β¦ pitied by @embalmingEmbrace
i think im trying not to cry but i dont even have glands to cry with! and i dont know why i even know why i know how that feels!! agh!!
(( btw, i did in fact walk SIX ACTUAL HOURS today, 3 to the interview, and 3 back, in 25 C weather, not even cloudy, and my pale ass is soooooo burnt, and i might not even get this fucking job.... fuck capitalism, bro, and god damn the sun
Happy one hundred memories, I am so delighted to have helped you all remember whilst also being sorry for the pain I have wrought. As a commemoration a face reveal. Apologies for the interference, it seems this device does not appreciate my face. This will have to do. For those asking for how I look from within the box https://i.postimg.cc/9FpzjYcq/Alternia-20260527-165906-0000.gif
ππππ ππππππ’ πππππππ ππ:@timeloopTim You were not long for this world. As soon as the Maid of Void gathered her things and realized the full extent of the situation, her judgement was precise as it was calm; out of mercy for the lives now trapped within an arm's reach from victory, seeing her theory blossom into tangible reality, it was an easy judgement. Mercy against ennui in the stagnation of a realm trapped in decay. Cast immediately in an antagonistic light, her skills irreproachable, every session mate was slaughtered. You watched your friends die heroic deaths at her hand, one by one. You couldn't fight back- you loved her too much to ever hurt someone so close to you. She had tears in her eyes. Your death was the swiftest of all. A tragedy. πΌπππππ’ πππ
ππππ ππππππ’ πππππππ ππ:@bummelBoogie Death Is All There Is You have nothing but the same memory for miles. πΌπππππ’ πππ
[unit has been sedated. unit is offline.]
ππππ ππππππ’ πππππππ ππ:@chthonianNecrology You don't remember her. The hair like silk and horns curled like ivy down the sides of her face, she was the world and the moons to you. Her touch was soft and her claws were sharp, like fangs on a butterfly or perhaps the proboscis on a hummingbird. She sipped at your veins like it was a godly nectar. She called you her 3rd place trophy, an inside joke from an event you've not quite erased yet. There was so much blood. No amount of prying the pushers from cadavers will bring her back, none of it will wash away the stains of her purple on your hands. You'll never see her pretty smile or her delicate horns again, and it was your fault. Would she want you to forget her so easily? It's not your fault. πΌπππππ’ πππ