RE: The Grand Battle S2G1! [Round Five: Round Six!]
08-20-2013, 08:42 AM
I'll concede
you, you aberration,
you saved the multiverse a thousand times over
but
Maybe
just maybe
if you'd tried dying for the multiverse once
Just realised you're no better than the rest of us, no less ultimately meaningless in the machinations that drive these outer spaces
You could've saved yourself so much grief
Your winning streak only continued
after all
until the Observer tipped the board against you
You played into his hands Kracht
You summed your existence by his twisted metrics and look where it's gotten you
You donned the martyr's crown and the hero's sword because you thought you were special
Like the multiverse couldn't go on without you
The Moon
was one day past full, her black smirk askew and widening by the minute to a genuine smile as she danced staid circles with the sun. Her countenance was a purple that no interior decorating could fix, borrowed from an always-distant Father; her seas, of such tranquility that not even the Amalgam's forces could bring themselves to break it. Their toil was subdued; their task, hallowed.
Jen leapt into action, or at least leapt into the presumed-air and drifted the rest of the way into action. The apex of her jump brought the Place sliding into view, dizzyingly far below. Someone had completely messed up its geography, yanking the centre up into a series of mountains and rearranging the whole thing into a perfect circle. The Silver City encroached from all angles, occupying an edge of her vision whichever part of the Place she examined.
Jen landed atop the explosive, sprung from that, and sliced an Amalgonaut's head clean off. The other three met a similar fate, crumpling out of existence like so much hyperdimensional tissue paper. That left her with a gently-falling bomb, whose innards she impaled before shoving it up-and-awaywards for lack of better options.
"Moo!"
Came a cry of consternation. Jen couldn't place the accent, and the sun just got into her upside-down eyes when she tried to see who she'd almost kicked a bomb into.
Arkal considered for a moment grabbing it, but his ride moo!ed a protest and his smith's eye saw right through it as a devalued piece of a whole.
"Moo!" Arkal reached around for his suddenly-weightless forge at the peak of the jump, before the now-rapidly approaching Place Terrestria rose up to greet him. The silver-rimmed disc blurred into a forest, then a clearing in a grove of tangle-limbed pines.
The cow mooed a reassurance below Arkal, who dismounted. The air was dusted double purple with pollen and twilight. This patch of forest was called the Last Stand, and indeed was where the Pinezantium Consul picked as their resting spot after losing (in a series of sappy massacres) the Echoak War. The cow nodded at a cottage on the edge of the meadow, and Arkal espied something mostly humanoid dozing in a wicker chair on the porch.
"Does that man know where to find the cultist?"
"Moo."
"Right," grumbled Arkal. "That's really convenient."
"Moo!"
"And you just happened to know where this final cultist lived?"
"Moo," shrugged the cow.
"Don't you take that tone just because your story doesn't check out. You were trying to lynch me not twenty minutes ago."
"Moo!" retorted the cow. Then, "moo," as an afterthought.
"Huh," said Arkal. "Never really thought of it like that. Fair enough."
The Stars
were like the Fates, scattered cosmic children of dubious mythological position or origin. Much like the stars, it seemed, they were only there as an easy reference so you knew just how far from home you were. There wasn't all that much special about the stars in the Place's night sky, except you could pick one out and know it was your own (non-heliocentric systems of origin need not apply), and you could have that noted down by the Librarian in a handsome black-bound book made specifically for the purpose - unless someone had already beaten you to the big sparkly one you'd picked out, in which case you could always choose another.
The Catastrologus Ludunt Puerum was presently opened out to its very sexy centrefold, which unfolded in a very sexy and impossible way into a star map big enough to cover the entire floorspace of the Library's observatory. Xadrez was having trouble getting his bearings, because quite a few distant suns were either devoured by cosmic monsters or sealed away behind Dyson spheres, or had been otherwise erased from local pseudo-linearity. The light pollution from the Silver City and the full moon weren't helping matters, either.
Kajura the Norn knocked at the trapdoor, then lifted it up anyway, slithering under the paper until she found an edge. She peered across the expanse of blackest vellum, flicking her eyelids at the once-general.
Wasn't there something else you were supposed to be doing, sighed Xadrez. The Norn just laughed her crystalline laugh, not bothering to ask him the same.
