̞̙͖̪̝̳̫̯̩̔̈́̆ͫ͐̏ͪ̍͌͗ͭ̀ͅḨ̸̨͚̳͚͓̦̪͓̜̅̒̾̂͊͆̋ͥ͗̽̔͑͆̏͟͞Ĥ̡͈̟̻̩̳̼̝̙̪̤̖̲̫̲͉͇̅̿͐͒͘H̡̢̲̻̳̬̲͚͕̦͉̹͇ͪ́ͬ̈̑̀ͭ͛̉ͤ̐H̨͉̩̭̞̘͚̭̪͋̌̂͑̈́̅̎̊̀ͅH̸̢̨̛̛̱̲̼͙̞ͥ̒͋́ͪ̉

A͇̰̹͍͉̬̩̝̯̦̟͚͈͎͔̮̓̈̾͟͠Ḣ͕̟͚̺̩̘͕̺̳̣̜͈͓̞͓̳̙̪͋̿ͩ͐ͪ͟͠H̷͒ͭ̓͛͂ͫͥ̀ͤͬ́̆ͯ͂͟҉̸̛̦̝̟̭͎͎̙͖̞͎̥̬̲̠̺̠ͅH̑ͤ͊͐̀̈́̈́̊̎ͨ͏̛̯͉̜̜̯̜̘̫͝ͅH̺͍͎͊̑͆̇̎͗̓̽̂̎͗̐̌͑͡H̨̺͚͍̺ͣ̎̔ͪ̆̑̈́͠H̸̖͎̱̺̥̻̤̦̹ͦ̃͛̆̽́̊̑̓̂̾̂̌̍͗ͯ͐ͭ͢H͓̻̦͓͐ͮͩ̌ͭ͛̇̇ͧ̊̒̀͜͡͞H̢̼̭͖̠͚̲̟͍̪̦̱̟̪̱̬̯͔̎ͤ̀͛͊̌ͩ͊̿ͣ̍͂̚͡H̨̧̻̰̱̣͉̦̬̰̜̮̹͔̥̝͇̍̌͆͌̇͗̒ͪ̀͟͞Ḣ̴̵̢̜̹̰͕̘̮̗̟̯͚̝̺ͧ͂͆̈͋͛ͣ̍̌̂͋̌͐̔̚̚H̯̘̥͖͇͛͒ͨ̓̿ͣ̇ͣ͂ͭ͐͒ͧ̓͜͢͠͝H̡̞̯̳̮͕̰̬̬͎͔͍͇̗̟͚͖͓̐̽̿ͮ͋͊̎̄͑ͪ̆ͦ͑ͅḨ̸̢͒ͬ̓ͭ̔̏̽͐͏̮̣̗̗̩̤̖͇̻H̳̭̯̗̳̼̺̱̰͉͑̓ͨ̓͑͘͟͞Ḩ̢̪̥̙͈̥̙̝̱͐ͤ͂ͨ͋ͧ͛̓͗ͭͧ̋̃͌ͩ̌̒H̡̡̼̳͙͕̭̤̱͇͎̼̱̭̫̱͖͉̜͙̗̄ͤ͂̾̔̇̅̀̀̎ͦͥ̕͟H̸̷̨͈̪̮̜̙̮̊̐̆͋̕Ḩ̢̠̖̙̲̫̭̫̟̜͚̯̫͕̥͇͇̟̼̊̈́ͦͪͪ͊ͤ̄̔ͫ̒ͬͪ͊̓H̄̊̃ͪ̄̾ͫͯ̄́ͤ̈́̒̓͗̂̔̈̈͞҉̸̵͎̲͖͖̮͈̱̬̺͙̥͇̠͕̣͖͈͔ͅH̨̭̪̪̹͛̿ͬ̈͑͂͛͑̑͟͞H̴̡̛͔͍̲̤̣̯̩͚̟̰̞̻͔͛͐̓ͥͥͫͯ̆̏ͩͪ̐̌̓̄̀̓ͯ͞͞H̪̘̠̳͖͍̻͖̹̞̦ͨ̆ͫ̈͋̏̑͒ͩͥ͢ͅHͭ̈́̊̏̂̇̏̑̌̎̾̀҉̡̧̙̺͇̥̺̠̯̳͚̕͞H̡͇̖̝̣̼̞̗̘̳̲̯̗̫̥̖̠ͯ͆̋̿ͤ̍ͤ̉̆ͧ̐ͪ͟Ḣ̵͇̺̥̳͚̞̙͖̪̝̳̫̯̩̔̈́̆ͫ͐̏ͪ̍͌͗ͭ̀ͅḨ̸̨͚̳͚͓̦̪͓̜̅̒̾̂͊͆̋ͥ͗̽̔͑͆̏͟͞Ĥ̡͈̟̻̩̳̼̝̙̪̤̖̲̫̲͉͇̅̿͐͒͘H̡̢̲̻̳̬̲͚͕̦͉̹͇ͪ́ͬ̈̑̀ͭ͛̉ͤ̐H̨͉̩̭̞̘͚̭̪͋̌̂͑̈́̅̎̊̀ͅH̸̢̨̛̛̱̲̼͙̞ͥ̒͋́ͪ̉
