ORIGIN

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Madhukar. Huh?

Madhukar, I'm sated. Wh-- huh?

Madhukar, I'm sated. You asked before. Before now. And now it's now and you're here and I'm telling you that I'm sated. I don't--

Madhukar. Wake up. I--

The scintillating fracture of a-- chrysoberyl cage.

A paw broke through, then a head bursted forth. Slick and slimy, as if newly born. Far from it though. Far from it.

She escaped, but only in a physical sense. And even as she left, each effort to move was met with a siege of backlash. Stunted by regret, like she'd never meant to burst from the seed. Life doesn't usually get a choice in these matters however.

I thought you were-- I am. You can't hide forever. Please-- You can't hide forever. Blink, breathe. Take. You have to take it, Madhukar, you have to be alive. Open your mind-- do it now. Don't argue. Don't hide. Why... But it was too late. A blink, a shake of her head, all against her will, draining her might, she was made to breathe and with the breath she had to draw came a million, billion thoughts. She didn't want to have anymore thoughts, but they wanted to have her. Eat her alive like a wild pack of... dogs.

'What is that smel-- where-- WHY DID YOU-- WHAT HAVE YOU-- who-- WHAT DID YOU THINK-- regrow regrow regrow-- Ḩ̶̢̣̥̝̩̳̻̳̞͆̍͒ͅA̸̡̤͍̜̖͖̞̹̺͕̪͆̔̀̀͐͒͒̐́̓́́̅͠V̶͕̮̳̋̌͐̾͝É̴̢̢̜̖̖̩͚̟̰̠̳͓͎͓̆̽͌͋͝ͅ ̸̨͈̹͚͇͚̜͇̭̦̖͑̎̓̊̄̈́́̀͜Y̴̧͈̟̥̗͎̰͙͊͛̇̽̓̆͂̀̈́̈́͑̊̆͘ͅO̶̫͓̩̠̪͚̗̞̙͔͊͒U̷̡̨͓̝̫͓̙͕̖͍͊̃͑̇̇͋͐͐͂̊̽̕͝͝ ̷̡̢̠͉̣̰͎͎̣̄̓͜D̵̢̗͇̮̭̪͔͕̯̐̍̋͌̇̏̀̍͛́͘Ȯ̶̧͎́̽̎͛͌̄͂̉Ñ̴͓̱̗̟̳̖̥͓̹̚͜E̷̢̦͕͕̘̾́ͅ-̴̡̢̩̤̠̯͇̰̜̯̖̼̒̍̐̎̎̎͑̕͝͠-̶̨̨̘̤͍͔̱̝̹̓͗͜ ̷̡̺̻̫̤̼͖̖̭͔̬͗̿́͛͠͝s̵̡̧̺̲̟͔͖̗̹̦̩͇̞̙̈́̂̇̿̆͊̚͝͠ͅö̶̧͍̲͓̼̣̮̼̩̯̜́̉̓̎̏m̸̢̧̨̬͚̱̝̳̣͉̮̭͙͖͖̒̆̇̓͑͗̿̊̓̃͘͝ĕ̴͖͐͗̊̃̔͒͌̂̕͝t̸̛̲̩̜̪̏̓͑̀͐̀̓̒͋͐̕͝͝͝ḩ̷̤̰͉̈́͗̅̔̀̓͜ì̴̛̱̱͚̩̩̀̾̊̎̈́̿̉̊̉̒̔̚͝n̴̼͔̗̩̝̬͓̾̉͑͛̈́̚͘͝ģ̸̫͙̩̲̱̖̱̰͇̈́́̍͋͒͌̽̇̔̉̈̉̽ͅ ̵̡͍̘͓͓̫̣͇̫̲̣̞̋͒̈̇̅̋͝n̸̢̼̘̘͍͈̞͓̰͔̩̈́͗͆͐ė̵̢͕͔͈͎̗̹̹̟̻̠̑͋̑͂é̶͙̦͈̹̣͕̩̱̼̯̌d̶̗̫̪̟̻̮̼͇̻̞̋̃̽̃́̀͜͝s̶̡̧̛͕̩͎̭͍͎͒̌͐̐͒̊̐̓̌ ̶̛̝̮̮̠̗̙̓͌̊̈́͂̒̋̓̍̓̈́͌͑͗t̶͇͓̝̘̳̟͙̰̖̣̊̌̓̈́̎̒̈́̊̉͗̎̅̈́͜͜͠ṍ̶̳́̈́̃̒̔͗̇̆-̵̢̮̱̦̜̥̈̊̎̈̾͑̊̋͆̇̐͆̆̇͝-̷͕͖̯̮͔̻̙̫̲͖͔̒͐͊̽̽̇̾͐́̔̒͠ ̵̩̠͔̙̰͚̳̫̬͎̖͌́͌͜ͅs̵̲̬͙̣̪̠̖̹̅̽̈́͗̈́̋͘͜͝ỏ̷̡̙̦͒̇͘m̸̟̻̤̗̳̺̜͈̲̗̹̹̊̏͌̏̿̈́̉̒̒̈͠e̶̢̻͚͉̯̬̟̲͍̝̻̭̹̞̹̿̇́̆̄̿̀̃͝t̷̤̝́̍̔̀͒̑͂͆̍ḫ̷̨̢̲͉̤͔͇̫̳͒̂̋͗̉͂̚i̷̢̘͓͔̺̰̋̃̄͜ņ̴̟̗̘̬̞͚̞̦͎͔̎͆͆͐͆͋̄̔̆̀͘g̸̡̳̾͆͛́͗͜ͅ ̸͕͍̝͇̞̬̀̉̿͋̾͝i̷̡̭̹̱͊̍ş̴̻͙͈̟͈̍̐̆̑̾̊̈͒̚̚͘͝ ̴̡̦̗̱̦̝̖̽̓͝Ḏ̵̈́I̸̢̼͓̮̖̲̲̠͓̩̣̩͇͉̊̈̑̎̓̎ͅF̸̡̛̠͍̣͕̀͊͐̉̌͋͒͆͊̑͋̆F̸̛̙̠͚͇͍̗̙͇͕̰̒͐̄̓̇͝ͅE̸̟̒͊̆̌́R̴̡̢̬̞͈̪͂̊̽͋̀̔̚ͅĔ̶̡̳̖̳̝̰̫̝̍͌̿̐̎̂̈́̉̒̈͗̐̀N̴̢̤̞͙͍̭͙̲̱̼̼̠̦̞̬͐̾̍̊̀͝T̵̞̰̞̫͓̮͓͖͓͚̍̇̍͊̓͂͊̀̕-̷̧̡̩̻̦̙̰̲̣̻̱̖̙̻̀́̅͌͒̊̋̉̚̚͝͝-̶̢̜̰͕̤̬̙̉̈́̿̈́̔̈́̓̓͌̚ ̵̻̰͉̘̬̮̤̜̪͇̉̀͂͝a̷̢̛̲̥͔̽͋͊͘r̴̡͔̰̰̰͙̹͎͕͇̞͕̳̞̺̓̌̈́͆̿e̷̡̛͕͙̜̼̗̻̦̲͌̉́͆͐̈́̑́̈́́̏͘ ̷̛̻̙̳̿͋̂͛͊̍͒͗̄̾̅͘͝͝w̴̲̻͔̺͈̳̗͖̲̤̣̏́̈́͐̄̏͂͗̒͋̀͝͝͠e̸̢̹͚͇͉͙̗͍͔͓̤̯͓̜͋̆̍͐̀͒̀́̀̊͝ͅ-̴̨̢̬̰͖̤̯̳͎͚̣̈́̀̍̾̓̉͋̀̅̎͌͠-̸͔̼̺͕̟̦̜̙͚̹͍̎̌͑́̍̈́̆̈͛͌̈́͐͝͝ ̵̛̼̹̀̏͝L̴̡̛̲̜̘͍͕͓̭̰̣̙̊̋̍́̀͐̔͑̕͝ͅI̵͉̅̊̽̍̓̄͒̑̿̚̚S̷͔̳͉̲̪̯̱̎̔̀̈́̀̅Ţ̶̛͉͚͚̘̓͗̂̎͆̄̔͐͛̆͗͗̈́̉E̵͕͌̆́̌͑͋̍̾̔͋̚͘̕͝͝N̸͙͓̘̙͂̂̏̌-̶̛̰̺̬̅̃͐̅̀̓͌͘͜͝-̵͚͍̫͈̦̟̩͓̯͖̱̘͕̉͗̄͐̄͌̕͝ ̷̛̘̜͕̂̑͑ͅ)̶̳̜͍͓̙̮̥̹̜͒͑̈́͗̽̉̉͛̈̈́̕͠͝͝(̷͎͚̳̹̝̝̼͕̹̯̏̌̾̔͒͛͌̏́̄̐͑̿̄͊͜%̸̱͓̥̜͝*̵̨̮̫͍͚̲̣͓̦͋̀͆̈́̑̚͠͝)̸̛̳̻̲̥̤̍̀̑͆̾̌̃́̍̀̏̀̊̚$̴͓̝́̊͂̈́̀̆͊̉̽́̌̄̇̚*̶̧̧̯͚̩̟̥̼͕̪̯̦̗͍͂̆̓̉̃̍́̕%̴͚̭͈̖͈͕̣̳̓̃̇̋̂͛̕̕͠)̴̨͉͓̠͍̮͕̑̏ͅ)̵̢̡̬͕͔̼̰̬̜̺̺̈͠(̷̮̺̦̹̜̈́̎̏͐͊̂̕*̵̡̣͔̼͚͈̮̩̭̱̮̽̊̑̀̊͂͆̈́̈́͝ͅ%̴̜̰̯̩̘̗͉̘͒͆̊̄͌̽̿̊͐͛̑͝͠#̸̨̟͕̣̭͍̝͓͍̱̘̀̾̍̍̓̂́́͋̀̎̒̚͜(̴̡̡̛̛̫̪̫̿̀̈̀)̷̢̨͕̹͙̻͉̥̝̥̻̞͕̘̦͋̌͋̐̒̒̀̑̉́̑̆̀͠͝%̸͍͕͇̦̄̽͆̈́̓͋̽̕(̵̧̨͍͚̬̩̤̞͚̜̟̱̲̩́͊̎͂̀́͝)̷̟̗̥̻̞͇̮̥͊̈*̷̛͔̝̱͚͕͍͈͓̗̘͈̀́̃͂̑̓̏͋̏̐͑ͅ%̶̫̬̀̿̍̏̕(̸̛̝̼͕̀̊̓̌̆̏̾͑̔̎̓͒̄͠)̵̱̝̘̫̥̭͈̩͈̦̖̫̉̌̈́̾͆͊̄̑̓͐̈̾*̸̜͍̳̭͌̂͊͠%̸̠̜̤̝̒)̶̙̖̲͈͎̰̺̺̑̕$̵̧͕͚̗̬̯͔̭̬̫͕̝͔̾̄̏͌̈́̈́͛̾͂̀̄̇͑̅͝*̵̡͇̺̹̠̬͔̞̻̞͙̬̈́̿̈́͆̎̒̇́̿%̶̨͈͎͙̖͎̣̬̦͚̤̳̞̀̂͛̾̅͛͒͆͒͌̂)̵̨̛̠̩͇̲̩̂͑̿̈́̿͗̈́̋̈͌̋(̴͎͍̙̯͔̝͍̞͍͔̙̼̞̈́͝@̸͔͕̪̟̐*̴̡͙͎̼̖̺͖͋͜͝)̸̙̣̖͖̙͎̬̮̝͚̪͔̪̣̽͗͜È̸̢͔͈̱̮͇͙̤͓͚́͗̏U̶̢͗͐̾̑̃̈́̿̒̓̚͘͜W̶͚͓̩̗̼͚̞̩̻̾̊͆̓̀̕(̵̡̠̳̼͇̠̯͖̯̃͂̅̉̑͛̀͝T̵̫͉̥̖̍͋͐͌̈́͒̕̕̕͠U̸͙̘̥͎̥̟̼̳̦̇̂͌̈́́͗̄̊̀͛͜͠)̷̧͚̙̬͉͈̬̿́̿̑͘͝͠(̶̡̧̢̖̲͓̖͍̹̭̳̹̤͇̪̂̍͋͒̉̈̈́̓́̆̀͠W̴̼͙͕̘͈͛̓̀͒̐U̴̺̭̼̳͍̠̮̫̹͓͚͇̳͑̉T̶̙̾̓̒́̊͋͌͝(̶̖̼͌͊͠)̴͈̬̙͚̝͓̿̚Ẅ̸̮͚̝̥́͑͝Ụ̵̧̨̼̘͔͌̓̑̄͒̅̔̕͠͝T̴͔̲̻͕̩̹̫͍̥̮̹̮̑͒̓́͛͂̀̿̊͆̆̀́̈́͊)̴̢̨̙̳̺̝̳̲̟̈͊͘ͅ(̶͚͈̭̲̰͕̼͙̠͔̙͚̗̈́͐̊̑̔̿̉̾̇̎̌̈́̚͘͝W̴̭̞̳̮̗̠̏̋̉̉͘Ų̷̙͉̦̘̼̯̣͈͖̫̯̭͈̀͑̊̄́̊̀͌̕͝͝͝)̵̖͖̖̟͖̤̲̲̙̍̾͌͌̈́(̴̭̝̋̀̉̌̾̀̈́̎͑́͋̂̾̚U̵̮̟͕̅̊̒́̇̒̈́̓̽̚̚W̶̤̥̗̻̱͋͗̎̿̊̆̏̈́̌͌$̸̨̙͚̼̬̯̘̖͙͑̔)̴̢̛͚̘̻̮̊͌͐̊̈́͑̑͘Ṭ̸͉̟̲͇͍̮̥̜̣̰̜̽̀͐̈́̏͒̍͛͜͝U̴̹̩͉̠̔͛̏W̴̮̬̩̯͕̍)̸̨̛̗̺͉͐́̇̾͐̓̓͋͒̓ͅ(̸̧̛͕̟̟̳̏̾̈́̅̾̉͗́̌̃̕͜͝$̶̰̓̇̔̂́̂̃͌͗̌̈͌̕Ṱ̷̢̛̘̦̾̐̌̄̍̒̏́̚̕͝U̸̢̹̱̭͔̻̞͕̪̅̽͗̚ͅ)̸̢̛̳̜̝̯͙W̷̤̥͔͖̯̲͇̻̝̱̒̉͆̽͊͐̌̇̎̈́́͛͝͠U̵͈̰̯̹̪̾̃͆̑̀̃̑͋̀͠T̶͙̼̠͚͕͉̤͗̓̅)̶͓̱̫̪͔̜̰̙͇̱̼̺̩͑͒͌́̐͝(̷̡̢̼̠̳̳̺̥̦̤̈̀͐͝E̷̺͚̼͎̬̪͕̩̤̥̺͇̠͗́̆͜W̶̢̤͓͖͉̩̝̿̅͌̈́̃̀͋̒́̽̾̇͝U̴͈̼̦̲͔̯͔̤̎̀̎̒͌̄̃ͅͅT̸̮̱̲͉̘͔̞̼̤̺͚͙̹͈̣̋̐)̴̧̨̖͙̝͇͖͖̟̪̝̗̻̲̬͆̾̂̍̌̀̍̂̋̅̈́̏͌͐͝Ẅ̶͙͚͕̜̫̣̹̝́̈́̈́͗̓̿̑͜Ư̵̛̦̭̭̣̝̗͎͙͎̘̲̗̓̄̓͒̽̆̆̽̒͝)̴́͂̈́̐̀͗̃̅͊̑͠͝ͅW̴̠̙͎̊̋́̎̒̐̈́̀̾͛͒̎͝U̴̱͓͓̞͉͔͉̝̝̯̥̼͉͌̌̿̌̊͐̈͑͜Ț̶̨̨̬͕̱̺͔̳̝͕͍͔̋̊̈͌̀͋̐̃̌̀̈́̕͜͝)̷̧̛̖̫̠͕̜̥̬̻̫̖͉̈̃̍͛͆̓͛̇͒͘͘ͅ(̸̛̛͔̘̥̖͔͕͙̹̫̟͉̟̅̄͂̉̔̊̒̓͋̽̇͝Ụ̸͖́̎͋́͒̂̓)̶̧̛͈͎̝̤́̆̋̑̃͂͋͜ '

The rest of her was hauled out, her body sat leaning back against the remnants of her third chrysalis as the countless members of the armada of thought all screaming at her from the inside, produced a low hum in her. Was that even a noise? Was she making that up, was it possible for thoughts to be heard? She wondered, briefly, if the goop she'd slithered out of could drown out a noise, could drown out lungs--

And then suddenly, it all ended. The jury and the chorus and the riot in her brain halted with such abruptness she might've stumbled if she'd been standing. Every voice seemed to conclude. The result:

'SOMETHING HAS TO CHANGE, MADHUKAR. YOU HAVE TO CHANGE.'

A million, billion voices, puncturing her soul. A million, billion cuts that brought her to ruin. And her only response...

