Curled into a little cream ball of fur within my mindscape, the lilac eyes I used to have reflected in an unnatural glow they never had... against the impossible sideways glass cup of rippling water I’ve been staring into. Wondering idly what would actually happen if it was either poured out...
> Or poured into by any more than this, by the people that have been trying to tell that it is alright to have a full glass. Yes, I know, I’m being dramatic. That I am not a ’teenager’ anymore. <
Yet still, I am thinking of the taphor that focuses on what sothing *is* at the mont of observation. Because that suggests the way we react to the world at any given mont. Whether one is an optimist or a cynic.
An optimist would look at everything that has happened to and all that I’ve gained - in this world or the last - before likely declaring that every worry I still have will ’work out’. Which tells all I need to know to qualify... that such a thing is not what I am.
My heart sank deeply when the witch did not react at all. I’d been hoping soone connected to mystical energies might be able to sense the system in ways others couldn’t. Just like part of hoped, even terrified that it would occur, that Zoé might have given so clues as a werewolf.
> Humans, shifters, and even witches. I’m alone with this thing, aren’t I? Yes, you kind of know what’s going on at all tis too. <
Again, a fully positive thinker would think to make the most of that. Maybe try to be this world’s king at the end of all this? Amass all kinds of power to make the most of the apocalypse.
"Instead this thing was put into . ! A vixen with all the ambition of a house cat that wants to run out of an opened door. What bullshit. She would have made much better use of sothing like this!"
After my wolf gave back control from its ti running free, we transford into Helene’s body and I scream this into the back of a cave that Martha told about. I then sigh and rub at my face for the effort.
Trying to find sothing else to do for a while, in the middle of the day, than sit around and make chickens uncomfortable with my glances is not proving distracting at all. Yet, I still open the map in my vision and let | Survivor’s Wisdom | do it’s work.
> It’s not a bad place. But the system still gives it an 8 for post-apocalypse rating. It’s kind of frustrating that it has such concrete info that it can predict things like this... but won’t give any of it. <
Glancing at all the numbers in panels that scroll on the side, looking like old computer code in blue misty foxfire, makes believe I may just be ignorant... and it has told all along. But while I am no good at math, I do know that ciphers are notoriously ti intensive to break without any kind of hints.
Which is why simple ones were so effective in my world. Perhaps I could ask Claire, but I’d then have to transcribe all of this by hand... and I’ve never even been able to stare at any of it long enough to see if it has start and end repeating patterns of information!
"Speaking of a sort of design repeating, I think it was pretty clear that I was right. Yes, yes... you should praise more, stupid wolf."
Sitting on a surprisingly smooth outcropping, I kick my feet and open the Pack Roster once again. Floating off to the side is a new interface connected to it. One that was introduced right after annexing Mrs. Callaway.
Proving, in my royal opinion, that certain people do indeed give certain perks. Or at the very least, certain types of people. Because how else would one explain unlocking what was called an | Occultic Reservoir | imdiately after adding a magic practitioner to my pack?
Thanks to the new... ability, ntally tapping on everyone not only places their Tracking marker on the map, but also tells their... value? Which is to say that Martha is worth six of *sothing* that I’ve assud after these hours to be a ’rate of gain’.
Filling the reservoir by that much every... so amount of ti. It’s math, so I really haven’t tried that hard. The main takeaway is that people I add now can apparently do that.
Except everyone else so far was listed as exactly zero. That would be another reason I sought out a sort of far away cave...
"She is still a six. So either I am not far enough away yet for the degradation to begin or there is not any in the first place. It really just could be that she practices a form of mysticism - and the others do not."
When I finish speaking my thoughts, my heel strikes the stone underneath a bit hard and I wince. Then... I smile. One of the reasons I always liked being in caves alone was that I could be as much of an idiot as I wanted to.
No courtiers, retainers, servants, attendants, guards, or family mbers to chuckle at , worry over , or scold directly just for not being perfectly careful. It is unbelievable how relaxing it is to be able to make mistakes without it feeling like the end of the world.
> Yes... yes that was intended to be a joke about what is coming. Good catch. <
Rolling over from the glass cup I’d been staring at in my mindscape, making it disappear as I look up from the slab of Composure - past Vrika and to the small but kind of bright point of new starlight overhead.
A new feature that remains there, no doubt a representation of the Occultic Reservoir... no matter what sort of change to the environnt I try to make. More proof that what this trickster system is doing is having potentially permanent effects on my soul. The worst part?
"What the nineteen hells is this thing supposed to even do?!"
No instructions, no use thods, just a new interface and new numbers that go up. I hate it. I hate math.
Reviews
All reviews (0)