A͇̰̹͍͉̬̩̝̯̦̟͚͈͎͔̮̓̈̾͟͠Ḣ͕̟͚̺̩̘͕̺̳̣̜͈͓̞͓̳̙̪͋̿ͩ͐ͪ͟͠H̷͒ͭ̓͛͂ͫͥ̀ͤͬ́̆ͯ͂͟҉̸̛̦̝̟̭͎͎̙͖̞͎̥̬̲̠̺̠ͅH̑ͤ͊͐̀̈́̈́̊̎ͨ͏̛̯͉̜̜̯̜̘̫͝ͅH̺͍͎͊̑͆̇̎͗̓̽̂̎͗̐̌͑͡H̨̺͚͍̺ͣ̎̔ͪ̆̑̈́͠H̸̖͎̱̺̥̻̤̦̹ͦ̃͛̆̽́̊̑̓̂̾̂̌̍͗ͯ͐ͭ͢H͓̻̦͓͐ͮͩ̌ͭ͛̇̇ͧ̊̒̀͜͡͞H̢̼̭͖̠͚̲̟͍̪̦̱̟̪̱̬̯͔̎ͤ̀͛͊̌ͩ͊̿ͣ̍͂̚͡H̨̧̻̰̱̣͉̦̬̰̜̮̹͔̥̝͇̍̌͆͌̇͗̒ͪ̀͟͞Ḣ̴̵̢̜̹̰͕̘̮̗̟̯͚̝̺ͧ͂͆̈͋͛ͣ̍̌̂͋̌͐̔̚̚H̯̘̥͖͇͛͒ͨ̓̿ͣ̇ͣ͂ͭ͐͒ͧ̓͜͢͠͝H̡̞̯̳̮͕̰̬̬͎͔͍͇̗̟͚͖͓̐̽̿ͮ͋͊̎̄͑ͪ̆ͦ͑ͅḨ̸̢͒ͬ̓ͭ̔̏̽͐͏̮̣̗̗̩̤̖͇̻H̳̭̯̗̳̼̺̱̰͉͑̓ͨ̓͑͘͟͞Ḩ̢̪̥̙͈̥̙̝̱͐ͤ͂ͨ͋ͧ͛̓͗ͭͧ̋̃͌ͩ̌̒H̡̡̼̳͙͕̭̤̱͇͎̼̱̭̫̱͖͉̜͙̗̄ͤ͂̾̔̇̅̀̀̎ͦͥ̕͟H̸̷̨͈̪̮̜̙̮̊̐̆͋̕Ḩ̢̠̖̙̲̫̭̫̟̜͚̯̫͕̥͇͇̟̼̊̈́ͦͪͪ͊ͤ̄̔ͫ̒ͬͪ͊̓H̄̊̃ͪ̄̾ͫͯ̄́ͤ̈́̒̓͗̂̔̈̈͞҉̸̵͎̲͖͖̮͈̱̬̺͙̥͇̠͕̣͖͈͔ͅH̨̭̪̪̹͛̿ͬ̈͑͂͛͑̑͟͞H̴̡̛͔͍̲̤̣̯̩͚̟̰̞̻͔͛͐̓ͥͥͫͯ̆̏ͩͪ̐̌̓̄̀̓ͯ͞͞H̪̘̠̳͖͍̻͖̹̞̦ͨ̆ͫ̈͋̏̑͒ͩͥ͢ͅHͭ̈́̊̏̂̇̏̑̌̎̾̀҉̡̧̙̺͇̥̺̠̯̳͚̕͞H̡͇̖̝̣̼̞̗̘̳̲̯̗̫̥̖̠ͯ͆̋̿ͤ̍ͤ̉̆ͧ̐ͪ͟Ḣ̵͇̺̥̳͚̞̙͖̪̝̳̫̯̩̔̈́̆ͫ͐̏ͪ̍͌͗ͭ̀ͅḨ̸̨͚̳͚͓̦̪͓̜̅̒̾̂͊͆̋ͥ͗̽̔͑͆̏͟͞Ĥ̡͈̟̻̩̳̼̝̙̪̤̖̲̫̲͉͇̅̿͐͒͘H̡̢̲̻̳̬̲͚͕̦͉̹͇ͪ́ͬ̈̑̀ͭ͛̉ͤ̐H̨͉̩̭̞̘͚̭̪͋̌̂͑̈́̅̎̊̀ͅH̸̢̨̛̛̱̲̼͙̞ͥ̒͋́ͪ̉
