#breakdawn

“You’re — you helped us, at the end.  When Barnabas...”  TRIED TO TAKE HER BACK.  Amber might not have won, if not for this stranger, and Collei would be back in the hands of the monsters that made growing up a living hell.  She hadn’t seen his face, but the hair is enough.

Knowing what kind of culture the USA is, if I went there, what kind of attention would I receive? The normal kind.

Best I don't go.

Evaluation complete. Event attendance rebuked.

What do I do if I feel like women are trying to set me up with their faggot friend and have no respect for me at all?

I leave.

...

Well... at least you tried to do the whole thing. I don't really see any point to filling out any more of these questions. Find a different activity.

I'll stay in.

Sounds good.

...

That's all these village savages can really offer me. They don't know in America. There is no culture or sophistication here. There are not intelligent to appreciate the higher qualities of life. They really do believe it is all that other thing which does not interest me because how much that pales in comparison.

I'll take care of myself while I am here, thanks.

I spend a lot of my time pacing. When I am not actively posting, I am usually pacing back and forth. I like to imagine that the house is moving me away from this place and everyone and everything. To somewhere in Story where I would rather be where things happen sometimes the way they are supposed to--the good way, with justice and victory and hope.

I wish the USA would go a-way.

Doesn't it reminisce of First Blood (1982)? The pig at fault, supreme dickhead evil stupid not knowing how bad his behavior is, crawling around in the ceiling at the end, like Trump in our government.

They struck first blood, Captain, not me.

When it breaks, I likely will disappear into Far East Asia into some remote jungle wilderness and abide joyously ecstatic at a monastery as a monk learning and teaching what I know. You will see the horror, and if you want to know where I am, you will know it''s something like that because I don't want you checking, and I know you will.

I will be far away from you and hopefully that will be good enough.

Arrangements for something like that can only be made after the Breakdawn. We don't have time to plan or make agreements with the criminal party. Once they are removed, then we can open the real discussions about what needs to happen.

The USA was not worth it if it ever allowed someone like Donald Trump and that Congress Senate abomination to do as they do. It is not worth it. That kind of power in the hands of those kinds of people defeats all purpose of anything. All of civilization is defeated with that kind of corrupt degenerate activity in that kind of place of civil sanctity.

"We wanted to take away his life source."

"So you destroyed the government systems that protected everyone's rights. Well, it seems he has another life source anyway. Two of them, if the Roman Catholic Church ever fails."

Realistically the expectation is to go once a year. ONCE A YEAR. To a single routine daily service. Usually multiple times a day on Sundays too.

It's actually not as bad as many of y'all want to assume, and thank the Lord Almighty they are never trying to actually push you into any of the gayness. It's pretty much all designed to help you destroy those vile god damned beasts and annihilate them from your life with spiritual tools of violence against invisible evils. They are a god damned plague and they interfere with the necessary exchange for life.

That is unacceptable.

Way better than the American bull shit, that's for sure, and nothing is stopping you from picking from their eats too and enjoying them with more depth, more meaning, more purpose, more heavenly grace, and making sure they are watching you enjoy it more too.

(You could knock out every single requirement for the entire year in a single Christmas service if you take it seriously, and do the Christmas thing too. Then you could be "good for the entire year". It's really not all the terror that people are afraid of. The facts and doctrines are uncompromising and enforced, but your life is yours, and nobody is ever trying to take that from you as if you are a figment of their imagined "god power".)

If I ever tried to do anything that required more than three civil steps of a process, that thing would fail because of betrayal by the fourth step when a circumcised person would take offense and be atagonistic as an evil mindless mutilated freak slave.

As a matter of fact, they usually go out of their way with a small, simple, casual gesture feeling powerful in their workplace, but are wholly ignorant of the widespread devastation such malignant beliefs cause when acted upon.

That kind of erratic sudden behavior they usually do not think about before they do it is why you should never employ them or grant them citizenship, friendship, anything. They are evil, godless, monstrous, freaks, and require extermination. Those interruptions have vast widescale consequences. It's not nearly as crude and simple as their monstrous ape mind seems to understand by equating GOD with perverse sexuality.

The irony is: that is why they believed their conspiracy to be so genius, and their grasp at world domination so secure, because they could effectively do that to torture and attack a single man as the embodiment of their universal prejudice. Their hatred for "natural man" in the typical Judaizer mimicry of the Christian gospel. The Christian gospel teaches good news concerning universal love, truth, and acceptance. They most certainly do not want people to know about that so they can exploit sexual and cognitive insecurity against poor, illiterate, and less privileged people and offer them circumcision while taking money, sex, and a lot of civil property that they don't really know was protected by the authority of Law in general, which is not circumcised even remotely.

no matter how much they want their slaves to believe that. This is of course why the government agents call themselves "gods" when they enslave people with systematic torture, coercion, and exploitive labor.

They actually call themselves "gods" and expect someone like me to submit my heart, mind, and soul to their will-- some paid government slob sitting behind a computer watching a bunch of application screens with various ports open into my private life so they can observe my movements as a person and attempt to manipulate me.

They find it unthinkable to have to admit to what they are doing to the public, and I find it unthinkable that they would ever have wanted to do such a thing, let alone actually scheme to do it.

How much longer is this going to take?

You people are slavers, not spiritual "gurus" with all your military tools to force yourselves on the innocent and wicked alike.

You think I wouldn't want my share of the treasure, you vile god-damned beast?

