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☨ Fever Dream ☨ - A Journey Within the Sigiled


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Fever Dream

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There is a head on a pole behind me - there is a head on a pole behind me. There is a fire that hangs, a fire inverted. 

 

Hang !

 

Hang ! 

 

Inverse flame - show me the heights of ambition, show me man upside-down. Reveal me not the inequities of the world but consume them. Let all be one. Let all cries, let all moans, let all weeping, singing, laughing; let them be consumed into one. If not all can be given Will, let there be none at all !

 

Let it be so that all know, that a frown is the same as a smile. 

 

I weep to you, heavens, I weep that all things are not one. Oh World, I stare at Life and I cannot but fall in love and spite it all at once. What is this gift we are given, amongst this place, amongst rock and flesh, dirt and sky ? Will has made this earth a place of laughter and one of weeping. And it could not be more hideous. It could not be more beautiful. 

 

And so I say unto you; let all things be confounded.

 

I am a man with no head, nailed to a chestnut chair. 

 

And there is a head on a pole behind me. There is a fire that hangs, a fire inverted.

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Boots upon cobble, boots upon stairs, boots upon dirt, to boots within a chapel so quiet that boots rang forth like the knell to wicked sacrament. Boots of a beast, plagued by his very person, brought forth the wretch before the divine who stood in the husk of a man. Words, so hushed, were uttered between the two following prayer and repentance, or perhaps it was reflection dwelling within the accursed minds. Accursed as they could begin to see, to understand, yet hungered for more. There was that hunger which lurked in the far corners of the room, perhaps two different natures of hunger, shared between one who understood and the other whose boots sought to understand. Yet, wicked sacrament of one cloaked monastic partook as two digits met the temple of the man who wore tarnished boots in holiest of places. Touch, so gentle it could cause tears to fall like dewfall in a symphony of amazement as all turned dark for the GOD fearing man. Service to Church and service to Man was the duty of the stray as reality distorted within his mind. Hindsight not, yet sight anew through tired eyes of another to reveal a tree, rooted within nothing with bodies that clung and hung to its gnarled branches whilst inferno blazed overhead, yet overhead was it not as it smoldered upside down in this Fever Dream.

 

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Yielded to darkness once more did the esoteric depictions so cast within the venture of the mind. Delving deeper into space unknown that showed man dancing beautifully without visage upon a backsplash of Pure nothingness. Pure white was the man, skin glistening over where features should have laid and so did he dance, flames burning, casting trails of smog through the blank space. The place between places, so comforting, the wretch who sought felt lost as the grace of the Faceless painted true through movement so blessed his sight. Climbing up and up invisible stairs did the Faceless as he toiled away at his flawless waltz, performing for none but those who would care to see. Alone was he, or was it alone for the other of whom witnessed such beautiful display. The feeling of tears streaming down skin from the O U T S I D E, left husk trembling within the touch of the monk. Alas, a sigil made form above in the place between places, one familiar to the S I G I L E D.

 

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Twisted, gnarled, wrought upon itself did the sigil as it bore itself into reality before the gaze of the venturer. Contorting and shifting always into a familiar yet completely unrecognizable signatory above the display of the dancer. Over and over, pushing into the mind and reality of Rafael, cold and comfort. Upon the tolling of the knell within conscience, fingers so blessed removed themselves forth from the sweat covered forehead of the man. Understanding began, yet stood to be understood for it was mission, to find GOD in all places. To seek him in every corner of reality, for the Armiger of GOD knew this to now be true and contrite in mission. Loss for understanding was the man not, for he had seen the other side. The other venture from which this world that remained stood beside. Now, the Fever Dream was over and a new dream festered within his soul. The veil was lifted. The sins of man, revealed.

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This Information Is Only Available To The Varg Community And Is Not To Be Used In Any Roleplay Capacity Outside Of The Aforementioned Group.

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