A͇̰̹͍͉̬̩̝̯̦̟͚͈͎͔̮̓̈̾͟͠Ḣ͕̟͚̺̩̘͕̺̳̣̜͈͓̞͓̳̙̪͋̿ͩ͐ͪ͟͠H̷͒ͭ̓͛͂ͫͥ̀ͤͬ́̆ͯ͂͟҉̸̛̦̝̟̭͎͎̙͖̞͎̥̬̲̠̺̠ͅH̑ͤ͊͐̀̈́̈́̊̎ͨ͏̛̯͉̜̜̯̜̘̫͝ͅH̺͍͎͊̑͆̇̎͗̓̽̂̎͗̐̌͑͡H̨̺͚͍̺ͣ̎̔ͪ̆̑̈́͠H̸̖͎̱̺̥̻̤̦̹ͦ̃͛̆̽́̊̑̓̂̾̂̌̍͗ͯ͐ͭ͢H͓̻̦͓͐ͮͩ̌ͭ͛̇̇ͧ̊̒̀͜͡͞H̢̼̭͖̠͚̲̟͍̪̦̱̟̪̱̬̯͔̎ͤ̀͛͊̌ͩ͊̿ͣ̍͂̚͡H̨̧̻̰̱̣͉̦̬̰̜̮̹͔̥̝͇̍̌͆͌̇͗̒ͪ̀͟͞Ḣ̴̵̢̜̹̰͕̘̮̗̟̯͚̝̺ͧ͂͆̈͋͛ͣ̍̌̂͋̌͐̔̚̚H̯̘̥͖͇͛͒ͨ̓̿ͣ̇ͣ͂ͭ͐͒ͧ̓͜͢͠͝H̡̞̯̳̮͕̰̬̬͎͔͍͇̗̟͚͖͓̐̽̿ͮ͋͊̎̄͑ͪ̆ͦ͑ͅḨ̸̢͒ͬ̓ͭ̔̏̽͐͏̮̣̗̗̩̤̖͇̻H̳̭̯̗̳̼̺̱̰͉͑̓ͨ̓͑͘͟͞Ḩ̢̪̥̙͈̥̙̝̱͐ͤ͂ͨ͋ͧ͛̓͗ͭͧ̋̃͌ͩ̌̒H̡̡̼̳͙͕̭̤̱͇͎̼̱̭̫̱͖͉̜͙̗̄ͤ͂̾̔̇̅̀̀̎ͦͥ̕͟H̸̷̨͈̪̮̜̙̮̊̐̆͋̕Ḩ̢̠̖̙̲̫̭̫̟̜͚̯̫͕̥͇͇̟̼̊̈́ͦͪͪ͊ͤ̄̔ͫ̒ͬͪ͊̓H̄̊̃ͪ̄̾ͫͯ̄́ͤ̈́̒̓͗̂̔̈̈͞҉̸̵͎̲͖͖̮͈̱̬̺͙̥͇̠͕̣͖͈͔ͅH̨̭̪̪̹͛̿ͬ̈͑͂͛͑̑͟͞H̴̡̛͔͍̲̤̣̯̩͚̟̰̞̻͔͛͐̓ͥͥͫͯ̆̏ͩͪ̐̌̓̄̀̓ͯ͞͞H̪̘̠̳͖͍̻͖̹̞̦ͨ̆ͫ̈͋̏̑͒ͩͥ͢ͅHͭ̈́̊̏̂̇̏̑̌̎̾̀҉̡̧̙̺͇̥̺̠̯̳͚̕͞H̡͇̖̝̣̼̞̗̘̳̲̯̗̫̥̖̠ͯ͆̋̿ͤ̍ͤ̉̆ͧ̐ͪ͟Ḣ̵͇̺̥̳͚̞̙͖̪̝̳̫̯̩̔̈́̆ͫ͐̏ͪ̍͌͗ͭ̀ͅḨ̸̨͚̳͚͓̦̪͓̜̅̒̾̂͊͆̋ͥ͗̽̔͑͆̏͟͞Ĥ̡͈̟̻̩̳̼̝̙̪̤̖̲̫̲͉͇̅̿͐͒͘H̡̢̲̻̳̬̲͚͕̦͉̹͇ͪ́ͬ̈̑̀ͭ͛̉ͤ̐H̨͉̩̭̞̘͚̭̪͋̌̂͑̈́̅̎̊̀ͅH̸̢̨̛̛̱̲̼͙̞ͥ̒͋́ͪ̉