'How? I'm lost.'

There was no answer. Not yet. She looked around, eyes piercing every object with a maddening fervor as she seemed to be grasping at straws for an answer somewhere. Something in the ground-- the ground looked wrong. Something in the world-- the world looking wrong. Something in her body-- YOUR BODY LOOKS WRONG.

What... what had happened?

Think "Speak"

@Doug

Being away from 'home' from so long had certainly taken it's toll. Not homesickness, but a furious, all-consuming chaotic rage. The need to tear apart, to enact entropy. Still, he refused to leave her alone. But..

At some point, it had become less about protecting her, and more about d̴e̸s̴t̷r̸o̷y̴i̸n̴g̴ anything that dare come near.

It was S̶͇͒ḫ̷̊a̸͋͜ṱ̷̎t̶̻̓e̵̜͘r̵̖̍ȇ̴̘d̷͕̆ ̵̜͗s̵͈͆ḳ̸̚i̶̿ͅé̵̱s̵̛̤,̸̳̚ ̷̱̉s̸̖̅c̴̞̀o̶͎̓r̶̪̋ĉ̸̜h̴̥̅e̴̼͝d̷̥̈́ ̴̺̋e̶̢̚ä̶͖́r̷͎̾t̴̪͠h̴͇͝ hard to a̵̖̽͗l̸̥̂̒i̷̥̚e̷̤̓n̴̩͒͠ŝ̶̡̕ ̷̪̹̀̎w̷͈̻͆̈́á̴̩͇̊r̶̜̉ŗ̶͚̒̚i̷̝̼̓͝n̸̢͇̊ǵ̷̤ ̷̺̋͜m̴̨͕̈́o̸̙̓͑n̵̺̓͜ś̷͍̆t̷̟̒̈ḙ̶̏͝r̵̢̊̿s̷̗͝ͅ ̵̣̉f̷̝͈̃i̸̼͐̚g̸͔̔ḩ̸́t̸̯̮̊͊i̶͖͐n̸̤͝g̸͓͈̀̏ focus on f̷͉̿i̴̜̱͠g̷̢̹̍̋h̸͚̋̒t̶̰̹́ ̷̬̭͒̌w̶̜̐̓i̴̞̲̕t̸͔͒h̷̨͌́ ̴̢̇t̶̺́h̵̤̯̃̕e̸̡͔̒m̵̢͕̀̂ ̷̛͓͛ͅf̵̹̝̚ị̴̆̒g̵̫̿h̶͇̊̀t̵͍̑ ̴̦͛̏â̴̲͇̔g̴̳̋a̸͖͋̍ị̸̊͘n̶̜̯̏s̵̜̞̾ṱ̷̙͗́ ̴̨͍̓̅t̶̖̖͗ḩ̶̩̾͘ȩ̷͕̉̊m̶͖̜̋̏ anything for D̸͎̪̾̏ẽ̶̠͋s̶̛͙̠t̴̰̿r̵̻̋̕o̴̬͊̽y̷̗͆͠ ̸̛̤̩͠r̸̢̛̰̂a̷̳͂v̷͈͉̋͛a̴̲̹̿ǵ̶̰̱e̵̳͗̃͜ ̵͇̖̇͠ḍ̵͂e̴͖̐m̴̙͙̒̈́o̵̳̓͝l̸̡̈́͆ǐ̵̮͆s̵̥̀h̵̻̰̃̇ ̶͇̒r̴̘͍͠u̵̢̲͒̊ḯ̶̞͛ń̶̕͜ ̵̡͕̌D̷̞͍̽͆E̷͎͒S̷̜̀T̴̰̆R̴͔̝͝Ơ̸̖͠Y̶͇̩̾ very long. If he wasn't hunting, or drinking, he was lost in a chaotic vision, or equally chaotic but somewhat more aware thought. It was c̴̫̉o̶͍͊n̵̘͘s̴͔̿u̴͇͂m̶̮̓i̶̧̎n̶͖͋g̵͔͑ him.

Almost literally.

The crack of shattering gemstone caught his attention immediately, even through the haze of chaotic thoughts and visions.

But... Something was wrong. Something had changed. She'd been twisted, mutated into a different, unfamiliar form. Something had changed. w̴h̸a̶t̸ ̵h̵͕͑á̶̩d̷̫͘ ̸̬̉c̴͎̆h̶͓͚̀̚ä̸̩̜n̷͍̒g̶̨̭͋ė̷͙̤́d̶̟̓̃ ̵̢̎͘w̸̝͙̺̎H̷̪̅ ̴͕͠A̷̛̳̲̿T̵̲͉̾ͅ ̶̢̞͎̈́͋̐h̷̛͍̹͈̱͕́̐ą̴̢̻͚͆̎͂̌͑Ḑ̷̨̓͜ͅ ̸̛̛̯͚͑̓͜c̴̡̦͕̦̖̫̏͋̄͘h̴̳͑̅̂̚Ą̷̘̩̺̞̺̌̐͑̇̔͠N̶̻̺͔̊̓̅g̸̹͚͂̑͌͒é̷̢̺̻̝͝d̵̢̘͖̾̍͝ ̸̡̙̼̍́̀͠.

For a brief moment, he wondered if he'd simply forgotten what she'd looked like. But no- that was impossible. right̷?̶͕͒

ẁ̷̡͓̥͇̩̓͠h̸͚̝̳̆͝ă̸̛̺͊͋t̸̖̰̃̌ĥ̶̯̎à̶̰̳p̵͉̈̽̈́͜p̶̼͚̣͊ĕ̷̼͇͉͌̕n̴̠̾͆͌́̇e̸͓̦͈̿d̴̹̺̖͚͇́̂̑̀ẅ̴͙̪̱͇͎̿h̴̡̬̉̒͗ạ̴̲͉͊̀̀̃t̷̢̲̱͓̂̆̉c̸̡̻̻͉̈́̊̊̀̍h̴̳̼͙́̉͋à̸̗̓͘ǹ̸̮̫g̸̞̫͙̝̳͋̕ẻ̵ͅd̵̨̦̹͌̑w̴̬͖̰̓h̶̯̰͛͊̅̾̀a̴̤̱̓̋t̵̝̣̝̾̏̑̓͝d̸̘̦̀i̸̧͓̹͉̐d̵̯̼̥̭̆͒̏̾͋t̵̨͐̏͝h̵̢͓̝̰̗̀i̶͎͙̳̍͠s̸̖̝̣̟͓͐͑̎̕w̸̦͍͉̌͒͗̄̚ḣ̸̬̓o̸̡̪̓̔̅̎̿d̴͙͘í̵̲̞͐d̴̖͇̥̜̈́̍͜t̸̪̹̳̼̒̌͂͝h̸̡̤̫͚̗̄̎͑̈́i̸͇̼͗s̶̛̗̈́̿̐̕w̴̨͔̺̅͗͒

Oily black dripped from his mouth like drool, from his eyes like tears. Or maybe there were actual tears, too? It was impossible to tell- for any observers and for Doug himself.

̸̶̡̧̲̠̝͔̥̇̈́̚h̶̦̟̊̈́a̴̛͚̫̼̣͓̔̂ṱ̸̯͎̈̋͆́c̶͕̳͚̥̮̾h̶̨́̂̀̚͠â̸͎͍̼̙̮̾̐n̴̨̧͈͈̆̈́̊g̸̤̔̒́ȇ̵̼͊͆͂̚d̷̘̅I̷̻̟̲͔͒́ͅ'̸̩̮̞̫̅̈́͊́̕ͅl̴̟̂̑l̶͉̉ḑ̸̫̝̤̐͌͐̇e̴̡̠̟͊͛́̏̌s̷̮̭̪̖̓̅̌͜ṱ̵͈̰̦͒͊̎̉r̶̺̊̾͗̌͘͜ó̶̙̈́̒̄͜͝y̴̭̾͗ṯ̴̿h̸̡̠̠̍̈́e̵̝̭̽̓m̴̤̿͂̀i̴͔̋̀͐͠'̶̘̀l̸̢̠̿̍̆͝͝l̸̹͉̈́̋̾̌k̵̥̤̈́̆͑̈́͜͠i̸̠͋̒̒l̴̤̈ͅl̵͎̈̾͜t̴̜̮̭̆͌ḩ̸̡̯̰̃̇̄ͅě̷̡͚̯m̷̥̣̅͑̅T̶͉̀̐͒H̶̤̣̳̽̅͝Ë̶̘͚̅̿̕ͅY̶̨̡̩̣̫̒͌́̈͝K̷̭̹̯͛ͅI̶̻͕̺̱̮̊̋Ļ̷̤̳̤̓̊̇̀L̸̛̲̺̉̀E̸͉̪̪̞͙͛͌̑̅̕Ḑ̶̧̣̠̈́̿͋͛͗

It was hard to focus on Mauhukar through the chaotic warring in his peripheries, encroaching more and more into his vision.

