eighth little thought

[notthehead]

[this thought voice is methodical, a recitation from his own notes, thought-spoken aloud rather devoid of emotion...from the start.

gradually, though, the notes of despair sink in and cause a slowing of pace.

well. slow for him. you know how it goes.]

Mikado and Sakra-who-writes and Sakra-with-glass and Ro-hey and the yellow beast and Co-let and

Comments

[patternprophet]

Chey?

[He realizes that trying to say the little alien's full name will probably result in him butchering it. As such, he'll opt for the shorter version]

[notthehead]

That is Leoben here now yes...

[patternprophet]

Yes, it's me.

[notthehead]

[beat.]

Does Leoben know the somebody that makes people go away and come back here now?

[patternprophet]

[There's a pause, as Leoben thinks about that. He'd like to say it's all part of God's plan, but he's not so sure about that right now]

I wish I did. I think it might be the city itself.

[notthehead]

[...]

Is wishing to know making you know now?

[patternprophet]

Unfortunately, no. It hasn't.

[notthehead]

Wishing for food makes food and wishing for roots makes roots but wishing to know makes nothing known why?

[patternprophet]

[There's a pause, as Leoben thinks about this.]

Perhaps it is something we're not meant to know.

[notthehead]

[trying to put this in terms he can accept:] Prince-sirs here now say what is wished and what is not?

[patternprophet]

In some ways, that may be the case. I cannot say for certain though. This city seems to have a mind of its own.

[notthehead]

I do not like it here now no...

[patternprophet]

[There's a pause, since Leoben is feeling a bit helpless, and that's rather frustrating.]

I'm sorry I can't be of more help.