A͇̰̹͍͉̬̩̝̯̦̟͚͈͎͔̮̓̈̾͟͠Ḣ͕̟͚̺̩̘͕̺̳̣̜͈͓̞͓̳̙̪͋̿ͩ͐ͪ͟͠H̷͒ͭ̓͛͂ͫͥ̀ͤͬ́̆ͯ͂͟҉̸̛̦̝̟̭͎͎̙͖̞͎̥̬̲̠̺̠ͅH̑ͤ͊͐̀̈́̈́̊̎ͨ͏̛̯͉̜̜̯̜̘̫͝ͅH̺͍͎͊̑͆̇̎͗̓̽̂̎͗̐̌͑͡H̨̺͚͍̺ͣ̎̔ͪ̆̑̈́͠H̸̖͎̱̺̥̻̤̦̹ͦ̃͛̆̽́̊̑̓̂̾̂̌̍͗ͯ͐ͭ͢H͓̻̦͓͐ͮͩ̌ͭ͛̇̇ͧ̊̒̀͜͡͞H̢̼̭͖̠͚̲̟͍̪̦̱̟̪̱̬̯͔̎ͤ̀͛͊̌ͩ͊̿ͣ̍͂̚͡H̨̧̻̰̱̣͉̦̬̰̜̮̹͔̥̝͇̍̌͆͌̇͗̒ͪ̀͟͞Ḣ̴̵̢̜̹̰͕̘̮̗̟̯͚̝̺ͧ͂͆̈͋͛ͣ̍̌̂͋̌͐̔̚̚H̯̘̥͖͇͛͒ͨ̓̿ͣ̇ͣ͂ͭ͐͒ͧ̓͜͢͠͝H̡̞̯̳̮͕̰̬̬͎͔͍͇̗̟͚͖͓̐̽̿ͮ͋͊̎̄͑ͪ̆ͦ͑ͅḨ̸̢͒ͬ̓ͭ̔̏̽͐͏̮̣̗̗̩̤̖͇̻H̳̭̯̗̳̼̺̱̰͉͑̓ͨ̓͑͘͟͞Ḩ̢̪̥̙͈̥̙̝̱͐ͤ͂ͨ͋ͧ͛̓͗ͭͧ̋̃͌ͩ̌̒H̡̡̼̳͙͕̭̤̱͇͎̼̱̭̫̱͖͉̜͙̗̄ͤ͂̾̔̇̅̀̀̎ͦͥ̕͟H̸̷̨͈̪̮̜̙̮̊̐̆͋̕Ḩ̢̠̖̙̲̫̭̫̟̜͚̯̫͕̥͇͇̟̼̊̈́ͦͪͪ͊ͤ̄̔ͫ̒ͬͪ͊̓H̄̊̃ͪ̄̾ͫͯ̄́ͤ̈́̒̓͗̂̔̈̈͞҉̸̵͎̲͖͖̮͈̱̬̺͙̥͇̠͕̣͖͈͔ͅH̨̭̪̪̹͛̿ͬ̈͑͂͛͑̑͟͞H̴̡̛͔͍̲̤̣̯̩͚̟̰̞̻͔͛͐̓ͥͥͫͯ̆̏ͩͪ̐̌̓̄̀̓ͯ͞͞H̪̘̠̳͖͍̻͖̹̞̦ͨ̆ͫ̈͋̏̑͒ͩͥ͢ͅHͭ̈́̊̏̂̇̏̑̌̎̾̀҉̡̧̙̺͇̥̺̠̯̳͚̕͞H̡͇̖̝̣̼̞̗̘̳̲̯̗̫̥̖̠ͯ͆̋̿ͤ̍ͤ̉̆ͧ̐ͪ͟Ḣ̵͇̺̥̳͚̞̙͖̪̝̳̫̯̩̔̈́̆ͫ͐̏ͪ̍͌͗ͭ̀ͅḨ̸̨͚̳͚͓̦̪͓̜̅̒̾̂͊͆̋ͥ͗̽̔͑͆̏͟͞Ĥ̡͈̟̻̩̳̼̝̙̪̤̖̲̫̲͉͇̅̿͐͒͘H̡̢̲̻̳̬̲͚͕̦͉̹͇ͪ́ͬ̈̑̀ͭ͛̉ͤ̐H̨͉̩̭̞̘͚̭̪͋̌̂͑̈́̅̎̊̀ͅH̸̢̨̛̛̱̲̼͙̞ͥ̒͋́ͪ̉

