#devoursinfinity

Kite wasn't sure what he was doing. But he did know it was something he needed to do....The Bracelet flashed idly around his wrist, but it wasn't causing pain and so he knew it was mostly a result of his own apprehension over what he was doing. It amazed him every day how in tune the bracelet was to him, more than it was The World itself at this point. He figured it had been that way since he opened the book, but now in the second revision, it clung to his data like one of his own limbs. Another flicker pulled him from his thoughts, reminding him of his goals.

He was seeking Skeith. Because if he didn't then his own terror would eat him alive before Skeith had a chance to.

He'd watched the epitaph from a distance anytime he saw him, like he was a mystery to solve. And every time he remembered the dread of seeing Orca stuck to that staff, the girl in the dungeon running for her life, the cold gaze of the monster. When he gazed at the Flick Reaper- modeled PC, he didn't see an AI or another person, he simply saw that monster, even with the repeated words of "He's an aly now." going off in his head.

He had to put an end to it, and not by the means his own anxiety-induced bloodlust was telling him. No this time he'd have to fix the problem in a way that he usually prided himself in: Talking to people.

Skey thows confetti above his head because he scary ajsld

I ammmm.

nice!

Eyes shut, shielding away the crisp, blank canvas around him. He welcomed the blanket of nothingness behind his eyes, for it was a moment’s reprieve from a timeless space. The Creator’s Room--possibly, the least decorated room of them all, of all the secrets that lay hidden in [The World].

Yet, despite how little there was, save for the wretched scar, the elevated earth, the currently empty chair, and the piles and piles of tomes that lay scattered about his feet, there was no silence. Even white noise had been corrupted, twisted into sweet nothings, dripped with venom--a venom Ovan could do nothing but bathe in for months on end. Within it all, he had deteriorated both physically and mentally as AIDA had taken liberties at eating away at his epitaph as a buffer ( he couldn’t thank his partner enough, as much as they shared this pain, corbenik was enduring the worst of the physical ailment ). 

The Dot Hack fandom and RP community is so small it’s got me REALLY curious who sent this. Anyway, I’m sorry you got this kind of message. Could of just gave constructive critism but nooo lets be a child about it. : /

“I’ve heard of people drinking eggs, but.......shell and all is a bit weird.”

Kite felt a chill down his spine. The threat had been playful, but at the same time he wondered if he was perhaps barking up the wrong tree here. This was still Skeith. This was the Terror of Death that he was poking with a stick. And Skeith had no qualms about reminding him of this fact.

And yet at the same time.....Kite felt a little grin. And then a chuckle. "Come on, Skeith. I figured you'd think it was fun to have your bones broken." Somehow, not even the memory that tried to force its way to his mind, of Orca's pained scream and his own terrified cries, had wiped the small smile from his face.

What had gotten in to him? He didn't feel malicious or even mean, but he wanted to.....play. There was a small buzz of excitement in his chest. It felt similar to the adrenaline that accompanied him before when he dealt the blow to Morganna and Corbenik. Perhaps a yearning for a clash of titans, with the remnants of a bloodthirsty god still in his veins from that final battle......

Admittedly, he found the sight gruesome to an extent--perhaps it was simply the sheer luck of it all. Something about it screamed Final Destination as he couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from the branch sticking out of the Terror’s chest. In hindsight, better he than anybody else--Ovan wasn’t unfamiliar with Skeith’s masochistic tendencies.