That the Place of all locales was
will be
the last stronghold against the human invasion baffles me
this cosmology laid out here a fine demonstration of how readily it entangles itself with other worlds
Explain to me this, Fate
how did this world survive through such gross embroilment with the rest of the multiverse
where mine, sequestered, shattered, fell apart with one lone stroke
She shimmered back under the map, hiss-humming to herself until she bumped into the Catastrologus proper. Your star?
My what
Your sun, sighed Kajura, jabbing one claw to a neatly-labelled star and another to its skybound counterpart. The pivot to your world's spinning, the satellite (parent)? The origin?
You mean the eye of Origin
don't you
But that hardly hangs in the sky like your violet fireball there for all and sundry to see
how would you even see it from Beyond with Her cloak surrounding it
Xadrez frowned, mentally grappling to imagine something he'd never imagined having to imagine. He made vague hand motions along the lines of some kind of hemisphere, looking more bewildered than actively frustrated.
How would you even
what would the Cloak look like from without
Kajura giggled. The trapdoor burst open.
The SunConverse Xodapop
was having real-people problems. Namely, a bad case of the still-existences, despite having filed all the requisite paperwork to check out a narratively-relative ages ago. His partner in the anarchist-surreal buddy cop rock opera that was his side of the story sensed his unease. It didn't approve of this altruism business, not even for the stability of wider existence. Especially for the stability of wider existence.
The percussion to Xodapop's bassline growled a protesting vibrato beneath his fingers on the fretboard, but the Time Shredder was already on the move.
As Xodapop arpeggio'd furiously through history and chord progressions, his sort-of promise to Kracht came to mind. His threat to go back and stop Emma hadn't been an idle one, but it really was a last resort. There was enough uncertainty in the future for his muse to convolute itself into the cracks of reality, but the past was iffy at best and a ten-cello pileup being scheduled every Sunday until the heats-death of the multiverse at worst.
As he approached his destination, something clashed like fuchsia and mauve, grabbing the Shredder by the source of his powers and doing something very unpleasant to it. Xodapop knew better than to stop playing, and crescendoed into existence right behind his green friend. Xadrez was up against the wall, disc akilter and bashing Kracht around the head with his chunkiest chess piece. Kracht had him pinned there by the Middle-Gem, punching the black disc like a prizefighter and getting increasingly pissed off (as opposed to bored or disillusioned) when it reacted completely unlike a fleshy biped to his blows.
The Norn in the corner immediately turned hostile, the more feminine aspects of its appearance rearranging into something primal and vicious. Her two sisters materialised in the tower, their hissing an invitation to leave that was almost as universal as the language of music. Almost.
"Steady on, cats and kitties," chuckled Xodapop. Xadrez stopped braining Kracht long enough for the latter to realise something was up.
"Who the fuck are you supposed to be?" yelled Kracht, still not quite willing to get off his machismo high that came from finally giving Xadrez what was coming to him. Converse beamed in a guileless way you couldn't practice.
"Kracht, my rockerfeller! Now, I'm gonna trust you to jive with this, but I'm a buddy of yours in a roundabout sort of way-"
Kracht bristled, still with a knee on Xadrez' chessboard, but a garbled shriek from Kajura's jaws drowned out whatever retort he had. The Norns had arranged themselves in a triangle, the threads of life they had been weaving extending like a net.
"Your patron threatens this world, wanderer
We will not abide its incursion
Say your piece and leave"
"Ladies, let me assure you that my 'piece' is long, riveting, and certainly not digestible in a single sitting. I can, however-" Xodapop hastened, when Peppi did something to her face that put all the teeth on the outside "-give you the sampler." He fiddled with his mechanical arm for a bit, until it spat out a Time Cop Regulation h-USB 32.0 drive. It was about the size of a thumbnail, and glinted in a way that Converse hoped wasn't menacing. "Now this, this is a data packet my friend Kracht needs-"
"I've never met you," snapped Kracht. Peppi lunged for the chip, Xodapop tossed it at Kracht, and Xadrez instinctively snatched it when Kracht gave insufficient fucks to try and catch it.
"-For the stability of wider reality! I beg of you!"
Kracht and Xadrez watched the Norns encircle, ensnare, and forcibly drag the Time Shredder with them out of existence. Xadrez, still with a fist in his throat and a knee at his chessboard, twirled the data stick in his fingertips.
---
Elsewhich in nowhere, time hiccoughed up a lung.
---
Ok, said Xadrez, to the fist and the knee and the rest of Kracht. I'll finally concede
you've dealt admirably with more than your fair share of the ridiculous on your journey
I'll still not redact the point that it's all your own d-
Kracht punched Xadrez across the face, which merely roiled and lost its shape a bit rather than breaking in any satisfying fashion.
