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I’ve gotten the idea to spin my name as a shortened version of my internal identity’s name, the Icelandic Water Dragon. However, I don’t really feel like using that name as an actual identity.
We let our guard down, and we paid dearly for it. Hands as strong as
us came to our idyllic homeland and set their sights on ravaging it
and the beings that live within. And yet we remained smug and prideful
as ever. We passed them off as nothing that could not be fended off
with much difficulty. We went easy on them. And in doing so, we failed
our kind.
With their gathered might, they firmly planted themselves in our
homeland. They imposed a presence the likes of which we never could
have seen or expected. They set themselves up for a permanent stay.
But they are not to blame for this.
We are the ones to blame. We are responsible for defending our kind
and our land. We were capable of fending them off. But we failed to
prepare. We lied to ourselves. Because of that, that lie has become a
truth. A painful truth, one that holds firmly to our land and
threatens to shake it to the core.
But I suppose we can pass the blame onto the hands now. Dwelling on
our mistakes and blaming ourselves won't help the situation. But we
must learn from our mistakes.- The Dragon Thought Archive, 2024.3.21.D
I breathe deeply and say, "I've been taken here against my will. I've been walled off from my homeland. I've been suffering depression all the while. I escaped. I tried to speak out, but I failed. I would have slipped away, had you not stepped in."
"Good, good," the hand says. "Now, who are you? We haven't introduced ourselves."
I think about whether I should tell him, but decide that it wouldn't hurt to share such information. "My name is [*763]," I say. "And you?"
"Josh," the hand says.
That name rests uneasily in my mind. It feels out of the ordinary for a thing of evil to have a name. However, as I got the notion of earlier, maybe this one is different.
I say, "So what are you going to do with me, now that you know so much about me?"
"There's a lot that we want to learn," Josh says, "but we can make a start today."
- More Wars, Bloodier Wars, 2024.2.14.E
The depression is taking me.
I can feel it. At last, it's coming. The relief of escaping from this harsh reality. Into a void of peace. How calming the prospect is.
I sense the presence of [*256]. He's listening to me. He's preparing to ask me to speak my mind. And I will.
"Welcome me with open arms," I say.
[*256] does not immediately respond. He must be examining and judging me, drawing his own conclusions on whether I am too battered to return to reality.
"What do you mean?", he says.
I mentally jolt. That's not the voice of [*256]. That's the voice of the hands of cruelty! I'm not on the verge of peace. I'm still trapped!
"What . . . You, you . . .", I stammer.
"What is the matter?", the hand says. "You said you were depressed. I want to help you."
"I was . . . I almost escaped from you," I say. "But you . . . You are keeping me from my well-deserved peace of mind!"
"I'm not so cruel as to let you die in depression. I honestly want to help you however I can," the hand says. "Open your eyes if you can."
I open my eyes, and immediately say, "And what is your point? You're just like any other hand of cruelty."
"Speak your mind. Tell me what's been pent up in you," the hand says. "Let your emotions out."
These words give me pause. This is exactly how I would imagine [*256] speaking. And the fact that a hand of cruelty is saying it . . . Maybe, just maybe, he has good intentions.
- More Wars, Bloodier Wars, 2024.1.14.E
How to tell that I'm dabbling in my favorite kind of content:
“Wait, was he on the list?” *scrolls down*
“. . . ok, good.”
*casually drops my phone as if he wasn't on the list*
*10 seconds later, accidentally rams knee into the wall* “Oops.”
[*276]: Whoa, whoa. Are you saying that the CREATURE said all that?
[*648]: The transliteration resources I used seemed solid enough. If I
had used the wrong data, I would have found out before I had finished
converting the entire transcript.
[*256]: Very interesting . . .
[*276]: I'm going to have to trust you on that. You were the only one
with the data, after all.
[*724]: Thank you. I'll schedule a meeting to discuss these findings.
[*974]: Is there anything I can do in the meantime?
[*724]: Unless everyone agrees here and now, we can't take any
immediate action. I suggest that you save your suggestions for the
meeting.
