sweet sunflower.

besides, all this plant is made of ivory, and your cat would never hang stuck in a tree again. if you sink deep enough into your dream, yes, you can realize she disappeared while you were fixing faucets; but you barely have time to react when there’s some strange man on a ladder helping her out.

it’s kind of off. it’s a dream, sure, but you don’t dream superheroes, and nobody from any group, not even isilugar, takes to dressing like that. not even the transcended — not ever, actually. additionally, you’re not quite sure why that man has a ladder on hand, or where he got it from, because you don’t think it’s from settlement 17. but instead of thinking, you hear a creak, see movement in the ladder on its vertex; and you rush to the scene, helping to make sure it doesnt fall. you hope the man’s okay. actually, you immediately sign that after.

    this is a dream that isn't a dream, nor a nightmare, it's something straight out of your mind and you've seen it dragged out before. you know these spectres, tall and towering in the distance; they hold hands and look at a house in ruins with long, long faces. the one concern has taken their hearts and the yellows of the flower field away. you screw away with your wrench, and the sunflower takes long to bloom, but you do it with desperation in your work and the shadow with a one-handed sword shrieks away.

     so everything changes: bubbles float, you've sunken down, and like one of the few friends you've known, this mind thinks you've reached rock bottom. but it’s the same thing as before. the lips around you want to speak, echoing their ancestral rites and their procreation and marriage; you spin electricity into sunflowers and that priestly shadow cannot harm you.

     and then there comes the enemy - the "enemy" you never considered as one, the moon with him as fragmented as ever, a skeleton of the one concern in the distance, and you rush so fast to wind up the gears that he can't do a thing. ( but you don’t know if you can breathe. )

     you hesitate when the scene changes. who appears is too familiar a face, crackling with ivory and not shade like the rest. you can’t really tell why she’s here in full form, and not a husk or anything like such.

     agent black should not be a figure in your own dreams, or your mind. not here. not a single finger moves. not a single weapon even dares to fire -- for you, anyways. after all, all you can feel is the fear wrapping around your hand.

     you’re just a little bit ( kind of. a lot. really ) afraid.

     is this...? no, it isn’t an effect of transcending. royal wouldn’t lie. that would mean reducing someone to a shell or a skeleton, and that’s not what transcending does. not physically.

     but you are in settlement 17, at home where everything is lush but fine again, just barely ( it’s a surprise that people just go back to living their normal lives even when their religion and government is a wreck ) ; so... well, you’ll be fine. there’s no harm in wondering why you’ve opened the door to him, so you stand ( hopefully strong; you’re probably shaking ) and ask:

neutral good - 90%

you are more of a modern kind of good. you are willing to break or use the law to defeat those you see as evil, and, though you prefer the truth, you are willing to lie to get those who are evil imprisoned or exposed. if you are working for an evil villain, you most likely are using him as a way to stop greater evils.

test ! test 

uhhhh test yeah . sick

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