Thoughtscript Runed Stone

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Xilotzen
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Thoughtscript Runed Stone

Post by Xilotzen » 01/26/16

This palm sized, rectangular cut larimar stone was a swirling mix of ivory and azure. Like an sea crest, the stone's colors seemed to reflect the place it was harvest from. Tiny etchings marred the entire surface of the bauble, seemingly non-sensible script that was its only adornment.

When held, it is warm and begins to form condensation. This substance allows the holder to communicate with the stone and hear the thoughts trapped within...

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Xilotzen
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Re: Thoughtscript Runed Stone

Post by Xilotzen » 01/26/16

Thoughts begin to bubble up as the stone is grasped. Fluid begins to overflow through your fingers and onto the floor.

I keep hearing its call when I drift through the older portions of Neriak. Misty and sultry it beckons; I cannot understand its promises, but I know its hunger and debased needs. Savage desire is known by most with but a mere sampling and that undulating horror beneath the Fugue is ever hungry. In my mind I can see its grasping and clutching, it's biting and licking, it's nearly formless mass that drifts in and out of the shadows in the corner of the eye.

It touches the mirrors in the back, warping them briefly as its giant, cyclopean orbs watch what it so eagerly feeds from. I can see its tendrils inserting themselves into the patrons: it manifest as the mists they so eagerly inhale. It's profanely arousing the way it stimulates the patrons; I want to feel it enter into me again so that I might sample from it as well. It is neither and both sexes, both alien and familiar...so heavy has it fed in the eons that it becomes difficult to see where it ends and where what it consumes begins.

Soon...I will come to know it more intimately. I will allow it to touch me everywhere and I will reach out in return...

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Xilotzen
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Re: Thoughtscript Runed Stone

Post by Xilotzen » 01/29/16

The stone's fluid is viscous and almost gelatinous as it slowly leaks and beads upon the surface.

I don't mind killing.

I do not enjoy it, normally. It's merely is the end of cognitive thought - not necessarily the stopping of the body's organs. For one such as me, I get nothing more from the once-being. It is nothing more than a rock or a chair; something that no longer has the potential to be entertaining.

Sometimes, the thought of killing someone interests me. What will think of last? There is always that fight at first, but when they grow weak, they accept their fate and those last minutes of thought...oh, the things you may hear. That alone, when I was more inexperienced, was enough to drive me to finding various people to murder. A laundry woman. A street urchin. An old man that sat alone in the park. They all think different thoughts as they expire. However, one thing is constant: no matter how horrible their lives, they still want to continue living.

Once they breath no more, those thoughts stop. They are gone and there is nothing more to learn or enjoy. The first time that happened, I kicked the woman's head in because I was so enraged. I had to burn those damned boots because her gore stained the leather too deeply. Yet another reason that I will never be an assassin: it's messy.

There is a sensation of the thoughts dulling, either from alcohol or drugs. The thoughts continue.

I have come to enjoy controlling others: puppeting their bodies to do things most uncharacteristic of themselves. I have not managed to force someone to actually stab themselves to death, but I have made them hurt themselves. The shock and confusion of the action is bittersweet because fear too quickly clouds the experience and dominates away all rational thoughts. Thus I have turned to narcotics to dull that terror.

It is a difficult skill. I have not mastered it. I try to find a pleasant balance that allows the subject to experience the event but not to be overwhelmed by maddening fright. I aim for a stomach churning dread. Something that is constantly on the mind, in the background, leaving the victim in control of themselves to an extent.

The thoughts pause as new sensations leak into the recording. They are wet and warm and begin to build a mounting sensation of erotic pleasure.

It is in this vein of thought that I have derived my latest study. I have given someone else a present and I have designs to share with her some of what I love about this over population of other bipeds on this wretched planet. It is my hope that she will enjoy it overly, even more so when I relay those thoughts that she wrestles out of the flesh...be they pleasurable or painful or both.

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