Horicabu
lil Imp
Music, should it please you.
These words echo time and time again through the darkness, bouncing off cold walls. You can't move. You've been here longer than you'd like to admit, bound in this tiny space. All you know are fuzzy images, memories that don't seem to belong to you. Vague pictures swirl in the emptiness. They are lit by something your eyes have never seen; light. You've waited here, wondering, thinking, maybe even dreaming.
But something is different. There are sounds coming through the walls; walls you never imagined had another side. Little creaks and groans surround you, as the little world you've come to know begins to loosen. Tiny cracks appear. Streaks of white rake across your skin. They hurt your eyes. You feel pain. The walls are relentless. They keep moving, loosening their embrace, and the white beams just get bigger and brighter. Your arm flops free.
Suddenly, in an explosion of radiance, the walls are gone and this blazing flame...this light, is all there is. Something rushes up, and you slam into it. That feeling of pain rocks your whole body. It's overwhelming; curling, writhing inside you. For the first time, you tense up, you move under your own power. You crumble up into a ball, squeeze your eyes shut.
Why can't the walls come back and keep you safe anymore? Why does the light you yearned for hurt so much? Why does anything hurt? You rock back and forth, just wishing it would all go away, and that the walls would come and swaddle you again.
And eventually, the pain does go away. Gathering strength, you open your eyes, and see.
...
The world has gotten much bigger. It's angular, flat. You know it to be a room. There's a plain you rest on, a floor, which buckles up into pipes, grates, and blocks of machinery that form intricate patterns over unfamiliar walls that surround you on three sides. The fourth side doesn't seem to end. Off in that direction, your little floor stops and a deep pit continues. Above the abyss, little pods hang haphazardly on metal struts as far as you can see. The rough shapes of a half-formed face adorn their front. Between them weave structures and conduits many times larger than you are, rising up and dipping down like serpents from a black, empty sea. That harsh white light filters down from something high above. It's silent; completely silent.
There's something off about the pods. Many are oddly shaped. They seem almost...broken. Enormous holes and fissures line most of the small, coffin-shaped cells. The vaguely human features hammered into the pods are distorted and skewed, ripped open and dripping with something red. Figures hang from some. One dangles from a single limb, swaying above nothingness. It limply falls out of sight, and a second later, a painful crash resounds through the facility as the body hits ground.
The room changes as though agitated by the disturbance. The light brightens suddenly and painfully, accompanied by the cacophonous roar of machines grinding to life. Through the painful glare, you see pods screeching along the ceiling. They stop in front of you, and open in unison. Everything goes quiet again.
Five figures drop before you, hitting the floor with dull thuds. They writhe and cough, unexpectedly introduced to this harsh, enormous, and bizarre world. No doubt they, too, wish for the sweet, painless darkness.
You can feel a bond between them. You have empathy and an understanding.
They need you, and you need them.
- |:+:|-
Man and Monster, Silver and Gold.
All that is will end, and death, it seems, is inevitable.
Glory. Glory to the Wheel.
All that is will end, and death, it seems, is inevitable.
Glory. Glory to the Wheel.
- |:+:| -
These words echo time and time again through the darkness, bouncing off cold walls. You can't move. You've been here longer than you'd like to admit, bound in this tiny space. All you know are fuzzy images, memories that don't seem to belong to you. Vague pictures swirl in the emptiness. They are lit by something your eyes have never seen; light. You've waited here, wondering, thinking, maybe even dreaming.
But something is different. There are sounds coming through the walls; walls you never imagined had another side. Little creaks and groans surround you, as the little world you've come to know begins to loosen. Tiny cracks appear. Streaks of white rake across your skin. They hurt your eyes. You feel pain. The walls are relentless. They keep moving, loosening their embrace, and the white beams just get bigger and brighter. Your arm flops free.
Suddenly, in an explosion of radiance, the walls are gone and this blazing flame...this light, is all there is. Something rushes up, and you slam into it. That feeling of pain rocks your whole body. It's overwhelming; curling, writhing inside you. For the first time, you tense up, you move under your own power. You crumble up into a ball, squeeze your eyes shut.
Why can't the walls come back and keep you safe anymore? Why does the light you yearned for hurt so much? Why does anything hurt? You rock back and forth, just wishing it would all go away, and that the walls would come and swaddle you again.
And eventually, the pain does go away. Gathering strength, you open your eyes, and see.
...
The world has gotten much bigger. It's angular, flat. You know it to be a room. There's a plain you rest on, a floor, which buckles up into pipes, grates, and blocks of machinery that form intricate patterns over unfamiliar walls that surround you on three sides. The fourth side doesn't seem to end. Off in that direction, your little floor stops and a deep pit continues. Above the abyss, little pods hang haphazardly on metal struts as far as you can see. The rough shapes of a half-formed face adorn their front. Between them weave structures and conduits many times larger than you are, rising up and dipping down like serpents from a black, empty sea. That harsh white light filters down from something high above. It's silent; completely silent.
There's something off about the pods. Many are oddly shaped. They seem almost...broken. Enormous holes and fissures line most of the small, coffin-shaped cells. The vaguely human features hammered into the pods are distorted and skewed, ripped open and dripping with something red. Figures hang from some. One dangles from a single limb, swaying above nothingness. It limply falls out of sight, and a second later, a painful crash resounds through the facility as the body hits ground.
The room changes as though agitated by the disturbance. The light brightens suddenly and painfully, accompanied by the cacophonous roar of machines grinding to life. Through the painful glare, you see pods screeching along the ceiling. They stop in front of you, and open in unison. Everything goes quiet again.
Five figures drop before you, hitting the floor with dull thuds. They writhe and cough, unexpectedly introduced to this harsh, enormous, and bizarre world. No doubt they, too, wish for the sweet, painless darkness.
You can feel a bond between them. You have empathy and an understanding.
They need you, and you need them.
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