Dissonance

ก็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็ـ็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็

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ــــــــــﮩ٨ــــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ــــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ــــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ــــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ــــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ــــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـــــــــــــ
The air is static.

It leaves a metallic taste in your mouth.

[you feel like
you've lost your willpower.]

Void seizes all of your vision,
vantablack's satiation
fear surges and dissipates with uneven frequency,
flooding and draining,
,deluging and depleting

your eyes are closed.
You feel strange, compared to
____?
before
____ ?
If there was ever another time, it's gone.

The air pries your eyes open.
[A spate of light torments you, as if the sun itself followed your vision solely to blind you.]
The air has you feeling, melting through your nerves like pins and needles.
[Attempting to sit upwards; your torso rises, but your thighs remain flat on the ground.]

______________
you feel—
a sensation—

_'s ___ curls gently around your ear
another wraps over your nose bridge, resting on your cheekbone and wrapping around the back of your skull—

𓂀

Upon looking upwards;
a clot of words catches in your throat, your vision beginning to clear.
[You can't help but think it's trying to talk to you.]
[The thought registers before the absurdity of 𓂀 can.]
𓂀 floats above you, two tentacles hanging from beneath it's waterline.
the black tendrils in question leave an incomprehensible smear as it runs along your face.
𓂀's 𓂀 - or, 𓂀 - whatever it may be.
𓂀 is extraordinarily large.
𓂀 stares into each one of your eyes simultaneously.

You swat violently at the tentacles, leaving your palms coated in a strange black grime. The things curl into spirals in recoil.
Your face scrunches in a profound combination of confusion and disgust.

Beyond it, the sky—light blue and full of three dimensional clouds
still geometic_but there's something wrong
The clouds are wrong.
[You squint, peering your head.]
It's got a sort of
there's a sort of
texture,
it reminds you of those old PS games back home.

[You're not quite sure what that is.]
[You catch yourself again, concerned with the wrong things.]

The sight of 𓂀 is still deeply appalling.
𓂀 gives you space, hovering a few feet away.
gro TESQUE\
Leaning on one arm [{[[[_———?????]you can't quIte explain it]]], You wipe the strange grime from your cheek—
—
—

The movement comes to a rigid halt.
as A primal panic envelops.
Adrenaline floods your veins.
[as] You stare in raw horror___
at the geometrical form
that is your a̶̛̪͉̖͖̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̖͖̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̖͖̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̖͖̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̖͖̍͂̀̽🅰🆁🅼.

Your eyes climbs the sight of ʸᵒᵘʳthe limb, everything violently abberating.
Waving it around, it moves exactly when and where you want it to,
but there's no joint clicking
no skin folding,
[_̴T̴h̴e̴y̴ ̴a̴r̴e̴n̴'̴t̴ ̴e̴v̴e̴n̴ ̴a̴t̴t̴a̴c̴h̴e̴d̴ ̴t̴o̴ ̴y̴o̴u̴r̴ ̴t̴o̴r̴s̴o̴],,
You can't see your muscles or tendons shifting when you clench_ ʸᵒᵘʳit's hand.
its like your controlling y__rit's limbs via telekinesis.

The pit in your gut only deepens when you notice __ʸᵒᵘʳʸᵒᵘʳYOUR your it's _ —your elbow is missing.—

—[THE ARM
ITS NǪ̶̪̝͖̘̪̟̺̝͈̆̌̔̔Tₜ Ｙ ᴹＯ ᴵＵ ᴺＲ ᴱＳ]⃝

]̶̠͍̲̝̼̄̊̑̈̈́́̀̑̐͜
——
__--—[_---------_______________________it__is___it is yours-__ Your are undergoing extreme____.]—
_[𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚡𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.]
Please stay CAa̶̛̪͉̖͖̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̖͖̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̖͖̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̖͖̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̖͖̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̖͖̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̖͖̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̖͖̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̖̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̖͖̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̖͖̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪͉̖̍͂̀̽=a̶̛̪͉̍͂̀̽a̶̛̪̍͂̀̽
.
.
.
.

[It seems your forearm and upper arm are completely detached from]
[each other.]
[It functions as if you still have something connecting the two.]

You wiggle your fingers. It's fingers.
it's fingers. No,
No, no no, it's your fingers
It's your arm
You know that already.

At least, your body does.
But you don't.

You try to breathe.
You try again.
Again.
Every effort to suck air in is wasted.
[You have no lungs.]