Ą̴̡̲͍̙̲̰̱͔͕͇̞̦̞̦̺͓̓̓̅ͥ̉ͅĤ̡̦̰̜̗͖̜̭͚̲͈̦͑͑͑͡H̸͉͕̺̟̪̻̭̯ͪͧ́ͤ̈́̇ͯ͛̌ͣ̊͘H̶̡̨͂̀͑ͩ͏̻̜̘̗̘͓̹̻͍̲̩̥H̷̷̨͚̖̪̜̰̥͕̜̔ͪ̇̓ͩ̈͑͌ͧ̎ͮ͊̀H̸̡̨̛͍͖̰̯̙͎̰͚̱̜͈̟̱̙̼͎͈͇͍̔̇́̌̄͆͑ͪ̆́̄̚̚H̴̸̢͈̯͖̰̬̪̮͖͓̘͈̦̦͙͈̣̝̤ͧ̔̿̋̊̅͗͡H̞͕̳̝̾͛ͧ͋́͟H̷̞̳̠̖͔̜̰̖̣̻ͧͤͯ͑ͦ͒ͭͮͧͯ͐̓͆͌́ͧ̀͠͡͠H̛̛̙̫̣͚̒̔̀̎ͬ̀͜͡H̥̖͉̦͎͙͉̬̣̝̩̰͇͚͙ͪ͐͆̆͂̍̿̽͆̇̿ͧ̃͟͞H͈̹̫͇͓̥̜̹͉͙̻̳̪͓̘̖̠̳̏ͪ͊̈́̎͂̊̎̅̐ͬ̀́́͡͡Ḩ̶̝̮̺̙̤͎̬̖̫̲̀ͮ̂̀̋̓̇̉ͯ͐̓ͭ̐ͫ̂ͨ̾̅́Ḩ̺͔̟̭͕̘̗͋́̎͋͛̔̐͌ͤ͒̈ͣ̚̕H̴̀̃ͦͮ̕͝҉̥͉̩͕̹̝̱̱̹̰̦̪̭͈H̢̳̳͇̱͕̗̙͎̣̺̫͈̤͋̄̋ͭ͑́͢͢͡H̶̶̋̾̾ͣͧ̊ͯ̈́͑ͨ̄̿̏ͥ̊͆ͮͮ͏͏͓̙̮͍̱͉̺͙̺̺̜̮ͅḪ̨̲̫̩̖̲̪̆̒ͪ̐ͪ̂ͦ̍͗ͥͥ̉̎̔͋̾́H̨͙͖͖̰̘̻̣̦̥̗͔̣̱̱͕͍͕̀̅ͩ̓̐̎ͅͅH̵̡̱͈̲̖̟̖͔͔̫̋ͮ̍̇̅̇ͩ̅ͪ̌̀̑̇̎̀̚̕H̨̡̰̖͖͎͇̟̻̙̣̩̫̗̘̬̽̓̓ͤ̂̾ͤ͘͠͡ͅͅH̴̟̼̞͚̯̜̖̩̹͖̜͎̱̱̳̠̪̆̔ͫ̉̓ͤ̄̅̋̈̚͘H̶̡̨͉̦̞̺͉̝̥̝͍̙̺̯̳̱͍̻ͬ̄̋̇̏͑̉͐̆͌̎͋̃͟͡ͅH̷ͭ̈́ͥ̍ͤ͂̀̕͏̡͚̙̙̳͍̘Ḩ̧̮̥̭̟͍͖͎̝̜̫̣͚̳̣̘̟͖̄̎̽̌̉ͨ͌ͣ͋ͭ̾ͭͥͩ͆ͬ̽̚H̡͚̖̥̭͇̯͓̮̫̼͎͙ͣ͆͊̃̓̆̇ͧ͊̍̒̓̎̚͞H̉̍̔̓͌ͣͥͥͭ̈́͂̐͑ͮͩͭ̑͋̓͝͏̗̥̲̻̀̀H̡̾̈́͆̂ͫ̏̃͛ͨͮͭ̚̚҉͏̛̭̬͕̼͚̗̭̰H̷̛̗͚̲͈̝̘͖̩͈͕̣͛ͨͦ̒̊̈̒̃ͪ͑ͮ̆ͥ̓H̡ͩͩͬ̈̊̾̚͏͈̤̻̼̙̞̺̥H̷̛͍͖̟̹̹̣͚̞̫̻̜̹͔͑ͤ̄̒̉ͭ̉̏̾ͭ͋̆̈̆ ͈̘̱̟͎̪̼̭̗̱̱̻ͯͯ́̀̍͂̐ͪ͊͑̍̒ͮͫ̌̇ͧ̚͡ͅE̵̗̜̤͍̱̱̫̺͇̫͛ͣ̓̑͋̊͊͒͒͢V̸͛̋̆͂ͮ̂̐ͤ͑̈́͢҉̡̧͉͕̪̜̼̗͎Ę̶̴̛̱̖̣͎̰̩̟͖̣̥͖̝̼͍͈̘̾̐͐ͩ̒̊̃̒ͫͪ̎͋͋̍ͯ̚̕R̡̔͆͛͋̓ͮ̈̅͑̕҉̩̼̲̬͇̲̮͎̤̤͉̼̳̖͔̱̟̗̥Y̝̗͈͖͓̖̙̪͖̲̜̯͕̥ͪ͊̐ͣ͑ͮ̽̃̀̍̓͛̉̎ͫͮ̕͢͞T̡̓́͆͊̚̕͡͏͔̪̞̖͇̞̹̠̝̲͕̠̣͖̲H̨͚̱̣̮̹͈̠̖̳̤̣̣̙̙͈ͫ͛̈̊̎͛̓̽̐̑͗̓I̵̧͔̝͚̼͉̣͛ͨ̇̋̂̈́͑́̃̑̋ͫͭ̅͌̈́̕Ṉ̶̨̤̯̮͎͖̭̞̝̙̠͙͍̟̙̙̣̘̃̀̏̈́͒̑̇̑ͣ͘Ǧ̵̡ͧ̃ͬ̕͜҉̺̥̩̺ ̳̖̯͍͓̺̱̞͍̠̲͋͐͋ͦ̕͘ͅÌ̵̵̵̻̺̟̯͉͉̜͖̳͒ͧͭ͡͝Ṡͩͬ͆͊ͫ̓̑̎̊̓͒̌҉̮̳̮͔͙̗͚̲͕͎̞͠ͅ ̆͗̒̾͌ͤ̓͐ͦ̀ͩ̽̐̚҉̮̜̫̤̕͘͜͝W̷̡̛̛̪̮͉͍͉̙̲̻̬̲̬̉ͫ̓͂ͮͫ̓ͪͅͅR̃ͮ̽̌͐͒ͫ̐҉̸̡͇͎͔̯͎̭̬͇͖̻̭̖́O̴̵̗̮̝̙͖̘̦͈͙̲̪̞̰͕̿ͭ̊͂̔͑̃̃̅̿͡͡N̨̢͎̩̯̣̘̹̲͊̂̉ͪ͊ͤ̀̐̉͛́ͤ̚͘G̡̒͊̂͗͐̾̋́ͥ͗̉̕͏͉̳̗͔̭̞̮̥͇̭͚͙̳

