Tenth Mission - Purple Nurple

[codename_potato]

I am currently searching with weighted heart for that which is most necessary to fuel the fruits of my arduous physical labors. Indeed, for these past three nights I have worked diligently, fingers gliding deftly over the hard surface of the weapon, gently coaxing the wires back into working order with the lightest caress of skilled hands

Comments

[feathered_earth]

Gundam? My dear, stoic friend, has

Is your mind in a state of perfect health, or has some dreadful ailm

What mysterious and enigmatic strange event in you is going on?

Trans: I don't know.

[codename_potato]

Forsooth I cannot rightly say, courageous maiden, for in truth I myself am bewildered by this untoward turn of events.

[feathered_earth]

[ink spatter, she's laughing at "courageous maiden." Now she's just gonna run with it.]

Indeed, this thing is in truth most certainly a very occult and enigmatic occurrence. My heart sings the question from the bottom of my heart: what possibly could this ever be?

[codename_potato]

[Don't laugh--okay, laugh, Gundam's just resigned anyway.]

Only one response can I pen to you, my lady, and indeed it is of sinister and familiar origin. Our fair bower home, or whomsoever may be the one said to rule this place, has once again seen fit to make of us a strange and unsettling play.

We are but puppets, whose words and actions are dictated thus; the events of our lives woven through the peculiar warp and weft of the tapestry of life within the shining leaves.

(Translation: Another event.)

[subject_e0057]

....I find myself absolutely and irrevocably shocked at your displays of verbosity this evening. Indeed, as the moon carries across the skies, the Midsummer stars gently whisking by to make way for those of autumn, I wonder if we are being carried along with it. What sort of power greater than ourselves can cause such eloquent writing to flow forth from your pen, alerting us to everything and nothing at once and unmistakably losing meaning within meaning.

Your words flow and ebb like the tides, swirling into a cacophony of intentions and desires of which I'm unable to grasp. Much like cupping water in my hands, nothing remains but the few, faint, sparkling droplets that only serve to remind me that there was once something there- something that is now lost, and something that can only be guessed and questioned.

(Translation: Wat.)

[codename_potato]

In reply I can only say this in my defense; for you see, dear comrade, I am without bearing in this strange turn of events. Indeed, upon closer inspection, when given scrutiny by my own dark orbs, I cannot find ought that is wrong with parchment or quill, nor e'en with my own hands, which thus write to you amidst my own confusion.

Indeed, expanding upon your imagery these waters are murky with the unknown, depths once so clear like finest crystal, now dark and unseen, holding dangers and treasures that only the most daring might pursue--the glinting golden crown of knowledge guarded on all sides by darkness, deep and haunting, that clings like the wraiths of warriors in thrall.

((Translation: IDEK.))

[subject_e0057]

Surely this alarming and unfamiliar development is one that none of us wished for. The way communication is lost, trapped within a web spun of meaningless devices and manufactured dialects, is nothing short of abhorrent. Our only communication over distances has turned to a dreaded creation, devouring whatever it is that we wish to convey, to speak, to write, so carefully pondering and crafting with our minds and hearts and tongues and pens, and warping it into a twisted maelstrom of unintelligible babble

[codename_potato]

Calm yourself, or upon my word at this rate you shall be trapped in this labyrinthine passage of crooked words, unable to lift pen from page, capable only of wandering deeper into dank halls best left undisturbed by any living creature. Faith, but that you would see, we can speak! If only within the distance it takes one to casually toss a stone.

I will come to you, if it must be, so that together we may parlay, words plain and bared from our hearts, unlike these strange tumultuous things that slip from our fingers, tricky and lying as snakes, with hidden meaning and depth, and glimmers of raw truth like daggers in the dark.

Nay, let us not tarry upon these fragments of truth, distorted by our own hands, against the wills of We Who Write. Instead shall we sally forth and make plain out meanings to one another, for while I still find you to be of questionable company, both ill and glad to linger in your presence, I would most rather endure such addled torture and delight than waste more time here, playing the pen's idle song.

(Trans

[pinkhairedchild]

Your words perplex me.

[codename_potato]

Faith child, even to my own eyes these sinuously twisting paths of ink seem like a maze best left for other feet to wander.

(Translation: T_T)

[felinemystique]

I fear, child, the blade of which you speak cannot be revived by my skills.

In truth, I am accustomed to blades of a different sort, pliant even in their strength, precise even in their force, and wielded by only the most expert of hands.

[codename_potato]

I confess, dear lady, that this blade which I have devoted such time and blood to is not of my first preference. I believe in the sword which feeds of the life of the wielder, and thus becomes part of him, making them one and the same, a whole being with two parts, steel and flesh welded together at the apex of the soul.

And yet this creation of machine and edge, neither man nor pure steel, is so familiar to me, that it is like a whisper in my ears beckoning me to it's completion--I see the shape, nay, only the shadow. I wish to see the thing under full sun, with my own eyes, so that perhaps a small glimmer of what once was may be bequeathed unto my cogitations.

(Translation: I like plain blades too, but this is familiar.)

[felinemystique]

Then the journey on which you embark is well worth the toil. Only by such signposts can one truly navigate the soul, plumbing the depths, illuminating the murk and dragging the truth to stand, proud and trembling in the light, finally free of the veil of obfuscation under which it has cowered for so very long.

[codename_potato]

Your encouragement heartens me. Truly I shall continue on my quest, letting no foe discourage my attempts to bring light and life to that which is now dead and darkened, lying under a pall of cold and venomous ignorance.

(Trnaslation: thx)

Translation: This is bullshit!

[redrobinhood]

I dare say, this is the clearest example of Bos Primigenius's most foul and odious excrement yet!

Translation: Yes.

[codename_potato]

Sweet spectre, I know not how this has come to pass, like so may other mysteries of this wooded haven we reside upon, but yet I find I must agree with your words, however harsh--this inconvenience in inky form leaves much to be desired, efficiency sacrifices to that scapegrace fashion, and before all is through, we shall each drink of the cup of excess.

keywords <3

[redrobinhood]

Yea Gundam, my one time brother in arms, a most noble bond made when we were but babes in our verdant Elysium and we perchance one winter played a childish game of war to soothe our innermost demons with lighthearted laughter and bullets made but of gentle ice packed with warm mittens of mischief--

Nay! I cannot even go further, for every one mark I move to make upon this most magical journal has become a lengthy performance of words, a play that mocks us by using lengthy verses when a few mere vowels and a consonant would have plenty sufficed! The strain of using such melodious description has creased my brow and caused me to sigh most longingly. My kingdom for a physician's restorative potion!

[Translation: Dude Gundam I--

--Fuck this, its giving me a headache!]

Ahahaha oh god

[codename_potato]

Ah Ghost, indeed those chill times, with the snow like ash that fell upon us, I felt light hearted still when we warred in our mock games, chasing that elusive feeling. Would that we might do it again, but many have been lost between that time and this, and there might be a bittersweet nostalgia to such play.

If you need I can detour upon my rounds and harken to your door. I am willing, nay eager, to fetch any item or salve that may be a balm to your distress, for ever was there a friend in need, that did not call from his companions compassion and the desire to ease his suffering? Let me is yours, if it is in my power.

(Translation: I remember the snowball fight,it would be nice to do again, maybe. Are you all right? Do you need me to get you anything?)