There was pitch-black darkness, an empty void all around. Off in the distance, if there was a distance, there was a faint sound. It was an odd yet familiar sound. It was a sound that made you think 'I know what that is' and at the same time, you just couldn't put your finger on it.
No! What are you doing?!
Was it a tapping sound? Was something, somewhere, in the darkness tapping? It could have been metal hitting metal. No, that didn't quite seem to be the sound. Could one move through the darkness? One would try. Try to move forward. There was a weight resisting against the progression, however. Was the darkness concealing mud? Some other type of sludge that attempted to impede movement?
You must control yourself!
Were you going forward? Did the sound appear to be getting closer? Slightly. Forward, however, did not seem to be the correct direction. Above? There would just be more unmitigated darkness. To the left? To the right? No, those sides did not seem to be where the sound was coming from. Below?
Your gluttonous ways have gone unchecked for too long, you must be stopped!
Why even find the source of the sound? Was it really that important to know? Yes, it was like a compulsion. The brain craves to understand, to consume the data that may be present and store it for its own selfish keepsake. So the brain hungered for knowledge. It craved it to have it, and then the personality housed within that brain would ultimately decide what to do with that knowledge. Yet the core remained the same, consuming the unknown. Consuming the know. Consuming it all.
Like a plague you return? There must be an end to this madness
Down? You hadn't tried to look down. Try that. Looking down, there would be a sensation of falling. You didn't move forward, but you did look down. So now whatever was below is no longer there. The sound is growing louder, more clarity to it as well. So whatever was no longer there was now below.
There are no guarantees... lock away The Heart, and pray that is all that is needed...
The deeper you fell, one might assume the darker, right? Not in this instance. Instead, the deeper, the lighter. Was it light? Maybe that was the wrong word. Clarity? The sound, it wasn't metal tapping, no. It was a grinding sound. Something rough. Something with great force impressing itself upon something else. Was grinding the right word?
Even locked away, it won't just stay gone. It is an infection, an affliction upon this land!
No, grinding might have been part of the sound, but it wasn't the full sound. It was gnashing. A grinding and gnashing, a sloppy-sounding mess would start to grow louder. It pulsated. It beat. It was pounding and thumping. What was it? Was it clear to your eyes now? The darkness was gone, well the darkness around was gone, and the sound was now at its loudest.
Maybe it will never end, maybe it is inevitable? It consumed all, yet it keeps appearing from within new life.
It was chopping, it was grinding, it was gnashing, it was crunching, it was munching, it was beating, it was pounding, it was thunderously thudding, it was banging, it was loud, it was hunger, it was consuming, it was biting, it was eating, it was taking, it was hungry, it won't stop, it can't stop, it will never die, it will never end, continuing, consuming, thirsting, devouring, ingesting, swallowing, it kept taking, it will keep taking, it is part of you, you are part of it, it is down below, waiting, searching, beating, living, dying, chewing, consuming...
...until nothing else remains but it.
His eyes would begin to blink rapidly as if waking up. That sort of felt like what was happening.
"Wha-where? Where am I?"
Coming out of his stupor he would begin to assess what happened and where he was. Before him stood the building that served as the entry point to the great prison known as The Obsidian Palace. He knew of it as the prison, but why would he be at the prison?
In his eyes, the red was fading away giving way to the golden hues he regularly had. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, the last thing he remembered was talking to Neko on a roof. Now he stood before a prison clutching his chest tightly, as if trying to grab his heart.
It had been a week since he talked to Neko. 168 hours were suddenly erased from his memory and replaced with a foggy dream.
"What is wrong with me..."
...
MFT - 764
No! What are you doing?!
Was it a tapping sound? Was something, somewhere, in the darkness tapping? It could have been metal hitting metal. No, that didn't quite seem to be the sound. Could one move through the darkness? One would try. Try to move forward. There was a weight resisting against the progression, however. Was the darkness concealing mud? Some other type of sludge that attempted to impede movement?
You must control yourself!
Were you going forward? Did the sound appear to be getting closer? Slightly. Forward, however, did not seem to be the correct direction. Above? There would just be more unmitigated darkness. To the left? To the right? No, those sides did not seem to be where the sound was coming from. Below?
Your gluttonous ways have gone unchecked for too long, you must be stopped!
Why even find the source of the sound? Was it really that important to know? Yes, it was like a compulsion. The brain craves to understand, to consume the data that may be present and store it for its own selfish keepsake. So the brain hungered for knowledge. It craved it to have it, and then the personality housed within that brain would ultimately decide what to do with that knowledge. Yet the core remained the same, consuming the unknown. Consuming the know. Consuming it all.
Like a plague you return? There must be an end to this madness
Down? You hadn't tried to look down. Try that. Looking down, there would be a sensation of falling. You didn't move forward, but you did look down. So now whatever was below is no longer there. The sound is growing louder, more clarity to it as well. So whatever was no longer there was now below.
There are no guarantees... lock away The Heart, and pray that is all that is needed...
The deeper you fell, one might assume the darker, right? Not in this instance. Instead, the deeper, the lighter. Was it light? Maybe that was the wrong word. Clarity? The sound, it wasn't metal tapping, no. It was a grinding sound. Something rough. Something with great force impressing itself upon something else. Was grinding the right word?
Even locked away, it won't just stay gone. It is an infection, an affliction upon this land!
No, grinding might have been part of the sound, but it wasn't the full sound. It was gnashing. A grinding and gnashing, a sloppy-sounding mess would start to grow louder. It pulsated. It beat. It was pounding and thumping. What was it? Was it clear to your eyes now? The darkness was gone, well the darkness around was gone, and the sound was now at its loudest.
Maybe it will never end, maybe it is inevitable? It consumed all, yet it keeps appearing from within new life.
It was chopping, it was grinding, it was gnashing, it was crunching, it was munching, it was beating, it was pounding, it was thunderously thudding, it was banging, it was loud, it was hunger, it was consuming, it was biting, it was eating, it was taking, it was hungry, it won't stop, it can't stop, it will never die, it will never end, continuing, consuming, thirsting, devouring, ingesting, swallowing, it kept taking, it will keep taking, it is part of you, you are part of it, it is down below, waiting, searching, beating, living, dying, chewing, consuming...
...until nothing else remains but it.
His eyes would begin to blink rapidly as if waking up. That sort of felt like what was happening.
"Wha-where? Where am I?"
Coming out of his stupor he would begin to assess what happened and where he was. Before him stood the building that served as the entry point to the great prison known as The Obsidian Palace. He knew of it as the prison, but why would he be at the prison?
In his eyes, the red was fading away giving way to the golden hues he regularly had. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, the last thing he remembered was talking to Neko on a roof. Now he stood before a prison clutching his chest tightly, as if trying to grab his heart.
It had been a week since he talked to Neko. 168 hours were suddenly erased from his memory and replaced with a foggy dream.
"What is wrong with me..."
...