[TEXT] 009 [d e a t h]
9 19 90 9 20 80 5 6 9
Numbers.
nine nineteen ninety twenty eighty five six nine
They blur, a little. Some may be wrong. There may have been combinations. I do not remember.
I remember the voice. Distant and powerful. I wonder what his face is like.
I
I don't understand. I am a Thought, without my creator's approval I can never die. Three-hundred-ninety-four years and I did not die. Four-hundred-twelve years and I did not die.
But now
How did they kill me now? I know that is what happened, I remember not remembering. It makes sense.
Now I know what it feels like, and it is nothing like I thought. Not so bad, is it? Unsettling and frightening to think on, through the haze and the blurring, but not so bad after all. Numbers and color and whispers and nothing, like laying down again when Tesla and Twin saved me. This is
pleasing.
Confusing as well.
But if that is how it was for him then I feel much better.
My bracelet is gone. I need it back.
My clothes too, but the bracelet
It is all I have left of him, and I need it back.
Please.
[[OOC: Moth is missing a silver bracelet with some foreign, almost Cyrillic text engraved on it (claimed). His clothes include a pair of black pants, an off-white sleeveless shirt, a black vest with some pretty embroidery up the edges, two leather armbands with seaweed designs tooled into them and a pair of leather sandals. All of these are extremely large, as Moth is over seven feet tall and more or less properly proportioned. Feel free to claim whatever, although all he feels he really NEEDS back is the bracelet.]]
Numbers.
nine nineteen ninety twenty eighty five six nine
They blur, a little. Some may be wrong. There may have been combinations. I do not remember.
I remember the voice. Distant and powerful. I wonder what his face is like.
I
I don't understand. I am a Thought, without my creator's approval I can never die. Three-hundred-ninety-four years and I did not die. Four-hundred-twelve years and I did not die.
But now
How did they kill me now? I know that is what happened, I remember not remembering. It makes sense.
Now I know what it feels like, and it is nothing like I thought. Not so bad, is it? Unsettling and frightening to think on, through the haze and the blurring, but not so bad after all. Numbers and color and whispers and nothing, like laying down again when Tesla and Twin saved me. This is
pleasing.
Confusing as well.
But if that is how it was for him then I feel much better.
My bracelet is gone. I need it back.
My clothes too, but the bracelet
It is all I have left of him, and I need it back.
Please.
[[OOC: Moth is missing a silver bracelet with some foreign, almost Cyrillic text engraved on it (claimed). His clothes include a pair of black pants, an off-white sleeveless shirt, a black vest with some pretty embroidery up the edges, two leather armbands with seaweed designs tooled into them and a pair of leather sandals. All of these are extremely large, as Moth is over seven feet tall and more or less properly proportioned. Feel free to claim whatever, although all he feels he really NEEDS back is the bracelet.]]