"Stop talking like that," snarled Kracht. "And give me that!"
Xadrez did not give Kracht the Middle-Gem, but it wasn't like batting a ghostly hand across his features did all that much. Kracht tried to yank the gem with both hands out of Xadrez' chest. The tactician offered no resistance, and an overexerting Kracht landed on his chiselled backside and pulled Xadrez down with him.
The spirit leered, ineffectually pawing at the ineffectual green hands in his throat.
Would that I could, yet as best I discern you'd have to kill me for it
And I should think you have done quite enough of thugh-
Kracht, still prone, kicked him in the board.
Have you THUD taken complete leave THUD of your senses THUD
Kracht
This gem THUD and its bearer THUD are this dominion's hyper-literal THUD moral compass
What message does beating it out of me transmit
self-sworn protector of the Place
Kracht froze, then scrambled to his feet and seemed to collect himself. Xadrez unslouched, clutching a hand to his insubstantial cheek.
"I don't really care if you're - a real - the real Xadrez, some obnoxious cameo round version of him from someone else's battle, or you're something else borrowing his face." Kracht wasn't sure whether that hurt more to say, or to treat all of that as serious possibilities. "Whatever you are, I care more about protecting the Place from Cedric than you care about being a goddamn obstruction."
Oh please
it's not like you're a real battler
This is the endgame
the you that mattered was just a hanging pawn in a midgame exchange
Kracht creaked, like exactly half of him tried to tackle Xadrez then and there. "I killed you," he finally growled.
Xadrez tilted his head in his hand, brought the other to his elbow. Right
yes
you've only killed me and Jen and Arkal a functionally-infinite number of times there's no need to gloat
A chess piece flew through Xadrez' face, and cracked in two against the wall. Kracht was upon him in an instant, upon the board; one fist was clamped round the Middle-Gem and the other was punching, swiping, doing whatever he could to scatter the spectre.
"You fucking bastard! You fucker! You're the one that killed her!"
the first time? sure, why not
I don't doubt she got in the way of your survival many times after the fact though
The Middle-gem glowed warmth like a maladapted plug in a socket. Kracht lurched back to All-Stars Round 4 - Cryostasis Hangar 5. Even a copy could have her kindness, hide it under those same shrouds of scorn and teenage egocentricity. She'd told him, don't blame yourself for what happened. You were brave. By the sound of it, you've only gotten braver, and if you tell yourself otherwise you need to shut the hell up. Ok?
Ok. Xadrez was still dangling by the Gem, his outline scattered across half as much space as usual, the mist above his shoulders slowly coalescing back into infuriating apathy.
He didn't care. Kracht was trying to save the fucking multiverse and Xadrez had come crawling out of whatever afterlife he subscribed to, with no motive or allegiance beyond "fuck you, Kracht. Fuck you for killing me."
"Once," Kracht finally said to his feet. "I killed you once."
He looked up, to where Xadrez' eyes would be in a minute or two. "I don't get what you mean that I've killed you all those other times. Why would I do that? Why do you think I'd suffer through all that? Why would you think I could? I'm not brave or strong like Emma."
Emma's smile came to him in that moment, the genuine one that hid behind the wall of fire and lit up the world like a sun. Kracht slid off Xadrez' board, unclasped the Middle-Gem with a difficulty he'd sooner associate with muscle and bone.
"I don't know who had to kill you a thousand times, Xadrez. If it was me, I can't see how I'd ever enjoy it. You were cruel, sure, but more than that you were desperate."
There was enough of Xadrez again to actually look him in the face. It was to Kracht's incomprehension that Xadrez reflected that same emotion in his posture (which proved time and again more expressive than his face), the never-seen slack tension of utter bewilderment. It took one awkward second before Kracht followed his glance and picked up a stray chess piece.
Do you mean to tell me
you've never repeated the battle
Uh,
"Yeah?"
Never died
never been
or rather
are yet to be
thrown into a time loop that will force you to repeat our battle
Kracht didn't say anything, because he had no idea what Xadrez was talking about. The tactician reached for his shoulder, his fingers recoiling straight after like a guillotine had fallen before them.