Exploitive labor is the legal definition of what your "secret government projects" are that are so "vital to national security". You are using me as a military object in your plans and not paying me.

You have not even asked me to do anything to help. You have not once acknowledged me as a human being. The entire time I have been nothing more than a crude object to the president to play with and manipulate in his mind like any plastic or stone toy on a game board.

People did that in ancient times. That is what the story of Kratos killing the gods is all about. Strange you don't know that, but you probably kicked those folks out, didn't you? By force, violence, coercion, and brute stupidity thinking that was what justified those people to be there and not you because they arrested some criminal you thought was a victim.

To most clearly describe what they are doing is to say that they are exploiting my video game work as an individual popular celebrity to profit most obscenely off of my popularity and talents without giving any single bit of their ill-gotten gains back. Not even a thanks. Nothing. They expect me to be grateful to them for what they are supposed to be grateful to me after stealing "personal information" with a most treacherously selfish and vile conspiracy.

How do those people survive that long in life?

“Every other relationship is secondary to one’s relationship to the Tsaritsa.  If a friend or lover deserts, you’re expected to hunt them down and kill them as a loyal Fatuus — and if they die in action, you’re expected to be proud of them, to wish to emulate them, for offering even their life in service to her.”  Their head dips as she sharpens her polearm.  A morbid topic, but...one which informs what makes the Fatui so different than the militaries in other nations.  The obedience is so deep - rooted...  

It’s been hard — to sleep, that is, since she came back.  Since Margo.  Everything in the world feels hard, even with Diluc doing what he can to lessen the load.  He’d even talked to Elysia for her, when she’d shown up at the winery furious and searching, terrified for the not - quite - a - friend who’d disappeared, still injured, from her home.  (  it’s strange, for niya, to imagine that people can worry for her, be driven to tears with it the way elysia had been.  diluc worried.  elysia worried.  sylvie, she’s told.  even nine, just a little.  )  The nightmares aren’t abating, and Niya wakes every night screaming or hallucinating or both.  Tried to kill Diluc once, thinking he was one of her doktors, about to restrain and harm when all he’d been doing was embracing.  They’re afraid to sleep, to fall back into memories of Margo or of Serafima or Scaramouche and out of what ever is left of their self.

(  a parade of bloody images and having her ribs torn out — that’s all their life is.  all they are.  they didn’t always realize that.  )

It’s been hard to sleep, and Diluc can see how she skirts it, sitting in his bed — he’d set up a guest room but they kept wandering into his room, anyway, so this is just where they sleep now — with her hands around her knees, eyes wide and seeing nothing.

“You should rest,” he says, carefully.  He’s not good at being gentle, or he’s afraid to try and risk being bad, but his voice is soft nonetheless, and he crosses the room to reach the bed’s side.  His hand is slow when it raises — slow, so he can be sure they see it coming — to brush gently through their bangs, pushing the too - long strands from their eyes.  Niya’s head shakes, a quiet sound of refusal passing their lips.  “I’ll be there when you wake up, Lizabeta.”

The name is — the name helps.  Lizabeta.  Lizabeta.  It’s getting easier to hear without thinking of the fool and their own scream.  

They’re too tired to feel pathetic when they ask, voice small, “promise?”

Diluc smiles, just a little.  “I promise.”

She wakes feeling like a corpse.

She usually feels like a corpse / that’s what happens when you are one, but it’s worse now.  Throat stuffed with cotton, head aching and sharp and bleeding, she can tell.  Her muscles scream and burn, the scars beneath the bandages on her arms stinging sharp.  (  being dead hurts.  )  Eyes blink open, too - green / too - bright, and memories flit back, slow ———

One of the Fatui that hung around Mondstadt recognized them.  It’s so unlikely it almost loops back around to being funny — he knows a particular scar on their jaw, a little nick.  It spirals.  Niya finds out and kills him before he can get that information back to anyone that matters, but not before he can get some other Fatui on his side.  Niya is good at killing, even when outnumbered.  But not that outnumbered, and not when two of them are Cicin Mages, and killing even one puts them back strapped to an operating table on the bad day.

She — lost control.  Killed them all, and passed out not long after if the way her memories stutter and then halt is any indication.  Expected.  But then why is she in a bed and not the dirt?

She catches sight of red hair as she sits up, head pounding, and winces as the pieces slot together.  Of course it would be him.  Diluc must have found them.

His coat is still around their shoulders.  They tug it tighter around them, not sure if it’s to manipulate, appear vulnerable and give him lesser reason to hurt her — Diluc wouldn’t, not a lesser, punitive man, and she’ll remember this in a few minutes when she’s operating less on instinct — or if it’s because it’s warm and smells like something familiar.

        ❝ come now master ragnvindr, are you certain you want to turn down my mora? ❞ a honeyed tone / a challenging gaze / a smile with teeth, isn’t this how they’ve ALWAYS BEEN? always? yes, yes, yes. always ——— in this lifetime. ( before and back then and prior to is another place and another time and another set, another pair, light and dark and always together, you never saw one without the other, my dear brother. ) he leans his elbows ostentatiously against the bar top and le—ans, tapping a coin against it. to many the action would seem absent, but they know that diluc knows better. perhaps even has guesses as to why kaeya has darkened the doorstep of angel’s share so very late. or early, depending on perspective. ❝ i am a paying customer after all. ❞

3:54 19|05|2020