Fri Apr 08, 2016 8:04 am

NEVERMORE

The Painful Truth

It appeared… that Nevermore had obtained more than he had ever bargained for. And that included that consciousness which was now inside of him… that consciousness that was one 'half' of the only thing in this universe that was presently able to bind him. So I have you, then… It appears she did not know what she has done…

The newly born being meditated, preventing that consciousness from being taken into the abyss. After all, it held the one thing that Nevermore needed. How he longed to simply end this creature in front of him, to trap her in an infinite loop from which there was no escape. However..

What I Want…

It was a curse, a curse as vehement and powerful as any from a witch's brew. Nevermore was not able to leave her behind. That was The Truth. And more then that… it was a truth that she was still able to feel, because she had not severed it yet.

The fact that he was able to still resist the absolutely destructive urges from the female was in itself rather impressive. Iriko's resistance had come from the fact that he had held power no longer. That, combined with the fortitude of his mind, had kept him from this influence. Nevermore had gained his predecessor's fortitude, but he also had the temptation of power.

"Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely… this is The Truth."

It wasn't said to her; in fact, it wasn't said to anybody. It was simply something which occurred to Nevermore. Then my power must not be absolute… at least, not yet. Nevermore observed as the satanic light began to emit from the woman, to which he could only raise a single eyebrow in curiosity.

That energy sought him out, sought to connect with him, sought to inflict pain upon him… and it certainly touched him. The side of his face was obliterated, a searing noise accompanying it as he continued to watch her. "That won't hurt me."

That was all he told her, as the side of his face began to reconstruct itself rapidly, a smile reappearing on his face. "You… aren't able to hurt me." He told her as the realm around them began to break away, his self still standing there. "Because you closed off your heart. You can't hurt anyone any longer."

Those words passed straight between the bond which the two shared. Like it or not, it was a bond which had not been dispelled; and it was a bond which had caused the birth of this perverted Truth.

The light that had been eradicated began to glow all the brighter, golden flecks appearing within it as the satanic energy was mullified, causing for it to lose its sense of purpose. Purpose…? The male wondered, his eyes widening as the realm around them broke and shattered.