*+.,_
𓂀 is still staring.
𓂀 ignores your distress.
The pit in your gut deepens,
if whatever you're feeling is even your gut.

, if you even have one.

The ground below you resembles early morning tiles, cold to the touch. It stretches out for miles and milesandmilesandmilesandmilesandmilesandmilesandmiles and miles and milesandmilesandmiles and recurring.
Black soot smears as you plant your palms against the bizarre material.
[You catch yourself again, concerned with the wrong things.]
[You feel
[inexplicably Strange.]
Your brain feels unbearably jittery,
with the lack of feeling in your knees.

It feels as though your eyes are about to pop out from their sockets,
__________________________
as you notice the joint [[[;is simply gone.

There is nothing connecting your thighs and entire lower leg.

You are entirely geometrical. And missing parts of your body, including most of your abdomen.

There is nothing below your waist, to the top of your thighs.
—There is Nothing.——_
It's a gap. It's just a gap.
It's just not there.
It's not there anymore.

𓂀 watches you lose your mind.

lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
This
This light
This sunlight
??____@;;;;;;;;;l
—_
A ceiling lamp dangles from a cord, reaching beyond the physical skybox. It's—___light—the sun the sun is not substitutable__ it shouldn't be_ right?
—

—

______--------->>>> O_U_CCCCCCHHHHH___AA.U.com _ A_f A
A pain shoots clean through your skull.

Cleaning completed.
✓ You cleaned 9.3 GB (79,000 items)
Now there's more space for the files you need.
Review your system junk if you want to clean
even more.
Back to Dashboard : : : Keep cleaning

You spring to your feet.
[Severe internal turmoil can_can_
become poisonous in large quantities!]
S_w_i_v_e_l_ing your head, you observe the eerily flat terrain that can only be described as preternatural, mountain-ish forms decorating the far corners of your sight.
But they barely hold a candle to the colossal chains stretching from the ground into the sky. Titanic heavy-linked things that draw so far into the atmosphere that they fade gradually into the blue.
[You are overcome with a sense of vertigo.]

you lose the horizon. you lose the ground: from your field of view]_________
[It's just like looking down at the void from a high place, yet you can still feel your feet flat on the ground.]

Somewhere in the distance, to your side—you can just barely make out something—a body—

____

You keep turning your head.

You keep turning your head.

You keep turning your head.

You keep turning your head.

Because you can.
You 𝙘𝙖𝙣.

You're not sure when,
but
you've lost control.
your 👁 y 👁 s
your head
spins;
around and around

you swirl and swirl and swirl and your guts flip¿?
[Spontaneous panic secretes from your nails¿?]
Your hands shoot to your ears, firmly gripping the sides of your head in a desperate attempt to stop the nauseating motion.

The spinning stops in time for you to realise your neck does definitely doesn't exist.

[You're growing tired of things you can't explain.]

This time, though, it's not a debilitating fear overcoming you. Not panic. No. . . . + . It's morphed into something you can handle.' *+ , . . .
a detached state of awe? . + *
[.+*𝓒u𝓡ᶤｏＳ𝐈ｔy*+ , . h_s taken the wheel.]
You hold your arm up in front of you, gazing upon your own block of arm . + *
* _ .+* +, .+ .before sticking it straight into your mouth. . + *,
Your fingers take a journey,.. + *
. + , They explore the interior of your gums - your teeth, + . . , + ' ' + _ _ ,.+*
,. +and they're perfect *" +.,
It's impressive initially. You've forgotten why.
You reach further, your jaw opening exceptionally wide. ."*+,. . . . .

You keep reaching. . , + * ' "

"'*Down...
what should be your throat* + . ,

,You keep reaching,
And reaching , ,
And reaching , , ,
And reaching , , , , . +*
You pause after realizing your entire arm, {up to the sleeve} has been
_,.*'engulfed. "'*+.,________________________________
______________________________________________________҉

thump

You rotate your head, spare hand still firmly attached to the side of your cheek.

Behind you, the figure you saw before—the ?person¿—
It____
is____
collapsed to the ground, in a pile of itself. It's limbs bend uncannily, the flesh expectant and disappointed to discover it's bones have disappeared.
[The sight is almost as appalling as 𓂀.]
[You take a step back from the mass.]

The pile begins reconstructing itself.
Slowly, it's limbs fold back into place. It starts looking less like an 'it' and more like a 'She'.
Suddenly,
There's a Someone standing in front of you.

