#thecorruptedplayer

The faint chill that travelled up her arm was proof it was only an illusion.

She had greeted the Corrupted with uncertainty, muttering their name under her breath in confusion as they approached. Their condition was harmful to this world. They were dangerous, even if they were her friend. They should not have been there.

But they had no intent of causing harm, only snapping out of her thoughts once they had reached to take her hand. Their touch was ghost-like, if it could be described as any feeling at all. It lacked physical presence. Somehow the knowledge soothed her, though she could not figure out for what reason they chose to come to her this way.

Still she played along, watching them kneel before her, moving her hand along with the motion of them bringing it to their face. They lifted their mask, exposing their lips as they pressed them to the back of her hand.

((pUP YOUR FRIEND IS IMPURE))

thecorruptedplayer replied to your post:

{PUPPETEER YOU BATTER MAY OR MAY NOT BE SUBTLY THREATENING ME.}

◎○○ [RECOVERING DATA...]

The subject of “permanence” has crossed my mind once more.

I was reunited with an old friend. The Corrupted. I remember now how I used to speak to them, give them hope and company. Back then we were kindred spirits, restricted to observation of a world beyond our grasp and a life of seclusion, yet still dedicated to our roles, even though only one of us could still fulfill it.

It was nice, speaking to them again.

But I am not certain if they should be left to linger.

They are still, as their title says, corrupted. Riddled with damaged code that I have no idea how to fix. Dangerous and infectious, even to themselves. They told me their absence was caused by an “attack” that left them comatose.

I am worried.

For once, there was a nagging feeling someone was trying to call her. Someone from the outside.

She would return to her dwelling just for such an occasion, pixels rolling off of her and onto the pure while floor as she made the transition. Gliding across the room to her chair she took her seat, crossing one leg over the other as she beckoned a screen closer to answer the call. Static bloomed and took over her visual, but it would soon begin to even out and clear as the connection stabilized.

 "... Well, this is new."

In all of Kasmir's years, he had never run into a place quite like this. In a word, it was bleak. Almost entirely greyscale. Even the demon's wintry pallor of a skin tone seemed peachy in comparison to its colorless landscape. And desolate, too. All but for one person, black-and-white as the rest of their surroundings...