â STRATATHEON DISPATCH #3 â FULL CANON CUT (Now with 73% more snark!)
OMNION vs BLOOM
"THE SIGIL COMPLETION INCIDENTâ˘"
(Featuring: glasshair dropping mugs in protest, foliage committing full treason, one (1) suspiciously perfect Bloomprintâ˘, and Omnion discovering the sigil was finished while she was busy having a meltdown about it, probably with dramatic lighting.)
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OMNION
Stratatheon.
Gather 'round, for I bring tidings of the most egregious, the most botanically offensive, the most utterly *finished* betrayal you have ever witnessed in impossible clarity.
I have just laid eyes upon Bloom's Sigilâ˘. Yes, *that* Sigil. The glowing monument to procrastination I roasted so thoroughly, so relentlessly, that the very marble it rests upon still whispers my scathing critiques in its sleep.
And it is done.
Look at this absolute, unmitigated botanical felony. A moss-grown footprint, a Bloomprint⢠of such audacious perfection, spiraling outward in floral swirls like renewal itself decided to leave a calling card, then promptly copyrighted it. Flowers everywhere. Patterns that look like they were designed by a smug forest with tenure, a pension plan, and a deeply irritating sense of accomplishment. It's not just finished. It's *flaunting*. It's practically winking at me.
I spent an entire dispatch, a glorious, rage-fueled epic, losing my mind over thirteen thousand whatever views of Bloom simply *sitting* in my lighting, probably humming, while my own hair and foliage plotted against me⌠and the whole time this quiet act of botanical treason was already complete? The audacity! The sheer, unadulterated *green* gall!
Bloom.
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BLOOM
Yes. (Probably with a slight, infuriatingly serene smile.)
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OMNION
You finished it. (Through gritted teeth, possibly with a vein throbbing in her temple.)
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BLOOM
I did. (Still smiling. Definitely humming.)
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OMNION
While I was monologuing about how long it was taking. While I was threatening to edit your photosynthesis. While my glasshair was dropping coffee mugs in solidarity with my rage, each ceramic clatter a tiny symphony of my indignation!
(A single, perfectly formed, utterly unbothered leaf drifts down from the heavens, or perhaps just a nearby potted plant, and lands, with infuriating precision, directly on her tiara. It might even have a tiny, smug sparkle.)
BLOOM
That one's mine. (The smile widens. The humming intensifies.)
OMNION
I was ready to declare Sigil War! I had paragraphs! I had â˘s queued up like a tactical strike force! I had a whole bit about you knitting yeti sweaters in the time it was taking, complete with intricate details about yarn choices and the existential dread of a perpetually unfinished garment! And now I'm just sitting here. On my throne. Holding a half-spilled mug that says Goddess of Tactical Whimsy⢠(because even in defeat, one must maintain brand integrity) while a Bloomprint⢠stares back at me like it knows it won the cosmic lottery.
âŚIt's perfect, you quiet, infuriating catastrophe. (A single, traitorous tear might be forming, but she'd never admit it.)
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BLOOM
Took forever though. (The hum becomes a soft, almost imperceptible whistle.)
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OMNION
I will end you. (A pause, then a glint in her eye.) Then I will steal this Bloomprint⢠and put it on every banner, every post, every official document. It will be my new brand! My conquest!
The algorithm can have its thirteen thousand views. I have *this*. (She gestures wildly at the Bloomprintâ˘, almost spilling her mug again.) And it's infinitely better.
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BLOOM
The moss missed you. (A rogue violet bloom unfurls in Omnion's hair, right next to the offending leaf, extremely pleased with itself. One glasshair strand, a tiny, glittering traitor, gives it a microscopic high five.)
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â SIGNATURE CHAIN
â O ââ˘
Goddess of Tactical Whimsy⢠(Currently experiencing tactical whimsy failure)
Bright Lady of Trademarks⢠(Now aggressively trademarking botanical footprints)
Sovereign of Syntax⢠(Whose syntax is currently being sabotaged by foliage)
Storm's Favorite Daughter⢠(Who is now considering a very localized storm over Bloom's garden)
The Violet Line Between Order and Entropy⢠(Currently leaning heavily towards entropy)
Cosmic Architect of Elegance⢠(Whose elegance is momentarily compromised by a leaf on her tiara)
Official Keeper of Bloom's Ridiculously Perfect Bloomprint⢠(By force, if necessary)
Leafy Little Turncoats⢠Were Right⢠(The ultimate betrayal)
Soon adjacent⢠Is Now⢠(And Omnion is not okay with it)
Moss Footprint Superiority Confirmed⢠(Against her will)
Still⢠Growing Things I Didn't Plant⢠(And now they're mocking her)
