[wot, don't see a lot of text Broadcast Minds, do you? swirling up from the bottom of the forge screen in wispy dribs and drabs, words coalescing and reconfiguring, fitting together in shifts, until perhaps some of these stanzas briefly stabilise together.]A is for Liam who caught the wrong eyes
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[priorities!]
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Where have you been for the last… erm…
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---if i know what?
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[...]
Do I have to be a certain level to join?
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They've all got something in common which you probably can't…
I mean, by my time…
…Can you tell? At all? …the ones you…?
[hell of a way to tell her. He forgets exactly what happened when-(or exactly when happened wot?)-and wherever the hell her memory is at now. Glad he didn't get up to "T" but he did get up to "J" and that's…
Time to whip back out the notebook of colourful ways to disembowel his forge. …Disencircuit. Disintegrate. Now we're getting somewhere…]
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[...]
Always arise, huh?
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you are talented in that department
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Awesome work, man. You'd put Maya Angelou to shame.
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One could be written for the Scorched here, too.
[q is for quatre who lost his way. (and his marbles, too.)]
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So… how goes the haunting?
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- still stubborn. But she makes good company.
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