Post by Wixspartan on Dec 8, 2023 4:43:44 GMT
It woke up in a room. Such a strange feeling to wake, such a new feeling. The mind reached out to its body, feeling the muscles, commanding the lungs to breathe and the heart to beat, that would at least be a start. With a start the body jolted to life, its muscles spasming with the unfamiliar commands. It fell off the bed and twitched on the floor, the mind panicked, this wasn't right, it should be free not trapped in a cage of flesh and bone. It tried to push its way out before suddenly a pain shot through it. That's right, breathing, beating heart, this brain needs oxygen. Slowly the mind and body rose in a kind of simultaneity and blinked its eyes. A circle of candles surrounding a strange crystal, this was its crystal wasn't it? Never mind, pick it up anyway.
The body stumbled around the room for a while, trying to make sense of all these new feelings. The worst was the temperature, not particularly cold and not particularly hot, but completely alien to the mind, its tendrils never having connected into the nerves of a living being. It counted itself lucky that the vision of this cage was at least familiar, and my what it could see. Sigils of the realms outside of realms, Deep Speech some would call it, at least these were familiar, except for one repeated on every surface. It took a mental note before spying a small letter perched on the windowsill. Instinctively the mind reached out and pulled the letter drifting and floating through the air in front of it. As the letter began to unfold itself the mind balked as it tried to read the alien words on the paper. Suddenly it felt a twitch in the brain, interesting, it seems this body isn't quite dead, even if it isn't fully alive just yet. The words unblurred themselves and became clear. "Common" it seems was a language just like any other, fascinating.
Artur. Those sigils, correction letters meant something to this body. The mind began to think, the letter slowly twitching and drifting around it as it did. Perhaps it would have to find this Abigail, or perhaps not. But whatever it did this room was likely to be its grave if it could not sustain the flesh it was now trapped in. So, out into the world, to see what strange society this "Artur" resided in, to blend in and adapt to what the mind now knew to be its new home.
The body stumbled around the room for a while, trying to make sense of all these new feelings. The worst was the temperature, not particularly cold and not particularly hot, but completely alien to the mind, its tendrils never having connected into the nerves of a living being. It counted itself lucky that the vision of this cage was at least familiar, and my what it could see. Sigils of the realms outside of realms, Deep Speech some would call it, at least these were familiar, except for one repeated on every surface. It took a mental note before spying a small letter perched on the windowsill. Instinctively the mind reached out and pulled the letter drifting and floating through the air in front of it. As the letter began to unfold itself the mind balked as it tried to read the alien words on the paper. Suddenly it felt a twitch in the brain, interesting, it seems this body isn't quite dead, even if it isn't fully alive just yet. The words unblurred themselves and became clear. "Common" it seems was a language just like any other, fascinating.
"My Dearest Artur,
Why do you lock yourself in your room, never opening your door even when I pummel my knuckles bloody? Why do you hide from me? I promise I still love you no matter what sickness has taken you, please just come back to me my love. I beg of you please just open your door for me. If I finally tire too much to stand you will find me at my home, our home.
Your dearest love,
Abigail"
Why do you lock yourself in your room, never opening your door even when I pummel my knuckles bloody? Why do you hide from me? I promise I still love you no matter what sickness has taken you, please just come back to me my love. I beg of you please just open your door for me. If I finally tire too much to stand you will find me at my home, our home.
Your dearest love,
Abigail"
Artur. Those sigils, correction letters meant something to this body. The mind began to think, the letter slowly twitching and drifting around it as it did. Perhaps it would have to find this Abigail, or perhaps not. But whatever it did this room was likely to be its grave if it could not sustain the flesh it was now trapped in. So, out into the world, to see what strange society this "Artur" resided in, to blend in and adapt to what the mind now knew to be its new home.