[Area] Post-null bubble
Mar 11, 2017 22:07:07 GMT -8
Post by flightlessicarus on Mar 11, 2017 22:07:07 GMT -8
The Null has been removed from this dimension forevermore.
However, the once unlucky souls who had carried it with them still persist.
This is their final resting place.
Nil opens his eyes.
For a moment they hold a false image, of pale blue eyes, but it doesn't take long for that illusion to be broken. Like every other illusion that has ever tried to grace his presence.
His eyes fade back to their accurately blank form as he comes to his senses, however the fuck ghosts do that.
Just an eternity ago, he was one with so many others. So many others that had shared his pain, So many that had been tasked with something they could hardly even handle.
...as well as a nakkadile from a separate version of his own session.
It was only for one second that they had united into one being, but it was enough time to truly understand that they were not alone in their suffering.
But with the one thing that they had shared taken away in the Great Blast of Death that ensued, what will they define themselves upon in this renewed afterlife?
A taxi cab with large graceful bat wings swoops down from above.
Nil stares at it, as do many of the others scattered about the slowly solidifying patchwork dreamscape.
It lands in a clearing where a field of golden wheat has appeared from an unknown memory. The wheat sways gently in a warm breeze.
The doors open, pushing some of the tall wheat away from the cab.
A group of elves climb out of the back seat of the taxicab.
Seems mostly unimportant to Nil.
He sits down upon an elaborate throne of quartz, much like the crystalline throne he once sat upon in the crypt of that island he had exiled himself to before.
No, too magnificent, Need to tone it down a bit.
Nil is now sitting on a barstool of quartz, for the sake of modesty amongst his peers.
Peers that aren't even seths.
It's at this point that Nil feels that sinking feeling one gets when they realize they're in an unfamiliar place amongst those only barely recognized, but ultimately unfamiliar.
He summons his black coat for comfort and puts it on.
At least he has that for him.
A notification noise from his sylladex.
He still has something that can be notified?
Nil checks his black array modus and pulls out a laptop, or at very least, the remembered copy of a laptop.
Somebody mentioned his name on the messageboard apparently.
Somebody remembered him...?
However, the once unlucky souls who had carried it with them still persist.
This is their final resting place.
Nil opens his eyes.
For a moment they hold a false image, of pale blue eyes, but it doesn't take long for that illusion to be broken. Like every other illusion that has ever tried to grace his presence.
His eyes fade back to their accurately blank form as he comes to his senses, however the fuck ghosts do that.
Just an eternity ago, he was one with so many others. So many others that had shared his pain, So many that had been tasked with something they could hardly even handle.
...as well as a nakkadile from a separate version of his own session.
It was only for one second that they had united into one being, but it was enough time to truly understand that they were not alone in their suffering.
But with the one thing that they had shared taken away in the Great Blast of Death that ensued, what will they define themselves upon in this renewed afterlife?
A taxi cab with large graceful bat wings swoops down from above.
Nil stares at it, as do many of the others scattered about the slowly solidifying patchwork dreamscape.
It lands in a clearing where a field of golden wheat has appeared from an unknown memory. The wheat sways gently in a warm breeze.
The doors open, pushing some of the tall wheat away from the cab.
A group of elves climb out of the back seat of the taxicab.
Seems mostly unimportant to Nil.
He sits down upon an elaborate throne of quartz, much like the crystalline throne he once sat upon in the crypt of that island he had exiled himself to before.
No, too magnificent, Need to tone it down a bit.
Nil is now sitting on a barstool of quartz, for the sake of modesty amongst his peers.
Peers that aren't even seths.
It's at this point that Nil feels that sinking feeling one gets when they realize they're in an unfamiliar place amongst those only barely recognized, but ultimately unfamiliar.
He summons his black coat for comfort and puts it on.
At least he has that for him.
A notification noise from his sylladex.
He still has something that can be notified?
Nil checks his black array modus and pulls out a laptop, or at very least, the remembered copy of a laptop.
Somebody mentioned his name on the messageboard apparently.
Somebody remembered him...?