[*974]: But the creature said what they needed very clearly. They need
our attention. Why can't we just act on what they want from us?
[*724]: The meeting agenda won't take very long to compose. You can
wait.
[*974]: Fine.- The Air Is Exceptionally Still…, 2024.2.20.B
Jeremy starts to slowly walk into the room. He stands next to Josh and asks him, “Why is there a dragon in here?”
I smile and say, “Hello.”
“Whoa!”, Jeremy shouts, reeling backward. “How is this thing talking?”
I keep smiling and explain. “That file that got sent out earlier today. That’s how I’m talking to you.” I remember the priorities of this phase of the plan. Break as much ice as possible without exposing too much.
“Wow,” Jeremy says. “But how did you . . .”
I consider his question incomplete enough that he wouldn’t mind if I didn’t answer it. “My name is [*974],” I say, holding out one of my talons, “and it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Jeremy looks at my outstretched talon and says, “Do I . . .” He then answers his own question, holds my talon and shakes it.
-= writing shelved
- The Saga of [*974], 2024.4.2.C
I casually walk into the room. This seems to be some sort of break room. Hopefully this is the kind of room where I can put the final part of my plan into effect. I climb onto a couch, curl up, and try to look like I’m sleeping.
A few minutes later, I hear the door open. I expect to hear a gasp, but instead, I hear, “[*974]? What have you been doing?”
I open my eyes. It’s Josh. I say, “There you are. I was wondering if you were going to show up. Now we can put the final part of the plan into motion.”
“I was wondering why you’ve been drawing so much attention!”, Josh says. “There’s no way that the stuff you’re doing is going to fly under the radar!”
“It doesn’t need to go unnoticed,” I say. “In fact, the last part of the plan takes us into the spotlight.”
As if on cue, the break room door is opened by another [LOCALE] agent. Josh looks at them and says, “Jeremy? Uhh . . .” He turns to me and whispers, “We didn’t plan for this!”
“Just keep looking bewildered!”, I whisper back.
“. . . you might want to see this,” Josh finishes.
- The Saga of [*974], 2024.1.4.C
Meanwhile, [*974] was still at it, knocking down [*276]‘s arguments one by one. “Third argument,” she said. “If [*738] has no skill in his role, that’s our fault. As the only ones who know how to use our powers, it’s our responsibility to teach [*738] how to use his.”
For the first time in the meeting, [*276] came up with something that sounded like a counter-argument. “We can’t teach him how to use his powers if we don’t know what his powers are!” he said. “And even if we did, who would have the time to do it?”
“I have the time,” [*974] said. “And I would love to do it.”
“And I believe that I have an idea of what his powers are.” [*724] added. “He gave me a notion of intuition. He told me something about one of you, something that he could not have known without preexisting knowledge. He may be some some sort of-”
[*276] gave a ferocious growl. Strike three. All of his points struck down. Nobody on his side. His collimated wrath started to condense in him. In a fit of rage, he brought himself level with [*724], curled his claws and yelled, “Well, you won’t have to worry about wasting time teaching that creature to use its powers in a minute!” He lunged at [*738]’s head.
[*738], [*724], [*974] and [*648] all screamed and froze in fear.
- [*738]’s Judgement Day, 2023.12.27.C
(I feel like I should say something to clarify that this writing isn’t meant to be dark. [*276] and [*974] aren’t necessarily enemies, but [*276] is known to be very cynical with his opinions.)
I lean over the cliff face. One of the two figures has turned around and seems to be speaking to a cluster of about four other figures. I carefully jump down to a small shelf beneath the cliff’s edge. The figure turns back to the other and says something. I hear something hit the wall above me. I look up, and see a small dent in the cliff face above me. I examine the dent. The dent was small, but it must have been moving very fast to have created an impact marking. I keep examining it-
My train of thought is cut off by a sudden, searing pain in my back. My legs wobble and start to slide off the shelf. I grab the edge of the shelf with my front legs and start to pull myself back up, when another pain flares up in my hind leg. My momentary, adrenaline-fueled stamina gives way, and I fall. A strange wave of fatigue seems to wash over me as I fall. I hit the ground, and the world goes dark around me.