Y̵̮̬̳͖̌̇̑́̀ͅO̶͍̰̝͒̚Ü̶̯ȉ̶̻̯̟͊͊͠'̴̳̎͊l̵̡͓̻͍̥̓͆̄͐l̶̦̤͇̮͔͐ḵ̷͉͐̊̀̕͠ỉ̷̡͖̯̽͠l̸̨̳̝̰̻̕l̶͖̥̞̪̓͐͌͘t̸̥͙̤́̔́̿̅h̴̦̼͈̰͑̇̎̚ę̵̖̜͇̽͂̋͛m̵̛͇͊̚͠į̷̛͆̏̂̓'̴̮̻͛̅̽̃l̸̬̝̪͓̋̈́̆̑̑ͅļ̴̱͗̇͘͠ͅḋ̸̢̘͔ḙ̸͚̱͕̀̍s̵̫͎͊̃͂t̵̥̘͓͐̿̀r̵̝̅̉͗̒̌o̵͔͚̮̳͂y̵̻̠̹̠̽͒ͅt̵͖͌̆h̶̨͍̠̘͎̅͛̀͂̀ẹ̷̞̔̑̽̈́͆m̶̯̱̿̀͘i̴̛͎͓'̶̳̤̓̋ḻ̶̻̈́l̶̛̝̻̟̦̍̚d̶͎̓́́̕͝ê̴̥̓̄s̴͈̠͒̔ț̶̃r̶͈̱̙̞̽̃̈͂o̸͙̦̍̌͊̽̚͜y̶̥͈̿̂͂̏̋͜ͅy̵͔̏ó̴̢̬̘͙͔̆ú̷͙̲̖͋̔̍́n̷̖̓͋̊o̷͕̍͊̔̈́n̸̡̺͈̦͂̆̍̔͘o̵̻̘̅̚n̵̛̳͙̙̑͝o̶͇͚͚̞̓͆͛̕͘n̴̡͚͖̲͚̑̍́ŏ̵̲͚̰̺̥n̴̯̰̈́ó̴͖

It was hard to sort thoughts into words.

n̸̻͠o̸̥̮̽͐͂͆n̸͖̄͋ò̷̢̰̚i̸͙͊̕'̸̨̘͚̤͑͊͋̈́l̴̨̲̊̒͐ľ̶̢͔̙̝̗͐k̴̦̄̌̿̚ỉ̷͉̻̫͛̔͆͜l̵̹̲̳͑l̸̹͗̐͂ȩ̴̛͉̥̦͉͋v̸̜̲͔͊̅̈̀ȩ̴̩̹̗̝̿ṙ̴̨͇͓̮̐̆̎̚ẙ̷̻͕̬̇t̴̡̙̭̀̒̇h̶͚͙̪͇͂i̷͕̙͑̇̃n̸̤̾̋͒ģ̶̟̳̠͔̓͊͂̕n̶̲̖͖͈̂́͗̍o̵̧̤̽͐̋̈́ͅn̶̫̬̋̉̇ò̶͔̠͇̠̒̒́͝n̷̨̞͍͝o̷̡̗̣̓̕ẉ̵̱́͒ḣ̶̢̟̮̆̊̇͝a̵͇͓͗̉t̷̛̺͗͋ć̷̡̪̖͂̄̚h̷̫͚͈́͌̈́̇̕a̶̡͈͝n̶̪̞̼̮̓̓̕g̷̘͛̇ė̴̺͗͋̈́͆d̵̼̓̈́h̷̡͔̊̈́w̴͇̩̥̎͋ͅa̴̢̙̥̼̋͜t̷̨͕̱͎̆̋́͗͛ḧ̷̟͕̹́͒͜ą̶͍̻̺̘̂̎̍p̴̨͍͉͚̀p̴͔̼̩͓̅̉͜e̴̬̒̌̐͊ń̶̛͕̜͚͕͋̉͐ẻ̵̡̖̼̳̾d̴͙̱͑̓w̴̧̻̩͖͎̄̓͆͘h̷͖̞̚a̵͇̹͖̎t̷̥̩̱̓̾c̷̢̻̩̺̅̈̑͝h̷̤͖͈̔a̵̺̩̙̱͑̑͗n̶͖̜̰͠g̵̡͐̓̀̀̕é̷̲̙d̶̡̫̺̀̈́͑h̶̻̐w̷̡̥̞̎͐̓͘a̷̲̗̖͍͂̽t̸̡̫̽͊̌͜h̶̺̥̓a̶̡̢̟̗͋̓̿p̴̖͖̳̝̙̏p̸͍̗͕̲̎̿̐e̷̞̍̽n̶̞͐͐̊̎͝e̵̡̤͠͝͝ͅd̷̺̣͛̓̕w̶̛̹ḩ̸͖̻̦̜̒̓̎͑a̷̺̾͜ț̴̪͈̥͆͐͝ẁ̷̠̭̕h̶̞̳̹͔͍̃͌̈́̍a̴͇͌͗̌̎̕

"...What happened?"

@Madhukar

Golden fur. Then lightning. Then golden fur again. Streaked, like a sky. 'Hold steady, Madhukar.' What-- what-- who was this? Golden fur, streaked black BLACK OOZING WHAT-- 'HOLD.' Let the circuitry fire up, let the chords get reconnected, let the bugs and gnats be cleared from the air -- just for now, just so she could see what was wrong with--

"What happened?"

She almost spoke over it with her own inquiry: "W- Wiggly?"

'You never learned their name. Never even bothered to see if they had one.' And then it would have all cascaded from there, but something firm and protective held the reigns as if for dearest life. As if they didn't want to squander this moment a third or fourth time. As if she wasn't supposed to lose again-- at least, not here. You have to take it.

She couldn't answer. What had happened? Oh, if only she had the strength to vocalize, if only she had the willpower to say. Really, if only she-- 'Don't lie. You know.' She knew what had happened. Couldn't say it. Couldn't... no, she could. She could speak.

"Wha...t, what, what happene-d... happened... to you?" They were... smaller than Madhukar remembered. But more than that, SO much more than that, they looked terrible. "You... pain-- in pain? Hur-t? You hurt?" ~~Why did her jaws hurt so much?~~ Concern welled inside of her. She half-forced and half-allowed it to not be entirely for her own self. That concern must have broken her dam because it was pouring out of her eyes. Why did her eyes feel so weird -- why did theirs look so weird? And why did their face, everything, EVERYTHING feel so DIFFERENT?

'And why are you so calm?' Still lost. Even more so than before, now that she had seen them. That's the guess, at least. There's not much use in anger and lightning -- gold fur -- lightning in the middle of a fog or a haze. She would need a guiding light -- gold fur -- black streaks -- light to help her navigate. Maybe it was for the best, then, that at the moment she was... empty-pawed.

Think "Speak"

@Doug

'Wiggly?'

It took a moment to realize she was talking to him, and another moment to realize why she just didn't call him by name. They hadn't introduced themselves to each other- even after all this time? How could they possible have forgotten? How could HE possible have forgotten.

"Not Wiggly.." Speaking was hard, between what felt like a gigantic lump in his throat and the oily goop that actually was. "'m Doug.."

'Wha' happene-d... to you?' What? That wasn't an ans- 'You... pain? Hur-t? You hur-t?' Why did she care about hi- P̵a̵i̷n̵?̸ ̵H̶u̵ ̷r̴t̸?̵h̵ ̴u̶r̵t̸ ̸ḣ̶͙h̶͚̑u̸̥̓ ̷̹̉r̶̝̋t̶̖̀ ̵̝́p̴͓͠a̷͉͑ị̶̃ ̴̦̈́n̴̖͛ ̴̢̇d̵̺͔̒̉̿ ̶͉̄e̴̛͙͊s̶̛̬̣̃̉ ̴̢̔t̶̰̯̃ͅr̸̼̃̒͂ ̴͈̾̔̕o̵̞̝̝͠y̸͖̐ ̴̩̭̻͛̾͘ẗ̶͈̯́ ̷̯̪̮̆̉͊e̵̪͕̋́̿ä̶̝͎͉́͂ ̸̭͚͖̈́ṙ̵̨͖̒ ̸̝̽͑ḧ̴̫́̂ ̸͉͝u̸͓̘͉͆̀ ̸̭̝͊r̶͇̗̉ṫ̶͓͉̼̔͝p̸̥͉̏ ̷̺̿̒̀a̴̛̜̻͍̽̈́i̸̹̹̞͂̍̈́ ̸̡̟̇̀͊n̵̫̎͂ ̷̲͑͂N̶͉̪̲͊̓͘Ȏ̵̜̇͝ ̵͓͊N̸̩̋ ̷̬̾O̸̳̓N̵̰̔ ̶̲͘o̷̢͛ ̴̞́n̸̦̔Ô̶͚n̷ ̴o̸n̸ ̶o̷ ̵n̷o̸ ̸n̵ ̵o̸n̶ ̸o̵ ̴n̴o̶n̶o̴n̵o̷n̵o̷nononono stop focus please just-

"I'm.." What had happened? He hadn't been attacked. He hadn't been hurt. So what was wrong? Was anything wrong? Something was wrong, but what? "...Don't Know.."

