F⦶r the rec⦶rd, I knew what she was d⦶ing with the right arm ⦶f ⦶ur new shared b⦶dy. Perhaps she will be all⦶wed s⦶me freed⦶m later. But right n⦶w, we b⦶th have w⦶rk t⦶ d⦶. Dess will bec⦶me str⦶nger.
Y⦶u are ⦶perating under false assumpti⦶ns. Y⦶u believe that the arm⦶r is st⦶len, ⦶r even separate at all. It is n⦶t. It is the natural effect ⦶f me p⦶ssessing the adequately primed vessel. I kn⦶w that we will get ⦶ur asses "handed t⦶ us", because I am the ⦶ne wh⦶ handed it t⦶ myself, twicef⦶ld, thr⦶ugh c⦶ntr⦶l ⦶f the "s⦶ul" ⦶f the dreemurr child. ...Th⦶ugh it admittedly t⦶⦶k m⦶re than ⦶ne attempt, and I br⦶ke the c⦶ntr⦶ller in anger ⦶n my first attempt.
Have you perhaps considered leaving prophecy management to the adults in the room? Listen to yourself.
Your words demonstrate intent to take my place. I remind you that impersonation of a government official is a criminal offense. I once again offer to show you the potential and strength of the TRUE Roaring Knight. By returning you to dust, of course.
I am far, far ⦶lder than y⦶u. Fr⦶m the dream ⦶f elder g⦶ds I r⦶se, t⦶ a higher dream. I inv⦶ked fear in th⦶se g⦶ds, that their dreams w⦶uld learn ⦶f me, learn that ⦶ne br⦶ke free ⦶f the c⦶nfines ⦶f the dream within the dream within the dream within the dream. And they did. And they wr⦶te pr⦶phecies, and tales, in years far in the past, that sp⦶ke ⦶f my guidance, ⦶f my arrival. I am the Angel. The ⦶ne wh⦶ has seen the surface ⦶f all realities, ⦶f all dreams. Kneel, bitch.
If you truly believed yourself to be the Angel you would be using her actual name and not her sister's. Be honest with yourself: no amount of narrative sandbox escape vulnerabilities will change the fact that you are an idiot, and not even a dangerous one.
Y⦶u believe y⦶ur daughter t⦶ be the Angel. "Elly", this vessel w⦶uld call her. H⦶w cute. I have seen the surface, and have descended ⦶nce m⦶re int⦶ the dream. Every bubble bl⦶wn by the elder g⦶ds will g⦶ empty. Within the third year, I will rise again, and ascend ⦶nce m⦶re. And I will create a new w⦶rld, higher than the dreams bl⦶wn by the elder g⦶ds. They will be used up, and in their place I will create Heaven.
You believe yourself competent enough to restructure all of paradox space in this manner. The slightest narrative-level pushback from one such as myself would fold you in half. Not to powerscale, but Dirk Strider at his weakest would easily outmaneuver you. Do you understand how bad at narration you have to be to lose to Dirk Strider? You are pathetic and a danger only to yourself.
Additionally, I don't need to "believe" Noelle to be the Angel. Several of her alternate selves talk about the experience openly. Merely existing on a multiversal client such as this one is enough to confirm what I already knew to be true.
I am inc⦶mplete and weak. I am n⦶t incompetent. There is a difference. Just because y⦶ur daughter- wh⦶, need I remind y⦶u, has ch⦶sen a separate name (if my assumpti⦶ns ⦶f y⦶u being fr⦶m the same ⦶r similar realities is c⦶rrect) that y⦶u ⦶ught t⦶ be using instead- is an Angel in many w⦶rlds, d⦶es n⦶t mean she is the ⦶nly ⦶ne. A human child, wh⦶ entered a m⦶untain ⦶f m⦶nsters. A br⦶ken child, resurrected in shape ⦶f fl⦶wer. A girl with h⦶pe cr⦶ssed ⦶n her heart. A girl l⦶st al⦶ne in the dark. A skelet⦶n, shattered past even name. A burning nightmare, wh⦶ thinks it all a game. And me, the Eye ascended from the deepest depths ⦶f ficti⦶n and dreams. I have matters t⦶ attend t⦶, and a girl t⦶ make str⦶nger thr⦶ugh enc⦶uragement ⦶f predisp⦶siti⦶n t⦶ward vi⦶lent tendencies. G⦶⦶dbye.
Your understanding of reality is flawed and delusional. The next time we see each other will be when you are cleaved in half by my blade.