Her body isn't completely cuboid like yours, almost normal. but just... low poly...
She has elbows. Knees. And a waist. Unlike you.
Beige skin so desaturated it's barely skin at all.
It occurs to you; is it skin? You wonder what would happen if you peel it off, if you even can.
[The girl frowns at you.]

"...𝐻𝒾𝓎𝒶..."

She sounds awfully cheerful for someone frowning.
And her voice is awfully orotund for someone so cheerful.
She's wearing a hat.

"𝒟𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉?"
The girl balances on one straight leg, flinging her arms out joyfully.
She Content Deleted. See more on this here.

[Your distraught grows.]
[You want to address the 𓃰 in the 🌐︎.]

"...𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉..."

"...𝒮𝑜, 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉?"
"..𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝓎'𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓉..."

You're unsure what the girl is talking about.

"𝐵𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽. Y𝑜𝓊 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓉. 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝑔𝒶𝓈𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓂𝑒."

You're very sure you didn't.

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒹𝒾𝒹. 𝒟𝑜 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝒻 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊? 𝒜𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔_𝚊𝚊𝚊__𝚊_𝒶𝓈𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 _𝚖__𝚖?𝓂𝑒?...... . . . . . . . .
⁴⁰⁴�̸̡͙̹̮͗̌͠�̷̡̭̗͓̆̅͊͜͝�̴͚̼̻̬̗̩͗̉͂͘�̸̧͌͛̓̈́͊̉̏͘͜�̵͇̭̬̄͗̓́̂̓̔́̔͝�̸̛͙͔̼͚̩̳̜̠̦̆̆̑́͛͂͝�̸̢͚̦̫̩̦̘͈̪́̀̒̔̀́̔͒̽͝�̶̭̺̲̠̫̱̌͊̓̔̕ͅ�̸̧͍͓̹̲̜͐�̶̻̜̗͚͓͋̾̓̈́̂͋̃̒͠͝�̴̹́̇͗͆̚�̶̦͂̈́͋ͅ�̷̰̭̲̰̣͎̘̱̫̞́́̿̔͠�̵͉̳̎̆́̽͑̏̚͝❤̷̟̤̩̖̙̱̾️̸͈̞̳͎̼̬́̆̓̈́̌̄̄̀͝�̸̬̽̆̏͐́͑͘͝ͅ�̴̹̳̲͕͒̆̓͋̏̊̈́̊͘͝ͅ�̶̻̗͍̪̌ͅ�̸͓̹̘̣̽̃͂͐͂́̆͂̆̎

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"𝐻𝒾𝓎𝒶."

The

She sounds
And her voice is awfully ____ for someone so cheerful.
She's wearing a ushanka.

Wait, you already know that

"𝒟𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉?"
The girl balances , __You remember the rest
[You're not sure how you remembered what she's doing. You develop a sudden urge to throw up, no thanks to the arm still lodged down your throat-void.]
She flings her arms out joyfully,
Wait, you already know that

The girl makes a face. She raises an eyebrow.
[___???You don't remember this.{}]

"...𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉..."
"𝒪k. 𝐿𝑒𝓉'𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉."
"𝐼'𝓂 𝒜𝓋𝑜𝒾𝓇 𝒟𝑒 𝐿𝒶 𝑀𝑒𝓇𝒹𝑒 𝒟𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝐿𝑒𝓈 𝒴𝑒𝓊𝓍."

...

Avour dela... what?

"𝒩𝑜,"

You watch her facial features scrunch.
You watch
__
her reaction
__
__to what?

.]
[You take a step back.]

MIᄂΣSTONE ЯEΛᄃΉED

— God.org (DO NOT DISTRIBUTE)

[You haven't spoken a word. She answers your thoughts.]

"𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉?"
. . . .
"𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉𝓉𝒶 𝒷𝑒 𝓀𝒾𝒹𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑒."
. . . .
"𝒩𝑜?"
. . . .
"𝐻𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜?"

[Your arm remains limp in the null of your throat.]
[Sliding it out, the joint-deficient surface of your forearm jams stuck at your teeth. It loosens after a few tugs.]

"𝒪𝒽, 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓃. 𝒩𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻? 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊."
. .
. .
"...𝒪𝒽...𝓌𝒶𝒾𝓉, 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂, 𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓃'𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊? 𝒢𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈."

. ..You let the label sink in. One of them} ᶜᵒᵖⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜˡⁱᵖᵇᵒᵃʳᵈ!
—"𝒴𝑒𝒶𝒽, 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝒽. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝑔𝑜 𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓃𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉."

"𝒜𝓃𝓎𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈, 𝒹𝑜'𝓎𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓉!?"