He knew that this overwhelming, enthralling chaos wasn't normal, but he had no idea what could've caused it. He'd always experienced something like this, the visions, the whispers, the urges, but never this... MUCH.

Maybe this was normal.

Maybe he should just listen to the .̴̮͖̆̈́͛G̵̫͙͆ṟ̶͎́e̶͎̞̮̽͠a̸̰̪̣̕t̶͚̍̒͜ ̵͚͈̎͠m̷̥̈́͊ō̴͔n̴͉̻͍̔̉̈́s̴͈͖̏̏t̷̼̣̤͒̈́r̸̡̬̒̓ỏ̸̗̏ṳ̷̰̝͗͠s̶͔̟̐̌ ̸̰̱͊͑̀a̸̠̩͈͒̀͆l̸̹̳̍̐ǐ̴͇̥e̴̜̭̿n̸̦̣̆́s̴̢̻̐ͅ ̵̼̬̬̍́͌f̵̗̦͉̆̈́͒i̸̱̤͠ğ̴͎̳͍͛̇h̸̏̐̎ͅt̵̜̣̣̒̒̍i̶̟͐̅̇n̸̯̍̅̐g̶̖͉̻͌͆.̸̜͎̐̂W̵̺͚͓̥͛́r̸͉͕̫̈e̵̫̾̀̐c̸̳͇̉͆̾ḳ̴̗͝a̷̠̺̰̓̐͋g̴̜͆͘ē̶̛̗̗̎̈́ ̴̢͙̙̼̆ ̸̥͊̂̊Ḻ̸̱͆͂̅͜e̵̡̞͉͂v̸̯̹͖̄̎͝ė̵̟̌l̶̛̝̖͛͒ĭ̵̧̛̩n̷̨̟͙̆g̴̻̯͍͊̾ ̶̻͒͝b̸̻̿ū̴͈͂͋i̸̖̘̊l̶̫̍d̵͕̖͊͌ĭ̴̧͍̀̊ṋ̵̺̈́ğ̷̲̽s̸͇͝ ̶̛͖̆i̸̮̘̩͛ň̵̨̋̐t̷̜͓͍͆͋ö̴̖̟̞́̋̚ ̸̺̯̭̊r̵̲͓̩̐ṵ̶̤͒͋͂î̶͉͝n̶̨̬͐.̸̢̬̱̾̚ ̶̖̍̄H̵̢̪̗͈̎ͅǎ̶̝̱̝̟̆̕ͅv̴̼̔̐̃̋̕ŏ̷̡̟c̸̖͖̖̉̐͂ ̵̨̩͑̃̌̍͝ ̸̛͙̗͈́̓S̷͓̼̆c̷̨̍̀̏a̷̝͗̿͝t̵̬̋̚t̷̰̹̾ͅe̷̞̍r̷̺͓̀i̵̝̠̚n̵̳̱͖̈́̔̅g̵̡̀̀ ̸̯͔̊͋̕ó̵̢̬̠̈́r̷͙͘d̶̩̖̳̀͐͛ê̷̙̘r̵̤̳̖̂ ̶͇̥͛ͅi̷͈͚̜͒͊́n̶̹̒̈́t̷̤̃͝ȏ̷͈͑̕͜ ̴̧̺̈́ͅc̸͇͇̪̏͘ ̷̟̲̒̉̃Ḑ̸͓̤̌̔i̷͓̎̕s̷̮͉̱̠̻̔̓͗̍ǫ̶͕̞̓̔͠͠͝r̴̝͂̈́̚͘d̴̛͙̘͂e̸͙̓̌͘͠͠r̷̘͎̣̐̍̐̕͠ ̵͓͔̏̅̔̑ḥ̴̆̾͆a̵̮̠͆͝͝ȍ̸̠̪̠͌̂s̷̨̟̫̈́̌.̸̤̈̇ ̴̙̟͂̐́ͅG̸͍͂̌r̷͕͕̜̂ĕ̵͈̓a̷͎̪̲̅t̸̳͚̫̔ ̴̢̺̀͆͜m̸̟̈͋͜ͅo̷̲̯̱̓̌͠n̶͚̕s̶͇̓ ̷͚̽͘͝M̴̲̫̹̬͑̄a̸̧͆d̸̙͈̣̝͋̈́d̴̡̞̟̃̔̉͜͝͠n̵̮̬̰͌͋̀͂ê̷̠͑š̸̤̪s̷̩̟̓́͝ ̷̼̱̪͈̾ͅt̷̞͔͓͌̆r̴̝̫̪͛̚͝o̶̭̪̖͛͗u̸͓͗s̴͔̜̓ ̶̹̣̓a̴̙̣͉̍͛̏r̵̲̮̪̉m̶̞̓i̵͙͕̺͒e̷͇̊s̷̜͔̙̃ ̶͉͚͚̽w̸̘͚̄a̸̧̧͚͆̋̾r̷͚̯͋r̷̟̕í̵̺̀͠ṋ̸̙̗̑̿͘g̴̼͛.̵͙̞̫͒̃ ̴̛̻͊͘È̸̝͔̪͝n̵̝̍̓ḑ̸̧̢̛̈́̎l̴̮̙̋e̶̜̹̾̄̎ͅs̷͈̪̃s̵͎̺̞̽͗ ̴̢̢͖̋ẘ̴̺͌͝a̵̪͓̟̽̒r̶͓̞̋̎̚͜.̷͕̟̀ ̸̹̏̓͝E̸͖̞͑̓ń̴̪̹̱̄d̷̦̑̌̎ḷ̷̜̈ ̸̩̒F̷̻̤̐̂͠r̴̲̯͕͎̾ȩ̷̯̒̃n̶̡̘̫̅̆̀͒́z̷̦̭͖̠̋̍y̶̱͎̻͓͖̅̓ ̵̨̦̮̬̝̀͒͊̉ḛ̵̞͇͒̔̒š̷̓̉͜s̴̢̫̹͊ ̷̫̟̍̕F̵̧̛̩̍̒í̵̬̼̯͐g̵̩͙͆͆h̶͍͒͂͆t̶̥̜̝͊ị̴̄n̷̦̞̿̕ĝ̷̗͘.̸͖̌ ̸̢̰͒̈͜E̸̢̛̻̐n̵̨̯̐̊͝d̵͈̭̯̅l̸̪̬̂ͅe̸͈̾͒͠ͅͅs̷͎̫̏̃̈́͜s̸̨̧̖̚ ̵̡͔̔̒C̴̣̈́̌ͅh̸͉̓͆̇ȃ̵͓̳̐ỡ̷̢͍̖͗s̷͇̄͂ ̴͉͌͛̄E̷͓͋̇n̸̨̨̧̯̰͂̎̉̔̃̀͘t̷̩͆̈́̃r̷̗̗͐ö̸̦͋̊̾̈́̈̆p̶̨̟̳̂̌̑̈̿͂̄y̷̛̺̯̘̽͆ ̵͎̓͝ͅͅ

@Madhukar

Doug.

Madhukar wanted to reach out to them. Her whole face burned with something terrible, like she'd just pressed it against a live wire. She didn't want to do that, no, please don't make her do that, how does anyone even do that, how does that work, how is that possible--

"Doug." Her voice felt coarse with sudden overpowering emotion. Why did it fit so well, why had she NEVER asked? 'You know why Madhukar, I already told you not to lie to yourself anymore.' Never had a name meant so much to her before. The act of giving it, reminding her of seconds before the fight, minutes before the fight, hours, days, weeks, cycles before the fight-- 'You have treated them all with cruelty. From Sniffles, to Doug, to Tahi-shei, to that nameless monster you USED. You already know you hate the separation, so why do you pretend you don't? Why do you act like you NEED it?' She was being torn apart at the seams. Why hadn't all this pain ended when she'd hit the chrysalis-- why hadn't she been reworked in slumber? 'STOP LYING TO YOURSELF ALREADY.' She knew, she knew, she knew...

