Post by Gilsin on Oct 6, 2008 7:10:33 GMT 1
The dark apartment was bare of nearly everything. Only a laptop, a zune, and a mattress covered in assorted blankets and sheets were identifiable in the loosely organized place. The walls would look alive in the dim electric light. If one were there to look closer they would see the reason. Black sharpie littered the walls in intricate designs and geometric shapes. Constantly interlinked but it was easy to tell there was a pattern. Some sections flowed, long curved lines twisting into feet long spirals, others were sharp and straight, a cacophony of corners and rectangles.
The screen would flicker on a message being shown in to arrive in his digital box. Dull eyes would gaze at it, all at once he knew that things would begin moving again. The riot of thought growing louder and louder as the message was read. Pieces were moving, he could see the plan. Everything was turning, forces were pulling harshly on each other. He could see the outside influence forcing the binary forces together.
They wished something Ein abhorred.
In the message he saw the power vacuum, the hate to be created, the fight that was brewing, the chaos to ensue.
Suddenly something would fight through the din. A thin feeble voice, but sharp enough to be heard and understood.
Tyler was a friend.
The thought nagged persistantly, and all too suddenly the room seemed a little too dim. Things were being moved in harsh ways, help was required and it had been so long since he had heard of anyone else willing to do anything but exist and conflict.
Tyler was the last, and he was being moved so his influence would be stamped out. Vince would have to be alerted, though no instructions to be given. The man would find his own way easily enough.
Dirk would have to be turned, if the scorched mind was salvageable. If nothing else, threat of losing all power and control would have to be enough. The man lusted after such things to such a degree he specialized in pain and conflict.
Genaht, the Sewn. The stitches were loose, the threads brittle and exposed.
Ein would have them closed.
The screen would flicker on a message being shown in to arrive in his digital box. Dull eyes would gaze at it, all at once he knew that things would begin moving again. The riot of thought growing louder and louder as the message was read. Pieces were moving, he could see the plan. Everything was turning, forces were pulling harshly on each other. He could see the outside influence forcing the binary forces together.
They wished something Ein abhorred.
In the message he saw the power vacuum, the hate to be created, the fight that was brewing, the chaos to ensue.
Suddenly something would fight through the din. A thin feeble voice, but sharp enough to be heard and understood.
Tyler was a friend.
The thought nagged persistantly, and all too suddenly the room seemed a little too dim. Things were being moved in harsh ways, help was required and it had been so long since he had heard of anyone else willing to do anything but exist and conflict.
Tyler was the last, and he was being moved so his influence would be stamped out. Vince would have to be alerted, though no instructions to be given. The man would find his own way easily enough.
Dirk would have to be turned, if the scorched mind was salvageable. If nothing else, threat of losing all power and control would have to be enough. The man lusted after such things to such a degree he specialized in pain and conflict.
Genaht, the Sewn. The stitches were loose, the threads brittle and exposed.
Ein would have them closed.