"… It's not mine?" That question came forth, as the being's attention was caught. She appeared in front of him, and her claws sought to devastate him….

"Useless, it's all useless." He told her directly, that right hand of his reaching out into the claw, pressing against it as it was… halted. A white light had stopped it in its tracks, flecked with bits of gold. It was a shield; a shield made out of 'wishes'. "You can't stop me. You don't have the Heart." With those words, Nevermore reached out, as the red static around them began to shift and change. The static began to disperse… and in its place was eyes. "You can't forget."

Nevermore's right hand reached to her side, before spinning his own body around hers. "Can't, can't, can't. You have become a being of can't." He continued, as he pressed his left hand against her… and released something different. A memory. His hand was scalded, ripping the entire limb off…

...No, I deny that. I deny that. I deny that. I deny it!

The broken body of a man, falling to pieces as his eyes remained locked with the one before him. Denial came overflowing from within himself, denial of the reality which the Demon God had presented to him. "Did you think I was no longer the same? All you killed… was my reluctance."

And with that, a peculiar energy would begin to stream from him. An energy with no discernable color or shape, constantly fading and shifting as it bled outwards into the world around him. ...What remains…? Something, something does… Or else, she would be easy enough to control… Something is keeping her tethered, still. Is it me…? Is it her children…? Each of these thoughts passed from him to her. Perhaps the most awkward part of it all was that she could see clearly each one of his thoughts, now.

Something does… Of course… I could always try to completely remove her ability to 'sense'… But that would not be allowed, would it…? After all… that would be the same as killing her… The being thought to himself, though if she were not completely blind she would easily be able to observe those thoughts as well. Perhaps the most peculiar thing was that his 'soul', the voice of that demonic bond, had not changed. It was still that of Iriko Crow. It had the same feelings, the same emotions, the same 'make up'. The only difference was that the gentleness which had always accompanied it had… disappeared.

In which case… we need to reach her… and make her doubt… Make her doubt…? His eyes slowly widened, the energy he had been releasing finally shining before it rooted itself into the realm itself like anchors.

"Denial… In the end, that is everything we are. Just as your decay denies everything, so too does my self wish to deny everything about that. That is The Truth."

Nevermore's body vanished once again, though this time he appeared in front of her. "...and if I have to… I will keep you here… until the very end of time… And this pain of yours will never end." He told her quietly, his right hand reaching out once more. Just as her presence sought to destroy and crush every part of his body…

The light held within that hand would… ameliorate. It was a healing presence, a light which sought to punish that which sought to harm. It was a light that sought to restore, a light which actively passed on pure emotion from Nevermore to her. An emotion that would likely make her sick, disgusted. It was an emotion of care, of wishing for her to be better... It was 'love'. It was also 'hope'. It was two things which Nevermore would not allow for her to turn herself away from or deny. And they were the two elements of his 'argument' which she would have to disprove, in order to stop him. It attempted to pass directly into her eyes, Nevermore's body shifting about before finally vanishing once again.

"...You… cannot harm me. And you cannot harm me because you can no longer feel pain." Nevermore told her, a small shell of light beginning to form around his body. "You cannot destroy everything. You believe… that is your purpose? Then why can you love?" He asked her, looking directly at her now. He did not expect a response of any kind. In fact, he rather thought the case would be the opposite.

"You cannot hurt everything. After all… there will always be those who rise above and beyond your definition of 'harm'. Do you believe that 'he' felt 'pain'…?" Nevermore asked her, the billowing of his cloak ceasing for a moment as his expression grew solemn. "He did. He felt pain. But he didn't feel pain from you stabbing him. That didn't do a single thing. The only pain he felt was for you." Nevermore told her, before his right hand clenched.

"You let yourself become a source. You weak, pathetic thing. That is The Truth."

With those words, all of Nevermore's energy returned to him once again, before a blue presence began to leave from him. Creation, destruction… And my self… what is my purpose here…? What is my own purpose? Am I just the final wish of some pathetic, abandoned Shinigami…? Nevermore wondered to himself, before sitting down.

"I am not going to play your game. If you really wanted to be alone, you would go somewhere remote. You wouldn’t bother with any of this. The person you are lying to the most, is your own self. It is little wonder you believe that you are an embodiment of 'yang'. After all, if you cannot keep lying to yourself, you would lose the purpose that you are convinced you have. Therefore, all you can do is attack and lash out. Some 'divine being'."