The fog cleared. Condensed into little water droplets, running down her cheeks. At least it was getting rid of that burning sensation. How was this possible--?

Doug, Doug, Doug, Doug, Doug, remember everything, remember Doug, give them that name, make them the person they have always been, the person YOU neglected. You are responsible for Doug. You are guilty of this crime. Madhukar ran through the memories of this wiggler -- almost always mad, annoyed, and for what? If she had had the power then that she had now, Doug would have been the first or second victim of her abuse. Knowing that made her reel with abrupt sickness, striking herself with another emotional bolt. It made that water fall faster, harder. She still didn't get it, she didn't know what was happening. 'You hurt people. You hurt people. You hurt DOUG.' When has she not? 'Well there was one time...' Oh, she remembers.

Doug's magic.

Was that what was hurting them? Did they still not understand it? Even after she had tried to help them-- 'Are you seriously getting angry about this Madhukar? If you are, then you have learned nothing. Do not use your magic, don't you dare. Think, Madhukar, the one time you were doing something GOOD for this PERSON, what were you trying to do?' Help them. With magic-- theirs. 'You would know something about that wouldn't you?'

Madhukar's face twisted into one of concern for the wiggler-- for Doug. The water falling down her face was scorching with emotion, another kind of burn. She didn't want to talk while she felt like this, but her mind was forming something to say, so Madhukar knew it would have to be said eventually. Doug looked miserable; they weren't wiggling, they weren't happy and everything was rotten and everything was wrong. Doug didn't deserve this. Doug didn't deserve her fury. Doug deserved better. What could she do?

She twisted around, seeing jagged splinters of chrysoberyl of all shapes and sides littered around her like the crash site of a meteor. She reached for one with an outstretched paw, as if to slide it closer to herself, only to realize-- her paw was weird. She was moving in a strange way, not very... not like she was used to moving. She tried to unsheathe her claws -- that worked. She tried to... flex her paw? Her eyes got wide at the response to that brain signal. She tried to twist her paw sideways and WOAH THAT WAS WAY TOO BENDY-- had she come out already broken?

Or had she come out new?

Madhukar shook her head, avoiding the temptation to inspect the rest of her body for oddities. The fog had left her head, and now one of her paws, but it remained obstinate in covering the rest of her like a blanket. It was almost more comfortable that way. It let her focus.

She put her way-too-flexible paw behind the splinter of chrysoberyl and gently scooted it towards herself.

"D-Doug. Doug... tr-try magic on th-this?" Since when had talking felt this impossible to do? She prodded it closer to Doug. "M-Make... Make i-t... it... Make disappear?" Like they had before. They had practiced on rocks, or tried to. Madhukar had tried to help Doug control their powers. Wasn't that the best she could do for them, right now? The one thing she felt like she could give... even if she was still learning it herself. Right? 'Focus on Doug.' That's right, that's right, she could focus.

She had to test him. Like a doctor. Was Madhukar pretending to be some kind of healer now?

Think "Speak"

@Doug
((I find it EXTREMELY funny that the WOTD was "Euphoric" while I was writing this post. Also, yes, Madhukar is saying pretty much all this stuff through tears. She does not Get crying ghgjdhfkgj))

Vaguely, it occurred to him that while he'd told her his name, she hadn't returned the favor. But that didn't matter. In fact, why was he having this conversation? Visions of chaos dances across his vision, of great alien wars and wonderful chaos. Why wasn't he doing that? Why was he

Flashes of nothing. Flashes of the void. Nothing but pitch black, the glimpse of glowing green eyes if you were lucky. He was used to it- of course he was used to it, it's been happening for his entire life. But this time it felt like it was like that darkness would swallow up everything. That'd he'd blink and blink and blink but all there'd be was that empty expanse and those green eyes.

Then the cat spoke and oh- yeah, she was still here. He caught a glimpse of her, when his magic allowed it. Eyes wet, words spoken thick.

Crying.

In any other circumstance, he would've comforted her. But the roar of entropic voices all screamed different things. Different actions. He couldn't c̷͎͔̙̺͊ọ̷̠̞̇̿̆̕m̸̤̖̗͕̋f̷̨͇͍̩̉̏̉̇o̸̳͉̺̣̹̊̈͗̏r̶̺͖̩̓͜ţ̴̙͚̿̿͑̌͑k̷̼̎̐̎́̎i̶̙͇̋͗̚l̴̛̞̿͒̋͌l̸̛̘̎̔̈́ͅh̸̩͕͈̓̍͜ê̷̹̦͍̄̚l̴̔́̐ͅp̸͇͍̺͉̆̋ŕ̸̥͔̜͕̎̄͑u̸̧̯̭͚̲͂̓̿̀͝n̴͓͖͓̣͇͌͑̊̃d̴̤̙͌͗̏̑͘e̴̢͈͖̪͌̾͑s̶̡̗̮̿̂t̵̺͎̥̏̊̉ͅǫ̷͉͈͇̱͐͌r̵͉̼͕̠̗͗y̷̨͓̼͌͛͆̑͝ţ̶̝̫̔̀̆̿͝ȃ̷̳̬̂́̀͜ľ̷͍̮̰̎k̷̺̙̖̽͝w̸̨̙̹͎̍͊͋̓͒o̸̧̟̝͆͆͜ȕ̸͎̭̼̤̦̐̄̏̅ǹ̸͕̕͝d̶̞͌̋͗ all at once, so he stood stock-still, even with the near-deafening barrage of invisible voices in his ears.

Magic. She'd said. He could do that.

Wordlessly, he lowered his gaze, trying to focus on the shard of gemstone. The first spell he ever knew, seemingly as part of him as his gemstone. Easy. He just had to S̴p̴r̶e̴a̸d̵ What? S̶̛̹p̵̽͜ŗ̷̾é̶̫ḁ̸̚ḏ̸̒ What had she told him to do? He had to S̵̡͖̈́p̷̧̟͛̊r̴̥̅̋ė̷͖̟å̴͙̇ḑ̸͍͆̚.

Magic reached out, but it didn't wrap around the stone, pulling it into the void. But It didn't sink into the earth, into the plants, either. It just went into the sliver of gem.

The stone grew. It wasn't a sliver now, but a growing chunk of greenish gemstone.

It occurred to him that this wasn't what she had told him to do.

"Oh.." He said, somewhat belatedly.

@Madhukar

What had Doug...?

Madhukar watched them do... something to the gemstone. It started to glimmer like some kind of wealthy jewel, the very opposite of the disappearance Madhukar had expected. That was so strange... so confusing-- AH! And now the fog was starting to cover Doug up too...

'Focus. Focus. FOCUS. Please?' Please held a sour note in her mind, like pressing on two adjacent keys and then putting your foot on the pedal-- not on purpose, not sarcastic, just... 'When was the last time someone had asked you for something that you can remember, before you...' Exactly. She could hear them, feel the rising voices calling his name-- t--T--TA-- and she quickly drowned them out with another armada of commands: 'FOCUS, FOCUS, FOCUS.'

Now what had she asked Doug to do? Control their magic. And they hadn't... or had they? Doug was not obligated to answer to Madhukar. But the "Oh" entailed surprise, almost. Duller than a weapon of blunt force, but still...

Doug had come here, and Madhukar was trying to help them, and something deep in her gut was telling her that Doug was beyond help. She didn't want to listen. It didn't want to stop, so it threw out a distraction instead. 'Go back. Doug came here? Why?' No, no, no, FOCUS, remember? Focus on Doug. This is about Doug. But it's the reason you're still here, talking to them! Focus on THAT! Yeah, Doug's magic is out of their control. And you want to do something about that, right? Hey, quick question: why is Doug here? Why is Doug here? Why is Doug here? Why is Doug here?

The fog was coming back, fast. Madhukar needed a light. Or something. Everything looked blurry...

"Ok... why a... are here? You here. Wh--" Stop. She stopped. It felt like a non sequitur when she said it out loud, but it had suddenly usurped her need to know anything else. Go. Once again, she tried: "Here when I wake up... you... why?"

