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The Men Who Clean?


[ ! ] The excerpt of a one-sided conversation, addressed to nobody. How did YOU stumble onto it? How are you… how…

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mXyamTEFa6M

 

Just take it as it may. Savor it, smell it, taste it, feel it. Feel it, yes? With your white, dead hands, and give them color, for once. You do have hands, yes? Both of them? Good. Though you can’t see them, not yet. You don’t have the right eyes. I’ll guide you through it, the corrosive city of thirst. It is an experience, as we all live it.

 

United, as first did all our predecessors, and those predecessors before them, we came into thought in this world to succumb into saccaharine sublimé schematic structures - in layman's terms, their memories. After all, great minds… hey! Stop it. Ah, I know what’s wrong. You don’t feel comfortable. That’s fine. Some advice is due; dress only in Blue. We enlightened clad only red and black, you know. Yeah, green too. Oh, how quickly you learn.

 

No, no. No. Blue is the purest color. For “Blue” does not have “Sundays”, and it rids us of fear. I don’t feel fear when I dress in Blue. Giving it some thought, I don’t ever dress in Blue. Maybe that’s why I’m always afraid. You do have a body, right? Good. Oh, come on. Laugh a little, will you? Crying makes everything so cold. Colder than forgetting, that’s for sure. Forgetting how to see. Forgetting how you were sold. Out with you now! No, come back! Just another word:

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EL5VFfAPr8k

 

Kid, look at me. You know you’re not here for nothing. No, you have a purpose. So do I. I’ve never seen you sing, you know? I don’t understand why. You have a voice, a beautiful one, at that. You have the words, correct? Don’t let them take that from you. Let them fall. Precipitate your thoughts true like once did the Bloodrain. I’ll tell you about it later, after the work is done. Oh, it will take some time, perhaps more than you’ve anticipated.

 

Eons? Bah, you over exaggerate. Well, perhaps, it depends on how well we do it. Everywhere, everything, yes. We are keeping no land unexamined, uncleaned, unhealthy. Yes, it is a great task. Let me lay it down for you. First come the trials… actually, first comes the cleaning. No… ah, nevermind. They happen simultaneously. After it, all should be cured. The Rot of Bloodmaris threatens our very existence, you know. Damn thing won’t get off my foot. Perhaps it would leave if- ah, no, too cliche, too. Oh! Delicious, it has left. Wonderful. Now where was I?

 

Right. You’re getting a good eye for things. That is good. Good eyes lead to Right Eyes, abstaining from white lies and nighttime cries, this absolution of the new and eternal form a natural prerequisite towards opening your eyes. No one can awaken without first falling asleep, after all. Some people - namely a one-eyed blondie suffering from the rot - overheard, and published, and threatened our integrity. Plague doctors… little of such are we, right? We clean, we prepare. What a big city, hm? And you, here, with me, all alone? At least part of that is partially true. I, for one, am alone, yes. I am not here, not yet. Soon.

Something burns, it crackles in the light of the fire. The Lord is flayed, they do not know he has chosen us, us to be the bearers of his creed. We walk so they may know, we warn them so they may run, whether or not they understand is not my worry. Come now, my friend, and explore the wonders of their minds. Poke and prod, peer into every crevice and crack that dots their infested psyche.  And when the time comes, when the city shivers with rot and the stains of blood, we will cleanse their decaying brains of the horrors. Wait patiently; I am coming- for you.

 

[ ! ] It feels as if someone whispers into the ear. Three Are Peas, it sounds like. Is this corrosive? A magical item? No, it must be inside your head. Perhaps they are already cleaning out there. 

Soon here. Soon where?
It doesn’t matter, not anymore.


 

Edited by Nescaffier
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Perhaps, if one were to walk two blocks down another street, they would see a man- draped fully in cloth - staring at a wall, nodding intently, only interrupted by the occasional cry or murmured apology.

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In the darkness of a gutter a figure lies upon his back, water streaming over his form as he mumbled incoherent babblings about what he saw in the rain. 

"Clean, clean. I must get clean."

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A RAT was busy bathing in a puddle of mud finely given by the rains above. He stopped for but a moment, dropping to the mud a Bucket. "I must collect the rain." he silently uttered to himself, gaze slowly turning to the beautiful one-of-a-kind mouseman sized Bucket. "The man in the puddle commands it."

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Kazimir Jumbo nods in agreement.

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3 hours ago, Wet_Roaches said:

A RAT was busy bathing in a puddle of mud finely given by the rains above. He stopped for but a moment, dropping to the mud a Bucket. "I must collect the rain." he silently uttered to himself, gaze slowly turning to the beautiful one-of-a-kind mouseman sized Bucket. "The man in the puddle commands it."

Syndryl thinks about this

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Bloodmaris..

 

Remon sweeps away into the green pasture, pondering upon this overheard conversation. (Totally legit.)

 

It all seems to tie into blood. I cannot escape the feeling that something quite disastrous is approaching. The world will be remade in blood, as it is said in the Mythos of the Svarlings, of these.. Plague doctors that Luthriel sent that missive out on. I must investigate.

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