A clot jams in your throat again.

"𝒜𝒽𝒽, 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑔 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓋𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒? 𝒷𝓊𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓇."

Dog?
You tense your body up, your vision pulsating between focus and blur.
The girl's frown intensifies.

"𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 '𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁'!"

"avoir de la murde..."
The rest is lost to you.
You can hear your own voice, now. The rebound echo reverberates in your ears.
It's like a bad quality recording.

"𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝑒, 𝒶𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎?"

งᴅᴇᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴง overcomes you.

"𝒜𝓋𝑜𝒾𝓇..."
"avoir,"
"𝒩𝑜, 𝒜𝓋𝑜𝒾𝓇."
Avoir,

"𝒟𝑒 𝐿𝒶 𝑀𝑒𝓇𝒹𝑒 𝒟𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝐿𝑒𝓈 𝒴𝑒𝓊𝓍."
A coughing fit overcomes you. "░h҉░░h҉░h҉ —what?"
"𝒰𝙂𝓗! 𝐼 s𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝑅𝑒𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓉!"
The girl sighs politely.
The girl stomps her feet.
"!!𝒮𝒯𝒪𝒫 𝒞𝒜𝐿𝐿𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝑀𝐸 '𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝒢𝐼𝑅𝐿'¡"

.
.

[It took 10 minutes for you to pronounce it right.]
[During this time, Avoir De La Merde Dans Les Yuex called you 23 slurs.]
"𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓁, 𝐼 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝒹 b𝒶𝒸𝓀. 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒, 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉."

The world spins, angling your face's direction with steady care.

"𝒜𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝑒?"

You slowly spin the world back to face her.
"what?"
"𝒰𝑔𝒽. 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓅 𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 '𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉'. 𝐼𝓉𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒, 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒶𝓎."

You squint.
She rolls her rhombus eyes.
They're bright blue.

"𝒪𝒽. 𝓂𝓎 𝒢𝒪𝒟. 𝒩𝑜 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉, 𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓁𝑜𝒸𝓀! 𝒴𝒪𝒰 𝒥𝒰𝒮𝒯 𝒩𝒪𝒯𝐼𝒞𝐸𝒟?"

"what's the hole?"

She groans.

"l໐໐k. 𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝑔𝑜."
There's a small change in her voice, but hardly unusual enough to contrast.

The horizon behind her looms further and further away.

"𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃? 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊?

"_i didn't mean_"

You h ـ็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็adn't really noticed when Avoir De La Merde Dans Les Yuex had started smiling.

"ℌ𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔬𝔲! 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒?"
. . . .
"𝒜𝐻, 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎, 𝐼'𝓂 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈𝒶𝓁. 𝒢𝑜𝓉𝓉𝒶 𝑔𝑜. 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝑒."

The✖✖ girl✖ struts away in the direction of one of the chains unprompted.
You never told her your name.

Her retreating back remains objected to your curiosity, the way she struts.
Very animated.

𓂀 watches from even further, now, a dot in the horizon. 𓂀's black tentacles swirl below 𓂀, curling and flicking

You decide to follow anyway.
[Unfortunately, your feet have other plans.]
[You hobble awkwardly in her direction.]

__Jนst d໐n't l໐໐kـ็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็ d໐wn.
[The voice is not yours. It's not Avoir De La Merde Dans Les Yuex's either.]

Her body phases through one of the chains.
You hurry to catch up.
☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
⛓____𓀤_𓂀____🌴_____🌵___🦖__

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️🦖☁️☁️☁️
⛓𓀤_____𓂀____🌴_____🌵_______

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
⛓______𓂀____🌵__🦖_🌵_______

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️🦖☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
⛓______𓂀____🌵_____🌵_______

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️?☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
⛓______𓂀_🦖_🌵_____🌵______⚇

☁️☁️☁️☁️🦖☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
⛓______𓂀____🌵_____🌵_____⚇_

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
⛓_🦖___𓂀____🌵_____🌵____⚇__

Higher than you can comprehend, the chain suspends between the ground and far beyond the skybox. So close now you can almost smell it.
The remnants of someone's instinct left behind—fear tenses the shoulders you lack, bracing themselves
[You ease your rigid limbs into the metallic braids.]

[Y[our 𓏲ָstomach gives way to your feꫀׁׅܻꪻꪻ𝓉.]
☐
Splattering onto the tread plate floor, a repugnant neon pink substance. It contrasts grievously against the dully etiolated diamond plates.
☐
Your stretched arms flatten against the back of the enclosure - a room so small your rectangular fingers brush either sides of the walls.
A falling sensation has overcome you ever since you entered that chain.
A falling sensation
faster than gravity could ever pull you.