SHAME, SHAME, SHAME, SHAME, SHAME, SHAME, SHAME--

Out of nowhere it hit, slammed her into the earth. 'YOU'RE NOT FOCUSING, MADHUKAR. YOU'RE RUNNING AGAIN. IT DOESN'T MATTER WHY DOUG IS HERE, YOU NEED TO HELP DOUG. YOU NEED TO HELP THEM ALL. WHY ARE YOU RUNNING MADHUKAR, WHY DO YOU KEEP DISAPPEARING--' Her words were already in the air, clinging like molasses, boiling her skin with the abrupt need to take them back. She couldn't. Madhukar couldn't rope them back in.

Madhukar didn't even know how to move.

Think "Speak"

@Doug

S̸͔͆p̶̜͝r̸͙͆ē̷̲a̸̞̐d̸͕̈́.̴͉͝ ̶̥͐G̴̺̋o̵̟̔ȯ̵̡d̵͖̕.̸͙̂ ̷̞̚S̷͙͗p̷̛͓ř̷̩è̴͈a̷̗͘ḏ̶͐ ̸͎͝i̸̥̒t̷͉͒.̵͔͌.

Had he been able to think clearly. Had he been able to see clearly, had he been able to focus on anything but the slow dissolving of everything into a boiling sea of pure entropy, it would've be different. He would've offered encouragement, comfort- anything, really, other than this.

̵͚̥̜͍̘͠S̸͚̔p̵̀͜r̴̛̹ē̷̜ạ̶͑d̸̝̅ ̷̥̃C̸͓̅h̶͉̚a̶͓͑o̴̼̓s̷̟͋ ̶̹̔Ş̷̽p̶̛̩ŕ̷͈e̷̟͝a̴̦͛d̵̀ͅ ̵̩̒D̷͚͝e̵͓̿s̷̳̑ṭ̸̏r̶̡̒u̴̬͝c̶͕̓t̶̟͒î̵͉̖́͠o̶̝͖̊͊̈́ń̶̟ ̴̙̗͗̏͝Ş̷̬̎̋p̶̻͍̾r̴̮̋e̶̤̾̏́ͅả̸͓̂̅d̴̛̝̣̠̆̇ ̵̧̱̲̔͝E̴͍͍̼͋̾n̸̢̛̙̔́t̸̝͔͐ř̸̡͘͘o̶̻͙̅̂p̶̣͛̓͋ȳ̷̫̐.

'Ok... why a... are here? You here. Wh--' This drew his attention, lifting his head to catch a glimpse of her face through the warring visions- beginning to overlap. Beginning to swallow it all up. 'Here when I wake up... you... why?' He had been here for a reason. All this time, he had stayed to.. to..

T̴̳͊h̶̰͖̄̔u̷̩̔̓n̸̫̾̂͗d̸͇͈̐e̷̱̮̤̒r̶̞̔̅̑.̵̹̼͠ ̸̧̞͔͌͗L̸̙̬͍̓i̶̹̙͒̋g̶̬̬̽h̷̠͔̕t̶̲̍̀͘n̸̡͖̺̅i̷̻̰͐n̷͍̲̳͛͗͊g̶̲̼̻̎̀͋.̶̗͓̲̾͝ ̴͙̰̽͋̄T̶̢̳̪͒̈́e̵̗͉̰͑́ā̸̳̟r̴̟͖͓̉̊̑i̴̛̮ͅn̸͙̺̪͒̎̄g̴͈̍̎̏ ̴̧̝̜̊u̸̘͆̇̇p̶̨̊̍͜͝ ̸̤͐̀͝b̷̻͝a̵̳̟̪̅t̸͎̫͋̏̕ẗ̶̤̪͍́l̴͚͓͒͜ȩ̶̝̚f̶̻̕͠i̵͉̭̫̎̿̇e̷̢͉͋̇l̶̡̹͘͝d̵͉̽́ṡ̶̼͇̭͑͘.̷͙͆̊̈́ ̷̙̜͂B̷͍́ḷ̶̨̛͍ö̶͇o̴̟͘d̶̦̚.̵͙̔͂ ̷̡͂̽̌İ̶̥̙̲̾͌n̴͓̪͓͠f̷͍̤̆͛i̷̜̾̓̊n̷͎̈́i̴̡̝͈̇̀ẗ̸̺́̉e̸̮̒̋ ̸̭̥̏͆n̸̟̞͑̊̿͜ȩ̶̯̣͝o̵̲̯̽̇͜n̴̳͖̤͒ ̴͕̜̲̽h̶̺͉͎̀u̵̠͑ḙ̸́̈s̴̹̤̾̈́ ̷̳͎͇̽̂ö̵̠̟̬f̴͚̯̜̆͝ ̴̱̯̺̀̀̆b̴̨̰̽̀̆l̴̛̼̋̚͜o̶̬̙͉̅̐o̶̘̪͗̚͝d̵͈̕.̵̝̰̈́ ̴̨͖̘̅͊͘M̶͕͍̈́̉͝o̷̖͑n̴̰̪͑͂͜͝s̴̛̘̓ṯ̵̠͒͋ḛ̷̻̆r̸̳̪͝s̸̼͓͛͠.̴͔͊ ̴̡̜͋̚̕A̶̡̟͛́͜͝l̵͓̟̀̏ḯ̸͖͈͇͑e̴̤̬͚͗n̵̰̎̉s̸̛͉̗͔͊͝.̴̟͗͝ ̸͍̋̂Á̶̟̬̘͝t̶͎̹̀̄̆ ̴̧̻͛w̸͚̥̾̑͝ͅa̴̡̖̕r̸̝̓͂́.̷̮͇̇̐̈ ̴̱̲̍͂E̵̺̭͈̎͋n̵͇̚d̵̦̋̓͒l̶͙̜͋̓̈́ȇ̸̢̒͝ś̵̨͇̣̾s̸̡̮̩̀́ ̵͖̑f̵̰̅ì̸̯̻̊g̴̬̟̒̈́̿h̶͈͍͜͠t̶͓͖̻̒̀͐ī̶̢̮̚n̵̺̞̋g̵͇̚͝.̶̦̘̽ ̸̰̈́E̵̤̻͇̿n̵̢̼̟̓d̶̬̲̲̈́l̴̙̪̉̄͛ė̶̡̠̪͘s̸̖͛̌͆ś̶̜͍͍ ̶̣͎̜̅b̴̡̹̃̿̉l̷͉̙̥͛̚ò̴̤̃̽ͅọ̵͍̃͋̌d̷̛͇͍̚̚.̴̨̈́ ̷̬̰̼̈́͘̕E̴̡̫͊͠͝ͅň̴͙̝̦d̷̗̲̎̉l̷̢͕̗̈͌e̶̢̥̟̾ș̴̼͠ş̷͍͝ ̴̩̾C̶̹̜͓̀̑͛h̶̟̜̜͠a̷̱̒̊ō̶̮̯̍͝s̸͇̭͛̒.̷̙̯̐.

"I- Lightning. loud. here. I- you-r blood. Chrysalis. I was- fight it? fight.. you? no- no- fight-" Oily 'drool' dripped readily from his jaws with every word, making them slosh together. He seemed to be paying attention to everything but her- but not in the easily distracted childish way he normally did. His eyes darted to keep track of ancient alien wars, ears twitched as whispered crawled into them.

