Micolash, Host of the Nightmare (
grantuseyes) wrote in
nexus_crossings2017-10-12 07:51 pm
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This Mortal Coil
Micolash is in the Nexus Plaza, thankfully looking cleaner and smelling better than the last time he'd been asking questions. The cage is still in place, of course; why would it not be? He even looks a little healthier! Not much, as his skin is still sallow and gaunt over angular bones and features. But at least not as unsteady and proportionally more alert as well.
He's not quick to ask a question, however. The scholar is instead on a sofa, long legs pulled up onto the seat with him and folded in front of him. The rest of the sofa, normally big enough to seat three, is piled with books. Easily two dozen, if not more. A glance at the covers that are visible will show a selection of possibly recognizable names: Erwin Schrödinger. Charles Hartshorne. René Descartes. David Ray Griffin. The one he has open on his knees right now is a collection of Thomas Aquinas' summae and related theories.
The scholar is content to immerse himself in this reading for hours on end, but eventually, he seems to recall where he is. And that he can ask questions if the fancy takes him.
"What do you think. Or believe. Happens after death?"
Getting RIGHT to the heavy stuff, it appears.
He's not quick to ask a question, however. The scholar is instead on a sofa, long legs pulled up onto the seat with him and folded in front of him. The rest of the sofa, normally big enough to seat three, is piled with books. Easily two dozen, if not more. A glance at the covers that are visible will show a selection of possibly recognizable names: Erwin Schrödinger. Charles Hartshorne. René Descartes. David Ray Griffin. The one he has open on his knees right now is a collection of Thomas Aquinas' summae and related theories.
The scholar is content to immerse himself in this reading for hours on end, but eventually, he seems to recall where he is. And that he can ask questions if the fancy takes him.
"What do you think. Or believe. Happens after death?"
Getting RIGHT to the heavy stuff, it appears.
no subject
"As far as where I had been: the Nightmare Frontier. Namely, my Nightmare of Mensis, formed by my will and shaped by Mergo. I'd stumbled across the talent for it quite by accident. I'd simply found myself..." His eyes start to lose focus around now, smile falling gradually, perhaps lost in whatever memory this is? "...needing someone to talk to. The faculty were no longer who they were in the Waking, formed into a new purpose upon arrival. I did not fault they or Mergo that; he requires attendants, protection. And the rest-..." He stops. Thinking back to the discovery of a giant mass of evil, unblinking eyes and rotten meat, tufted with irregular human hair, useless ribbon-like arms that ended in six-fingered hands, the anguish that this mass would exude without ceasing...
Micolash shakes his head, trying to dislodge that memory and carry on. "What a wonderful talent to discover, though! Just a thought, a wave, and they would spring upright like puppets, beholden to my direction. And just as easily dismissed, when their presence wore thin." When the madman remembered he was talking to nothing but suspended, tattered corpses, that is.