misterhix (
misterhix) wrote in
nexus_crossings2016-11-03 10:47 pm
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"The King Neverwas!"
It doesn't really look like anything but it is certainly there, a shape you know but don't see. The fluff is real, or more an idea of what fluff is. The teeth constantly grind giving the impression of "It" being stressed but then again that could only portray an idea, not proof. How would a thing like this even conceive of stress?
For all it knows it may not even exist.
The crown is real and yet it is transparent, like an image of a thing painted on glass. The illusion of a thing.
It is in the heart of the plaza, it is here, all can see it and soon a small group come to gaze at the sheer oddness of it's being.
It floats ten feet square and dripping a substance onto the floor from matted clumps of what can be imagined to be hair or fur.
The being itself is still but for the mild drifting up and down so methodically important to the illusion of floating that it might be doing it on purpose.
It is aware of the people and aware that they are aware of it. It has begun to realize itself and in the budding moments of it's first ever thought it feels an overpowering surge within itself, a driving force with no destination and no rudder.
What does a being that was not even aware it could be a moment ago say?
Without moving it's massive jaws the words carry on the very winds of consciousness to all who are near.
"BEHOLD. I AM!"
For all it knows it may not even exist.
The crown is real and yet it is transparent, like an image of a thing painted on glass. The illusion of a thing.
It is in the heart of the plaza, it is here, all can see it and soon a small group come to gaze at the sheer oddness of it's being.
It floats ten feet square and dripping a substance onto the floor from matted clumps of what can be imagined to be hair or fur.
The being itself is still but for the mild drifting up and down so methodically important to the illusion of floating that it might be doing it on purpose.
It is aware of the people and aware that they are aware of it. It has begun to realize itself and in the budding moments of it's first ever thought it feels an overpowering surge within itself, a driving force with no destination and no rudder.
What does a being that was not even aware it could be a moment ago say?
Without moving it's massive jaws the words carry on the very winds of consciousness to all who are near.
"BEHOLD. I AM!"
no subject
"I AM THAT IS AND ALWAYS WAS!"
A particularly long chunk of soggy hair/flesh slapped onto the floor.
"YOU ARE WHAT IS AND HAS NOT BEEN LONG."
Hanging in front of him the being tilted slowly and stopped there at an angle.
no subject
Turning his attention back to the creature he tilts an eyebrow at it. "That isn't something I've been accused of often; youth." Although that does depend on whether or not the being knows what he is as well as what he looks like. "Are there more of your kind?"
no subject
In one reality a great noise was heard, like a call with nothing to answer it. In another a violent shockwave quakes the ground. In others the being vanished and was never seen or heard from again. In one reality it simply stopped and remained so, becoming a strange monument to lamentation itself. People sat with it and sang to it others prayed and told it secret things. In the coming eternity it is still there when people have long forgotten what it was or what world had been there when it arrived.
However in this reality it simply adjusted itself and replied.
"I AM ALL THAT ARE."
no subject
As it is, his line of questioning isn't getting him much in the way of useful information. He still has little to no idea about the thing. "If you can answer simply, perhaps you can tell me what it is you want?"
no subject
Pulling its awareness out and back in time it tried to spy a thing it desired, a feeling or an object. Nothing really satisfied, there were things it could converse with and things it could observe and be quite content until the end of itself but it did not actually WANT these things. Then it came to an understanding.
It began to answer but only a jumble of half formed words spilled out for a moment before it recalled this one's desire for a simple answer.
It gave it some thought, floating gently as a pile of pink soggy hair grew on the floor underneath it.
"I WANT TO EXPERIENCE."
The subtle difference between "simple" and "vague" was not yet fully understood by it.
no subject
A thought occurs to him and he shifts his weight, peering at the creature. "But try to avoid hurting anyone when you seek it out. That can cause problems. The bad sort that you don't want coming after you." A warning is a meagre substitute for a defined moral compass, but it will do.
no subject
"I KNOW OF NO PROBLEMS."
It continued in its booming voice that made no audible sound.
"I DO NOT HURT!"
no subject
"Well. For experiences..." He turns around to scan the area, pointing in each appropriate direction as he lists off places. "That street is lined with bars and pubs. Over there is a rather nice theatre. And the wilderness, of course, that is always a pleasant experience."
no subject
"TO DRINK, TO TAKE PART, LAUGH, BECOME LOST IN THE SELF, POISON THE BODY, KILL, SUICIDE, UNDO THE PROCESSES OF THE MIND, SICKNESS, WANTON DISORDER."
Then further to the forests and woodlands. It felt the thoughts of the animals and birds. The commanding pheromones of insects that govern their actions. Even the slow intentions of the plants and trees, every bit as violent and desperate as any other being.
"THE CLUSTER OF LIFE YOU CALL WILDERNESS IS SUFFICIENT FOR ME."
It then examined the forms and ways of those things in the wild places of this world. It took note that its form was not compliant with the general structures associated with them.
Any sufficiently powerful entity in tune with the flows of energy might notice a rush of air, like a back draft, sucking in towards the being as it hovered in the plaza.
no subject
The thing's preference of the wilds is a little surprising to him. It doesn't look natural to him, or perhaps it's natural but in an unusual form. Better to say it looks alien to him whereas nature is incredibly familiar. He looks the being up and down, unsure what to make of it, barely noticing the gust of wind while he tries to figure out the entity in front of him. "Good choice."
no subject
In the heart of the broken pile of matter there was a large egg that immediately fractures and from it sprang a mass of tendrils that weaved into a human form, though much taller than the average human. They incorporated pieces of the broken shell like armour, on the chest, pelvis and head, arms and legs. Accenting joints and such.
It's head was not wholly unhuman with the typical features marked by depressions and protrusions but all through it the red veins worked in and out of it. Knitting the being together.
It all happened in maybe a second and a half before it stood there in front of Reynard as if nothing peculiar had happened at all.
"CHOICE IS ALL, ACTION IS. GOOD IS IDEALS, MALLEABLE, SUBJECTIVE, YOU ASK A QUESTION IN IT. WHAT IS GOOD?"
Two answers would be better than one. The other timeline would grant this one perspective. It however did not perceive of this, it merely knew it had asked the same question twice and that it asked both at the same time to different people in different realities.