Reality: A Chaostouched Story

    • Reality: A Chaostouched Story

      When was the last time you went mad? No, not 'got angry.' Everyone does that. When did you go last go mad? Truly mad, unable to distinguish your lunch from your own shadow? When did you last let the voices have their way?

      You hear them, don't you? The soft ones, whispering at the edges of your hearing. The loud ones, demanding and roaring. The shrill ones, shrieking and gibbering. The ones that we don't even have words for, making what we can only term sounds because we don't have the capacity to express what they're generating. I suppose it's a sort of vibration after all.

      For me, it was three hours ago. I returned to my senses, as much as they can be said to be mine any longer, in the laboratory two doors down, with my vest and shirt ruined by blood, my left arm upon the table, and the replacement as you see now. Somehow, it's as dextrous as the old one, despite the protuberances being temporary and reforming as I will. A little joke, there. It might best be termed sinistrous, or sinister, as it's a left arm... thing... aha. A little pun for those of significant study. ...you seem not to appreciate it. You will, in time. Time, of course, is one of the few things we have in abundance. We have all of time.


      The meteor disrupted things. It's also made other things easier. Volosolov, Frostheart, the others... they are aspects, shaped by their experiences. The others never had to deal with those. Even the entities from beyond are not the same as the border-entities. The ones that call. The ones that invite madness by their very existence, let alone their interaction. The seeress* gets it. Whether cursed or blessed, it matters not. We are their chosen, destined to bring their vision of reality to fruition. And they can be patient, as can we. Please do stop squirming.


      Reality as we understood it is akin to a jar, sealed and bordered by a strong, impermeable membrane... though ultimately transparent. Those that form the border, the ones that make sounds... are akin to a pressure valve. Madness is our form of... release. It allows us to let the pressure out, without breaking, as the guardians and entities prevent and wish, respectively. Does this make us other than tidy, fit-in puzzle pieces or cogs in a great machine? ...Yes. You are beginning to see. Allow yourself some... release.


      * Void Star, The Sightless