I
I'm such an idiot
I have blundered
made a gross and unconscionable miscalculation
---
Elsewhen entirely, causality (analogously, Tia) downed time's (analogously, Converse's) lung with a satisfied snap of its jaws.
you, you aberration,
you saved the multiverse a thousand times over
but
Maybe
just maybe
if you'd tried dying for the multiverse once
Just realised you're no better than the rest of us, no less ultimately meaningless in the machinations that drive these outer spaces
You could've saved yourself so much grief
Your winning streak only continued
after all
until the Observer tipped the board against you
You played into his hands Kracht
You summed your existence by his twisted metrics and look where it's gotten you
You donned the martyr's crown and the hero's sword because you thought you were special
Like the multiverse couldn't go on without you
The Moon
was one day past full, her black smirk askew and widening by the minute to a genuine smile as she danced staid circles with the sun. Her countenance was a purple that no interior decorating could fix, borrowed from an always-distant Father; her seas, of such tranquility that not even the Amalgam's forces could bring themselves to break it. Their toil was subdued; their task, hallowed.
Jen leapt into action, or at least leapt into the presumed-air and drifted the rest of the way into action. The apex of her jump brought the Place sliding into view, dizzyingly far below. Someone had completely messed up its geography, yanking the centre up into a series of mountains and rearranging the whole thing into a perfect circle. The Silver City encroached from all angles, occupying an edge of her vision whichever part of the Place she examined.
Jen landed atop the explosive, sprung from that, and sliced an Amalgonaut's head clean off. The other three met a similar fate, crumpling out of existence like so much hyperdimensional tissue paper. That left her with a gently-falling bomb, whose innards she impaled before shoving it up-and-awaywards for lack of better options.
"Moo!"
Came a cry of consternation. Jen couldn't place the accent, and the sun just got into her upside-down eyes when she tried to see who she'd almost kicked a bomb into.
Arkal considered for a moment grabbing it, but his ride moo!ed a protest and his smith's eye saw right through it as a devalued piece of a whole.
"Moo!" Arkal reached around for his suddenly-weightless forge at the peak of the jump, before the now-rapidly approaching Place Terrestria rose up to greet him. The silver-rimmed disc blurred into a forest, then a clearing in a grove of tangle-limbed pines.
The cow mooed a reassurance below Arkal, who dismounted. The air was dusted double purple with pollen and twilight. This patch of forest was called the Last Stand, and indeed was where the Pinezantium Consul picked as their resting spot after losing (in a series of sappy massacres) the Echoak War. The cow nodded at a cottage on the edge of the meadow, and Arkal espied something mostly humanoid dozing in a wicker chair on the porch.
"Does that man know where to find the cultist?"
"Moo."
"Right," grumbled Arkal. "That's really convenient."
"Moo!"
"And you just happened to know where this final cultist lived?"
"Moo," shrugged the cow.
"Don't you take that tone just because your story doesn't check out. You were trying to lynch me not twenty minutes ago."
"Moo!" retorted the cow. Then, "moo," as an afterthought.
"Huh," said Arkal. "Never really thought of it like that. Fair enough."
The Stars
were like the Fates, scattered cosmic children of dubious mythological position or origin. Much like the stars, it seemed, they were only there as an easy reference so you knew just how far from home you were. There wasn't all that much special about the stars in the Place's night sky, except you could pick one out and know it was your own (non-heliocentric systems of origin need not apply), and you could have that noted down by the Librarian in a handsome black-bound book made specifically for the purpose - unless someone had already beaten you to the big sparkly one you'd picked out, in which case you could always choose another.
The Catastrologus Ludunt Puerum was presently opened out to its very sexy centrefold, which unfolded in a very sexy and impossible way into a star map big enough to cover the entire floorspace of the Library's observatory. Xadrez was having trouble getting his bearings, because quite a few distant suns were either devoured by cosmic monsters or sealed away behind Dyson spheres, or had been otherwise erased from local pseudo-linearity. The light pollution from the Silver City and the full moon weren't helping matters, either.
Kajura the Norn knocked at the trapdoor, then lifted it up anyway, slithering under the paper until she found an edge. She peered across the expanse of blackest vellum, flicking her eyelids at the once-general.
Wasn't there something else you were supposed to be doing, sighed Xadrez. The Norn just laughed her crystalline laugh, not bothering to ask him the same.
That the Place of all locales was
will be
the last stronghold against the human invasion baffles me
this cosmology laid out here a fine demonstration of how readily it entangles itself with other worlds
Explain to me this, Fate
how did this world survive through such gross embroilment with the rest of the multiverse
where mine, sequestered, shattered, fell apart with one lone stroke
She shimmered back under the map, hiss-humming to herself until she bumped into the Catastrologus proper. Your star?