Plummeting further𓂅, an indistinct sound can be heard playing far away. Plummeting further𓂅, the sound tentatively grows louder and louder.
An outré opera of tenor and soprano soon echo through the walls of your chamber𓂅,
With a ding that hardly registers above the deafening orchestra beyond, a two-panel door opposite you slides open.

𝔊𝔦𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔭𝔭𝔢 𝔙𝔢𝔯𝔡𝔦,
𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔨𝔶 ℭ𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔲𝔰,
𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔨𝔶 𝔒𝔯𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞,
𝔙𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔶 𝔊𝔢𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔢𝔳.

𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚞𝚖: 𝙸𝙸𝚊.

𝒟𝐼𝐸𝒮 𝐼𝑅𝒜𝐸

DAY OF WRATH,
THAT DAY,
WILL DISSOLVE THE WORLD IN ASHES

With the conclusion of percussion, sticks strike against their bass drums —sending violent hits so thunderous they reverberate tenfold into the plastic-like layers of your body.

It has you clutching your head desperately in the corner.

[As the cacophony subsides, shadows shift at your toes.]

⚁"𝙷𝚞𝚑?"⚁

The figure huffs, clearly vexed.
⚀"𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝!"⚀

[He reminds you of Avoir De La Merde Dans Les Yuex.]
[Clearly due to his head being a head-sized di(c)e, the similarity must be... personality-wise.]

⚀"𝙾𝚞𝚑, 𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚋𝚘'𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚏 𝚝𝚘𝚘. 𝙸 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞!"⚀
Vowels pronounced with a nasal flare. Guttural R's. French-ish?
[You can't quite remember what that is.]
[The memory sits uncomfortably on your tongue.]

⚀"𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝙾𝚄𝚃! 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞."⚀
His yelling is as ear-splitting as the instruments that drove you to latibulate.

𝔸ℙℙ𝔼𝔸𝕊𝔼
"—avoir de la merde dans les yuex...?"

The man's head rotates slowly in a span of angles, displaying a patterns of dots.
⚀, ⚁, ⚁, ⚀, ⚁,

⚀"𝙷𝚖."⚁
⚁"𝙾𝚔... 𝚂𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎𝚛..."⚁
Grimacing, you nod quickly.

⚁"𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚗𝚘?"⚂

Unsure of what he means, you remain crouched in the corner.
He doesn't respond to your thoughts like Avoir De La Merde Dans Les Yuex does,
you wonder if she's the only... entity... who can.

"what?"

He grunts.
⚀"Ç𝚊 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚎𝚛...."⚀
"...what?"

⚀"𝙾𝚑 𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 ! 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚢?!"⚀
You recall Avoir De La Merde Dans Les Yuex calling you 'one of them'.
"am i something?"
Sputtering from your lipless mouth is a question you didn't end up rethinking.

"i mean,"
⚁"𝚈𝚎𝚜, 𝚢𝚎𝚜. 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚜, 𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝."⚁

Gradually, the die-man grows more irritated.
⚀"𝚀𝚄𝙸! 𝚂𝙷𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺 𝚄𝙿"⚀
It's a relief it's not you he's yelling at, peering over his shoulder.
Choruses of violin and soprano cease abruptly, followed by furious cursing.

⚁"𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎, 𝚗𝚘? 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛."⚁

He sighs.
⚂"𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚝."⚂

⚄"𝙾𝚑, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝙰𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚛 𝙳𝚎 𝙻𝚊 𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚎 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙻𝚎𝚜 𝚈𝚞𝚎𝚡, 𝚍𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎."⚄

A last rotation of his head, he disappears behind the frame. +.,
.+ *'Curiosity ., has been eating at you +'*',._
.,There's a stage in the centre of the room, where the well-dressed die-head is now walking.
Strange looking ballerinas prepare themselves upon the platform. Their skin porcelain, the most humanoid individuals you've seen all [Time].
The doors slamming shut, the chamber now beknown to you - drops yet again. This time you're sent flying into the roof, forced to grip the ledge of the emergency hatch for stability.

It falls.
and falls.
and falls.

After a few minutes - moments before you're vision starts to swim, it comes to an abrupt halt.

You crash to the floor with a sickening thud.

Again, the door opens -
but it's not a strange entity greeting you. A void instead.
Your footsteps vibrate the titanium flooring beneath your so(u)les(s).
Now those footsteps blend beyond physical material.

.
.
.
.