Nevermore finally finished, sitting there as he watched her. Most likely, she would just attack him again. However, within him, something was also beginning to occur. Something had been harbored, sheltered. Something which even now was being given sustenance and light. Something… that would likely anger the being in front of him. After all…

She was one half of what Nevermore had to do. And now… he could protect her, so long as he himself remained alive. ...Will that be a challenge…? It would seem so… of course… if she truly wished to destroy me… But until then... I will continue to challenge her reality... After all... that is my purpose, is it not...? His eyes slowly came to a close, before awaiting her next assault...

Core Elements Devised by Aivee

Mon Sep 05, 2016 1:00 pm

[PLAY POSTING MUSIC]

T H E S O U R C E

Artist: Kagamine Rin - Song: O Light

Strangled and buried within the depths of Nevermore lay the old conscious of Khala. It was faint, weak and muddled; but it still existed. That much was an objective fact of this reality. This fact, however, was not one which -- whatever this thing was -- cared for. It didn't effect or change anything it was intending to do. It wasn't quite sure what or who it was anymore, but it knew it's ambitions and what it needed to do to further the spread of it's black desires. She could feel entire realms of existence beginning to buckle, shift and alter from the allure of The Black World and this radical evolution was more than on the horizon.

So, even as the male attempted to drown and submerge this version of Khala within the deluded notions of Truth's logic, it would not have any affect on her because this simply was the same Goddess he was accustomed and used to. It was a beast of a different nature and it's corruption ran deep within her essence and the world it tethered itself to. Hence, her revolution and rebirth could not be stopped by the bonds of his law and way.

As, while the male was not wrong in the fact that power corrupts, there was power in corruption and it was one of the strongest principles in this universe. Everything corrodes, break down and dissolves into nothing, malfunctions or otherwise changes and becomes a radically different creature than the day it was born. That was the nature of this turbulent existence and Nevermore could never fathom coming to grips with such a thing.

Words were so useless in a world where absolution doesn't exist. Every bit of his essence screamed that and tried to coddle, change and contort Khala into something she was not. It was ridiculous and absurd to observe. The heart of this goddess was not closed in the slightest. It was open, bare and exposed for all to see it's empty contents. There was nothing inside her essence and that was what this creature preferred. To be blank, hollow and released of everything birthed her into a proper demon befitting the title as their creator. There really wasn't much else to her for the time being as the entity which stood before Nevermore absolved herself of the desire to waste precious resources contemplating such a state of being.

So as he tried and tried to continue to jog the memories of this barren embodiment, there simply wasn't anything to trigger as this cluster of demonic flesh which stood before him had nothing to remember. There were instincts, knowledge and reflection which brewed within her being; that much was certain. However, the greater part of this beast cared not for them and discarded them as quickly as they emerged within herself. It's why Khala could only stare idly at the actions and words that Nevermore continued to spew out time and again.

"..."

Keep her here? Seal her here?

Absurd.

There was little chance of him containing Khala's existence to her own domain. In the mind of The Goddess, she could accept such a thing if she were playing by the rules of the Soul Society or The Living Realm. However -- this was Demon World. More specially: the essence of hell itself. To believe he had any sway in keeping her suppressed here was delusional at best; while the notion of it being successful was hopeless and futile in reality. For it is said that most Hell Beast possess a strong sense of reality manipulation within the realms they control. And, in the case of Khala, this applied even more so throughout the final layer of hell.

Hence, all it took was the scattering of her divine energy in order to begin transmitting her thoughts into the reality around them. These particles of sacred energy would carry out the will of Khala and begin to erase and remove the presence of Nevermore's influence. Granted, this was all done under one condition: to not kill him. There was a high amount of pain surging within Khala's essence. And, while it was true that she could discard it, this pain was serving as a constant reminder of her former self's presence within her. And this self did not desire to kill Nevermore despite the impulses to destroy him from the present being before Nevermore.

Therefore, baring all of these facts in mind, the only solution Khala came to in this moment was to, in fact, seal him here instead. Hence, she would wave out her right arm and simply begin to imprison Nevermore within a world of total darkness. This was being down by her own reality manipulation and she was intending to use it to keep him down here for days, weeks or possibly even months or years. This embodiment of Khala's primal essence was not in the mood to hear any such illogical rhetoric from him. She did her duty, she killed Iriko and it was time for this farce to go away and get out of her sight. Even if she couldn't kill him, that didn't mean she couldn't tamper with his existence. As he was in a similar predicament as herself with the attachments of that slug still lingering about within his soul as well.

All that was left to do was to lay this layer of hell, seek out her kingdom and begin to reconnect with those in the effort of trying to revitalize The Black World. She had no time for the past; as that was burned, buried and a made to be a distant memory in this Godling's history. What she was now was so much more than what she was in the past. She was empty, clear and ready to face her demented future with the most foul of intents. And nothing was going to cease that plan.

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