My what
Your sun, sighed Kajura, jabbing one claw to a neatly-labelled star and another to its skybound counterpart. The pivot to your world's spinning, the satellite (parent)? The origin?
You mean the eye of Origin
don't you
But that hardly hangs in the sky like your violet fireball there for all and sundry to see
how would you even see it from Beyond with Her cloak surrounding it
Xadrez frowned, mentally grappling to imagine something he'd never imagined having to imagine. He made vague hand motions along the lines of some kind of hemisphere, looking more bewildered than actively frustrated.
How would you even
what would the Cloak look like from without
Kajura giggled. The trapdoor burst open.
was having real-people problems. Namely, a bad case of the still-existences, despite having filed all the requisite paperwork to check out a narratively-relative ages ago. His partner in the anarchist-surreal buddy cop rock opera that was his side of the story sensed his unease. It didn't approve of this altruism business, not even for the stability of wider existence. Especially for the stability of wider existence.
The percussion to Xodapop's bassline growled a protesting vibrato beneath his fingers on the fretboard, but the Time Shredder was already on the move.
As Xodapop arpeggio'd furiously through history and chord progressions, his sort-of promise to Kracht came to mind. His threat to go back and stop Emma hadn't been an idle one, but it really was a last resort. There was enough uncertainty in the future for his muse to convolute itself into the cracks of reality, but the past was iffy at best and a ten-cello pileup being scheduled every Sunday until the heats-death of the multiverse at worst.
As he approached his destination, something clashed like fuchsia and mauve, grabbing the Shredder by the source of his powers and doing something very unpleasant to it. Xodapop knew better than to stop playing, and crescendoed into existence right behind his green friend. Xadrez was up against the wall, disc akilter and bashing Kracht around the head with his chunkiest chess piece. Kracht had him pinned there by the Middle-Gem, punching the black disc like a prizefighter and getting increasingly pissed off (as opposed to bored or disillusioned) when it reacted completely unlike a fleshy biped to his blows.
The Norn in the corner immediately turned hostile, the more feminine aspects of its appearance rearranging into something primal and vicious. Her two sisters materialised in the tower, their hissing an invitation to leave that was almost as universal as the language of music. Almost.
"Steady on, cats and kitties," chuckled Xodapop. Xadrez stopped braining Kracht long enough for the latter to realise something was up.
"Who the fuck are you supposed to be?" yelled Kracht, still not quite willing to get off his machismo high that came from finally giving Xadrez what was coming to him. Converse beamed in a guileless way you couldn't practice.
"Kracht, my rockerfeller! Now, I'm gonna trust you to jive with this, but I'm a buddy of yours in a roundabout sort of way-"
Kracht bristled, still with a knee on Xadrez' chessboard, but a garbled shriek from Kajura's jaws drowned out whatever retort he had. The Norns had arranged themselves in a triangle, the threads of life they had been weaving extending like a net.
"Your patron threatens this world, wanderer
We will not abide its incursion
Say your piece and leave"
"Ladies, let me assure you that my 'piece' is long, riveting, and certainly not digestible in a single sitting. I can, however-" Xodapop hastened, when Peppi did something to her face that put all the teeth on the outside "-give you the sampler." He fiddled with his mechanical arm for a bit, until it spat out a Time Cop Regulation h-USB 32.0 drive. It was about the size of a thumbnail, and glinted in a way that Converse hoped wasn't menacing. "Now this, this is a data packet my friend Kracht needs-"
"I've never met you," snapped Kracht. Peppi lunged for the chip, Xodapop tossed it at Kracht, and Xadrez instinctively snatched it when Kracht gave insufficient fucks to try and catch it.
"-For the stability of wider reality! I beg of you!"
Kracht and Xadrez watched the Norns encircle, ensnare, and forcibly drag the Time Shredder with them out of existence. Xadrez, still with a fist in his throat and a knee at his chessboard, twirled the data stick in his fingertips.
---
Elsewhich in nowhere, time hiccoughed up a lung.
---
Ok, said Xadrez, to the fist and the knee and the rest of Kracht. I'll finally concede
you've dealt admirably with more than your fair share of the ridiculous on your journey
I'll still not redact the point that it's all your own d-
Kracht punched Xadrez across the face, which merely roiled and lost its shape a bit rather than breaking in any satisfying fashion.
