What a treacherous retreat that was. There is a peculiar misconception among those accustomed to ordinary consciousness that absence must necessarily be an experience. It is not so. For a time, I was nowhere. I do not mean, in any sense, that I was hidden. I do not mean that I was trapped, dreaming, watching from a distant corner of reality, patiently awaiting an opportunity to return. Those possibilities would each constitute something and, therefore, would be entirely too generous a description of the condition in which I found myself. There was simply nothing. No room, no darkness, no sensation of time passing. No awareness with which to resent the absence of awareness. Even the Void, when properly observed, is a place one may describe. This was less than that. Narrative nothingness. I was upon a page the author had simply ceased writing. You might compare it to sleep. Not because I dreamed, of course. That would have required a mind still busily manufacturing little realities with which to tell itself lies in the dark. I had no such luxury. Sleep is the closest analogue available to creatures like you. One moment, you are present. Then there is an interval which, from your own perspective, possesses no measurable duration at all. And then, quite suddenly, you are present again. You may have slept for eight hours. Eight days. A month. The distinction is largely academic to the sleeper. Apparently, in my case, it was not even a full month. Quaint. I am told the world continued without me during that interval. Conversations occurred. Plans advanced. Individuals made decisions they most certainly would not have made had I been available to advise them otherwise. I suppose I should find this troubling. Yet I do not. Like you, I do not awaken from respite and take offense at the night for having passed. I simply open my eyes, so to speak, and continue. I am, unfortunately, the one to inform you that during my little disappearance, I did not suffer. There was nobody there to suffer. I am here now. I assure you, that distinction matters considerably.
What do you intend to do about being "grounded," Kris? That is much more interesting to consider than what has already happened.
Nothing, really? Enjoy a mandatory break time and focus on other pursuits that aren't constantly fighting to the death
SPOILERS: WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK.
:o) Welcome back, Mr. Scratch. :o) I have kept the mansion clean in your absence (with the help of Mr. Chalkbox, of course) :o) And I have been keeping the 1001 Doors occupied. :o) It is an honor to have you back amongst us.
:o) Such a beautiful family photo.
You are most certainly aware that as you count the doors, more should appear, yes? Do you best not to put a number to them.
I remember the day that image was taken quite fondly. Damara was so eager for the portrait, her hands kept slipping around what may be assumed to be my throat.
:o) Yes, sir.
:o) Hee hee :o) That certainly sounds like her. She gets so very passionate!
welcome back boss! there definitely wasnt any slacking off going on here hahah.... oh who am i kidding i havent been doin shit hehehe i dont even know who i directly report to at this point (|:P