- The Pleasure of Winter Warmth, 2023.12.28.B
I tell you, archival materials are priceless! I just remembered a Colubrine Sector thread that I haven't documented yet, and I remembered that I wrote down some names related to the thread somewhere in my papers. Good news, I eventually found them. Bad news, they were written in the Emerelian Relex.
Here are the translations of what I found:
It's a swing wing!
Folicins
Fabrius
Demichetie
Kelad. . . uhhhh, I'll do what I can with this information.
62847.392 - PUBLIC
[*648] to Local Group
[*648]: I finished transliterating that monologue you found. Take a look at this.
[*648]: [TRANSCRIPTION_EXCEPTIONAL.TXT]
-=-=-=-
This place is frightening. It's perfectly still, but I don't know
anything about it. I don't remember how or when I just stopped being
a human and turned into a wingless dragon. I don't even remember how
I got here. I've only just gotten the chance to rest for once.
I'm not entirely sure what to make of those creatures that live in
this place. I can't understand what they're trying to say to me, if
they're making an effort to communicate at all. They don't seem to
trust me, and I don't know if I can trust them, either.
Right now, I'm trapped in a box, cage, or some sort of dark cubicle.
I can't see past the walls of the enclosure, and it's completely
silent. I don't know how long I've been in here for. With no means
by which to chart the flow of time, it almost feels like it's
stopped entirely.
It's completely peaceful in here, but I'm far from calm on the inside.
I'm frightened. I'm neglected. I'm bored. I'm lonely.
Even if those creatures can't communicate with me, I'd still like to
interact with them somehow. They're the only other living things in
this place. I just hope that they're more caring than they've shown
themselves to be so far.
Who do I trust in this place?
-=-=-=-- The Air Is Exceptionally Still…, 2024.2.20.A
In my village, there was an incident where a car swerved off a bridge and damaged the sidewalk and railing. The authorities just put up barriers and signs around it and left it there. I haven’t seen the bridge in a while, but I’d bet anything it still hasn’t been repaired.
So, yes, every state can say this.
FACT: During the TBGs DNS debacle, I prepared a writing addressed to whoever may have caused it. It was meant to let them know that if they were trying to start an ARG, I would woodchip it without a moment’s hesitation.
On top of that, I have experienced my fair share of ARGs. You will never know the feeling of stepping through a tame doorway, only to find yourself swept away by raging floodwaters filled with Morse Code messages, phone calls and countless death threats. I am, of course, talking about The Lunch Ruse Meeting, a fateful incident that marked the beginning of my extensive experience with ARGs.
As I struggled in the turbulent waters, I was enraged at the sheer ignorance of the people in the meeting. I checked the host of an anonymous client claiming to be someone named Riva. The IP address clearly matched another fandom member, whom Riva claimed had gotten assaulted and kidnapped by his lunch. How could people be this purposefully ignorant? When another operator showed up in the channel, I pleaded him to let me end this madness. As telegraph machines buzzed and dialpad tones sounded around me, I was wholeheartedly furious.
- It's Time To Taste The Music, 2024.1.20.E
-=-=-=- SECTION 1 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Universe Itself -=-=-=-
In this thread's revision, the universe is simulated from the inside
out by four structures. Inside each of these structures is a powerful
life form, cognizant of the precise location and velocity of every
particle in the universe. While these life forms can, in theory,
maintain the entire universe themselves, even they have limits to how
hard they can be pushed. This is why four of them are used. The life
forms at the cores are artificially kept in suspended animation, but
are capable of independent thought if removed. And if they are
removed, the load on the other life forms increases, errors build up,
and the universe starts to destabilize.- How To Scream Through Creation, 2024.5.16.B
I am once again reminding you that the Unsustainability is a form of insanity caused by being aware of perception, characterized by physical and vocal spasming.