"Stop talking like that," snarled Kracht. "And give me that!"
Xadrez did not give Kracht the Middle-Gem, but it wasn't like batting a ghostly hand across his features did all that much. Kracht tried to yank the gem with both hands out of Xadrez' chest. The tactician offered no resistance, and an overexerting Kracht landed on his chiselled backside and pulled Xadrez down with him.
The spirit leered, ineffectually pawing at the ineffectual green hands in his throat.
Would that I could, yet as best I discern you'd have to kill me for it
And I should think you have done quite enough of thugh-
Kracht, still prone, kicked him in the board.
Have you THUD taken complete leave THUD of your senses THUD
Kracht
This gem THUD and its bearer THUD are this dominion's hyper-literal THUD moral compass
What message does beating it out of me transmit
self-sworn protector of the Place
Kracht froze, then scrambled to his feet and seemed to collect himself. Xadrez unslouched, clutching a hand to his insubstantial cheek.
"I don't really care if you're - a real - the real Xadrez, some obnoxious cameo round version of him from someone else's battle, or you're something else borrowing his face." Kracht wasn't sure whether that hurt more to say, or to treat all of that as serious possibilities. "Whatever you are, I care more about protecting the Place from Cedric than you care about being a goddamn obstruction."
Oh please
it's not like you're a real battler
This is the endgame
the you that mattered was just a hanging pawn in a midgame exchange
Kracht creaked, like exactly half of him tried to tackle Xadrez then and there. "I killed you," he finally growled.
Xadrez tilted his head in his hand, brought the other to his elbow. Right
yes
you've only killed me and Jen and Arkal a functionally-infinite number of times there's no need to gloat
A chess piece flew through Xadrez' face, and cracked in two against the wall. Kracht was upon him in an instant, upon the board; one fist was clamped round the Middle-Gem and the other was punching, swiping, doing whatever he could to scatter the spectre.
"You fucking bastard! You fucker! You're the one that killed her!"
the first time? sure, why not
I don't doubt she got in the way of your survival many times after the fact though
The Middle-gem glowed warmth like a maladapted plug in a socket. Kracht lurched back to All-Stars Round 4 - Cryostasis Hangar 5. Even a copy could have her kindness, hide it under those same shrouds of scorn and teenage egocentricity. She'd told him, don't blame yourself for what happened. You were brave. By the sound of it, you've only gotten braver, and if you tell yourself otherwise you need to shut the hell up. Ok?
Ok. Xadrez was still dangling by the Gem, his outline scattered across half as much space as usual, the mist above his shoulders slowly coalescing back into infuriating apathy.
He didn't care. Kracht was trying to save the fucking multiverse and Xadrez had come crawling out of whatever afterlife he subscribed to, with no motive or allegiance beyond "fuck you, Kracht. Fuck you for killing me."
"Once," Kracht finally said to his feet. "I killed you once."
He looked up, to where Xadrez' eyes would be in a minute or two. "I don't get what you mean that I've killed you all those other times. Why would I do that? Why do you think I'd suffer through all that? Why would you think I could? I'm not brave or strong like Emma."
Emma's smile came to him in that moment, the genuine one that hid behind the wall of fire and lit up the world like a sun. Kracht slid off Xadrez' board, unclasped the Middle-Gem with a difficulty he'd sooner associate with muscle and bone.
"I don't know who had to kill you a thousand times, Xadrez. If it was me, I can't see how I'd ever enjoy it. You were cruel, sure, but more than that you were desperate."
There was enough of Xadrez again to actually look him in the face. It was to Kracht's incomprehension that Xadrez reflected that same emotion in his posture (which proved time and again more expressive than his face), the never-seen slack tension of utter bewilderment. It took one awkward second before Kracht followed his glance and picked up a stray chess piece.
Do you mean to tell me
you've never repeated the battle
Uh,
"Yeah?"
Never died
never been
or rather
are yet to be
thrown into a time loop that will force you to repeat our battle
Kracht didn't say anything, because he had no idea what Xadrez was talking about. The tactician reached for his shoulder, his fingers recoiling straight after like a guillotine had fallen before them.
I
I'm such an idiot
I have blundered
made a gross and unconscionable miscalculation
---
Elsewhen entirely, causality (analogously, Tia) downed time's (analogously, Converse's) lung with a satisfied snap of its jaws.
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow