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2/17/2025 12:06:22 AM
11
*Thire squints at the letter before turning to Aifos*
“You know full well I don’t speak magic voodoo junk, don’t you?”
[spoiler]DDLC was a nice touch.[/spoiler]
English
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*as you attempt to read the words on the valentine, twisted images enter your mind* *you see a life you did not live, one of suffering and misery, of all your dreams within arm's reach, yet crumbling away as you reach out to grab them* *you see your body twist, and bend, and break, metal and bone withering away to rust, and ash* *pain surges through your body, as though every inch of your being was torn asunder* *you see yourself reborn, and you see your life play out once again, until you find yourself back at this moment* Well, it didn't used to be magic voodoo junk, but see, then my piano caught on fire, and it was pretty expensive so instead of getting a new one I did a sacrifice or two to bring it back. And the valentines. They caught on fire, too. But it's fine. Everything's normal. There will be no negative consequences, I'm sure. [spoiler]It played on my walk to work on Valentine's, so I decided to sing it for Offtopic, too. Then no one showed up. Which is when everything lit on fire.[/spoiler]
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Well then, I appreciate the Valentine, despite how…. burnt and magic-y it is now. On a definitely unrelated note, my brain hurts.
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*Aifos does not respond. He stares mindlessly into the distance, as the song loops over and over, sounding as though it's a thousand miles away. The valentines had since melted into a viscous black goop, including the one that was in your hand. The ichor on your hand pulses rhythmically like a heartbeat, and you can feel it slowly pulling towards the rest of the ichor that now stains the floor, and is slowly climbing up the piano, wanting to return to the mass* *it sings to you, in a song that does not exist*
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“Aifos? Aifosssss? Aifos. Aaaaaaaaifos?” he asks over and over again stupidly. *Thire makes his way over to the ichor and reaches out to it* “Eh, I always wanted to be part of a horror movie.”
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*As you draw closer, the ichor draws you in even further, crawling up your arm, pulling you deeper. Deeper. Deeper.* *You hear its voice more clearly now, speaking in words you do not know, yet somehow you understand the meaning. It's calling you home, to be One.* *Darkness takes you.* *You see nothing.* *You feel nothing.* *You hear nothing but it's voice, it's song.* *This is where you belong...* *Together.*
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“Sick.” *He allows the darkness to envelop him, to take his body as its own so that they may be One. He doesn’t need his weak flesh. There is no more Thire.*
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*You fall deeper and deeper into the darkness. The first thing to go is your sense of time. Whether you were falling for seconds, or for decades, you do not know. You know that you are, and that is all. The next to falter is your sense of space. You are falling, yet you are rising, spreading out, and compressing all at once. Before long you no longer the remember the rules of the world you once inhabited.* *A vast expanse of nothingness stretches in all directions. It is beautiful, and it puts you at ease.* *[b]IT HURTS! YOU WANT IT TO STOP, YOU NEED IT TO STOP![/b]* *Your body unwinds, your soul dissipates. "You" ceases to exist. This is the way it was always meant to be.* *[b]YOU FEEL EVERY FIBRE OF YOUR BODY AS IT UNWINDS! FLESH STRIPPED FROM MUSCLE, MUSCLE STRIPPED FROM BONE! AGONIZING PAIN RUNS THROUGHOUT YOUR ENTIRE BODY![/b]* *The being that was once "you" has now become "Us"* *We are happy* *[b]WE WANT THIS TO STOP![/b]* *This is what we always wanted* *[b]IT HURTS! IT HURTS! IT HURTS![/b]* *We are no longer afraid* *Joy and misery intermingle, and We can no longer find where one emotion ends, and another begins* *Suffering is peace* *Tranquility is pain* *This is what it means to be Us* *This is what it means to be free* *This is what it means to be home* *The others must return home as well*
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“We don’t feel so good anymore…” *They begin to question their past decisions and wonder if this plan was fully thought through.*
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*Our thoughts turn to silence* *there is no longer any regret, no longer any questions* *We accept the way things are, but our time here is finished* *We melt away into the ocean, waiting to be called upon again*
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Welp, there goes Thire. He got too silly.
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Edited by The First Aifos: 2/19/2025 5:22:14 AM[b][i]ROLL CREDITS![/i][/b] [i]Every day, We imagine a future where We can be with Us! In Our hand, is a pen that will write a poem of Us and Us! [u]Aifos as, The Guy Who Lit His Piano On Fire![/u] The ink flows down into a dark puddle, Just move Our hand, write the way into Our heart. And in this world of infinite choices, What will it take just to find that special day? What will it take, just to find... That special day? [u]Thire as, morbid curiosity gone too far![/u] Have We found, everybody a fun assignment to do today? When We’re here, everything that We do is fun for Us anyway. When We can't even read Our own feelings, What good are words when a smile says it all? And if this world won't write Us an ending... What will it take just for Us to have it all? [u]The Piano as, the instrument through which the dark magics were channeled![/u] Does Our pen, only write bitter words for those who are dear to Us? Is it love, if We take Us or is it love if We set Us free? [u]Emil as, an image on one the valentines! It never got handed out.[/u] The ink flows down into a dark puddle. The ink flows down into a dark puddle. The ink flows down into a dark puddle. The ink flows down into a dark puddle. [b]The ink flows down into a dark puddle. The ink flows down into a dark puddle. The ink flows down into a dark puddle. The ink flows down into a dark puddle. THE INK FLOWS DOWN INTO A DARK PUDDLE. THE INK FLOWS DOWN INTO A DARK PUDDLE. THE INK FLOWS DOWN INTO A DARK PUDDLE. THE INK FLOWS DOWN INTO A DARK PUDDLE. A DARK PUDDLE. A DARK PUDDLE. A DARK PUDDLE. A DARK PUDDLE. A DARK PU-[/b][/i]
