Current Residence: Immediately behind you.|
Shell of choice: Electron
Personal Quote: "Ha! No."
The Litany of ISo you want me to tell you how it goes? It's alright. Not everyone figures it out. See, it starts with a problem and solution. And like most things do, it's the solution that makes things worse.The Litany of I by Isengim
The rocks cut my feet, so I will make shoes.
My back it weak, I will make a crutch.
The wind bites my skin. I will make a cloak.
See a pattern yet? Hold on, it gets better.
My skin is vulnerable. I will make armor.
My legs tire. I will ride a horse.
My fists are weak. I will make a sword.
Ah, now we're getting somewhere. Now try these on for size.
My voice is weak.
My faith is weak.
My will is weak.
Well. That's an evolution. Waves from ripples, you might say.
My kind is soft.
My spirit lacks.
My self is weak.
And that was the end. There was no coming back from it, the supposition that we could
After the FallMorning comes achingly slow. The sun percolates above the Sierra Madre, shining sodium-flavored glare across the cityscape below you. There didn't used to be mountains there, you think. It's hard to be sure these days.After the Fall by Isengim
The invitation was left on your windowsill the night before; a map drawn on a napkin, a feather, and a pack of cigarettes. It's only an invitation because you can see it that way. You imagine there are hundreds of invitations left around the cities, discarded as junk. Most wouldn't see the pattern in it. Their loss, you think. You tap out the first cigarette and light it with a match struck against the wall. It tastes of cinnamon and longing. The next will taste better, you tell yourself.
Every map needs two things: orientation and a point of reference. Origin and vector. Compass rose and landmark. You unfold the map slowly, as if afraid to disturb it too much. You've been waiting a long time for a map like this one. It was drawn with a fine-tipped pen, on a napkin like