̊E̶̠̽͐ń̴̠t̷̮̱̺̍̿͘r̵̞͌̌o̵͕̠͘p̷͙̖̺̂y̶͠ͅ.̵̛̆ͅ ̸̳͖̇e̸͉̹̪͗n̴̰̤̒͠d̴̗̓l̵͖̯̹̓̆͌ê̴̻̥̝s̵̰͖̞̎̓͠ş̴̙̌̒.̶̨̄ ̶͇̄C̴̜̫̞̾̔h̷͙͂͝a̴͕̲͈͒́̂ņ̸͍̐̄̓g̵͇̭̠̑͝e̵̢̩̟͌̽-̶̫̽ ̴̹̹̊ḃ̴̭a̶̡̾͐̕ṱ̴͈̌t̶͓̔͝ḷ̷̽ẹ̸͈́s̴̲̊̔-̵̢̜̈́͜ ̷̩͝c̷̯̟͆͝h̶̰͇͊̒ạ̵̌ǫ̸̱͐s̸͎͒͛͘.̴̗̟͍̈̐̈́ ̶̤̌̅͑c̵̠̳̳̅o̶̩̜̓̾͝ŕ̴̜͛ŗ̶͙͔̂ư̸̬͑̉p̸̢̛t̷̡̖̿́i̸̪̺̓̑̅o̸̪͛̈n̴̓ͅ.̸̮̻̉͑͌ ̶̢͈͚͋j̶̥̐̕ỏ̸̼͒͘i̶̳̖̞̒̀n̷̢̛͕̘͗̚ ̶͖̙̈́i̸̱̮͍̕ṱ̵͎̇ͅ ̴̨̋̏̿j̴̗̟̇͜ó̴̧̙̗̀ī̷̞͆̑ͅn̴̦͊̈́͠ͅ ̵̜̹̍͘i̷̲̽̀͛t̶̪̼̆́̐ ̴͎̘͘f̶̨̻̀͂̇i̸̙̍̅ğ̷͚͈̮͐h̸̺͛̆t̵̼͐̕̚ ̴̞̟̜͒͛̌i̴̭͊̔͑t̸̨̩̐̅͂ ̸̞́͛͑f̵͚̂ĭ̴̛̮̈́g̷̲̽͛͛h̸̗̯͛̒̉t̵̹̐̃̈́ ̵̡̣̯̑ů̸͍̔s̶̥̊ ̸͍̓f̷̗̈́͐̈́i̷̝͔̋͌̍g̴̠̚h̶̳̆͂t̵̯͍͑ ̵͚̎t̴̠̋ḧ̴̞͎́̔͜ȩ̵͖̽̃m̵̭̊r̴̨̢̞̿̿͆?̵̗͇̀́͌-̶̻̦͝t̵̰̎è̴͉̬a̴͖͍̚r̶̯̐͊ ̴̣̱̮̅̓i̷̛̲̅̒t̵̤̲͜͠͝͝m̶͖͌̃d̷͓̣̰̆̔i̶̖̽͝ ̷̮̳̋̓͝e̷̹̿͆̈́ ̵̘̑̓t̶̟̩͖̓ẽ̶͕̄͝ͅa̵͔͇͓̾̏ŕ̸̛͎̻͠ ̸̳͂̆̐o̵̠͙̐̐͝r̵̯̟̽͂ḏ̷̙̾͠e̸̙̖͌̌́r̴̫̭͛̋ ̸̘̝̹͊i̸̧̨̠̓h̶̞͖͂͂͜ ̵̨͐r̴̙̋̚ ̴͈͊̾͆c̵̡̬̫͆ĥ̴̺̥͜o̸͔̳̐̐͆̓s̵̰͑ ̶̜̫͜͝r̶͓̪̊͆̋̇è̷̝͆̃i̸͚̺̟̺̅͌̀͠ḩ̵̀ ̷̤̳̘͖̋͊-̴̯̓͂̈́ ̴̝͕̜͗̚g̵̦̍̈͛̎n̷̠͝š̴̰̠̚͝ ̵̗͈̗̈́̚͝ǎ̸̤̼͙̆̎t̴̗̄͝w̴̗͈͉̭̓͗e̴̺͓͂͆̽̏ţ̸̫̋'̵̤̬͚̾͑̈́̓o̵̤͎͑̊ͅ ̷̨͍̮̰̈́̊̕i̶̟̻̼̚͝ ̷̞͝ơ̶̝̝͙̑ͅe̴͈͈̯̒ỵ̵̓f̷̱͕́̏͐͒ÿ̴͇̺́͑͋̐n̴̰͔̼͆f̶͙̪͋́̽̕s̵̺̄̏ó̶̻̐͘ ̵̮̊̉͛͜d̴̨̛̟͙͉m̶̡̢̞͔̍ṯ̸̞̺̌̓-̵̦͖̩̟̀ț̶͋͒̚y̶̬̘̦͍͌ṱ̴͓̋̏ͅ ̶̻͕̓̿ḿ̸͈̹h̷̢̛̼̒͝n̷̘̝̱̑è̴̙̉ẘ̵̤̝̺͇̏͘ ̵̬̩̟̌̐͂̕h̴̜̩̀͗̂n̴͕͇͛ì̵̖̭̱͈̃͗u̸͂́ͅh̶̯͍̔͘d̶̩͙̿́͆͠ą̷̲͓̑̃̌͆ ̵̼̺̭͔̎̏͠͝ŕ̴͔̖̣̊ț̷̪̖̀̾͜ģ̶̙̦̯̒̿͠r̵̬̳̫͋͒i̴̫̺̥͆͋͌̋ļ̵̲͍̑͐͋͑g̸͙̞̪̓́͝i̸̡̤͂̑͜͝e̷̗̐͛.̸̺̰͓̐t̸̖͈̀́͝ť̸͉̟͖̅̿̕ͅi̶̤͚̻͗̄͒b̷̫͈̲̝͆́̄ ̸̼͚̝̈́͋́s̵̤̟̒d̷̢̫̟͕͑ͅḩ̵̠͛͌ǹ̸̥͛͆̊͘ ̷̟̫̈̃ò̷̯͎͓̟̓.̷̳͒̀e̴̦̋͋̇̑̕ ̸̜́̎͠t̵̻̲͂͋͐̏̚e̶̜̥̼̹̽̿̑d̸̖͈̭̤̹͌̔̂́a̶̭̼͚̳̓̽͘t̸͉̫̙̲̐̏͝w̵͇̻̍̍ļ̴͚͙̭̠̔ ̸̘͐͆̀͌e̶̥̺̙̟͑͛͋͋g̷̭̠̦̈́h̵̘͙̺̟͉̉͂̄͆h̶̤̬̦̻̐̓͐͂̒ñ̸̨̡̗̌͝ỹ̷̗̹͉o̵̧͔͎̼̐̑e̷̳̻̗̓̊͊͠͝ͅọ̷̞͌̽͑̉͠e̷̞̯͍̿͛̿ ̸͖͇̅̅̽e̸͖̓o̷̖̳͌͒̾̈́͜v̸͍̬̟̩͓͆̔̆̽͠d̷̼̦͗̉̒͂͜w̸̢̝͚̆.

He looked down and oh- the grass probably wasn't supposed to be black. This was far too much goop- far too much whispers- far too much everything. "I- This.. not good." A single moment of realization. "Ba-d. I ne-ed-" Was she still here? He could barely see her. Barely focus on her. There was far too much warranting his attention. This was bad- he needed to do something. But they were telling him to do everything. Wh̸a̶̼̾ẗ̸͕͙́̕-̵̭́̃

g̴̵̱̟͙̀̐du̸s͒̈́͝.̰̮̮̇̐͘d̴̴̺͍̟̜͒̀i̸̲̲̤l̬̹̭͝͝á̻͕̽͛̿͜e̸͉̹f̒́o̴̶̧͚̫͇̿͘͜ͅg̵̵̸̶̡͓̳̍s̴̸̷̵͚͍̟̋̅̉͊͛̚͜hn̍̓̄̊ȑ̖͎̮͉̫e͍.̞.̷̸̗̙t̴̷̶̙͙̝͔s̪̈́g̵̷̷̢͓͓̯̟͖͙̒̎̊̚ḑ̷̵̜̰iḑ̷̶̴̶̙͉̭͉̏͗̾ ̶̲̲͑͋̈́͘̚ ̶̶͆̋ė̶̿̔̀̔͒b̦͇̈́̋͠l̶̰̼̲̬͛̈̑͝l̴̜̼̈́̒͋n̴͙͋͋d̶̨̧̢̜̲̮͍́̈̇̈́̌̈́̑́i̴ ̶̴̶͍͇͙̈́ŏ̵̶̶̙̭͇̺̠̱́̉̀̆l̴̴̡͍̘͙̪̳͈̲̝̑̇̓͝͝n̶̮̋̕s͎̣̲̱̝̹͋̽̊̚͝͝ẹ̴̵̡̛͝t̴͉̤̼̗̀s̷̡̟̮͂̏̉̽͆f̑.̊͝͝n̴̦̻͌n̵̶̛̤͈͇̬͑å̸͝o̷̶̸̷̸̬̦̎͘͠s̴̼̻̹̯͎̓̀͂̿̚ơ̶͗͜ ̬d̨͍̗͈ȧ̸̸̶̷̸̸̸̸̡͔̤̰̳͓̯̟̳̬̀͐̆̓́̃̚̚͝͠ͅi͠l͖̘̀͛l̯ ̭ė̷͍͇̜̹̙͕̉͋̊͝s̄b̵̶͖̞͂͆͊g̶̤̀̽͝ͅn̝̟o̵̷̽͊͂̂͑̄a̴̷͓̝̪͗͒̀͛͝ ̴̴u̲͗ ̵͇̄̕e̲̦̥l̵̸̜̬͉̼̤̒̊̽f̨̟̀͛m̸̼̟̎t̷̸͈̟̆ę̷̶̴̪͑̃r̵̍̕͘i.̴̌̕n ỉ̜͍̖̐̽ị̟̻s̰.̀t̴̞͓̣f. ̡t̠so̴̸̷̢̰̙̬͚͕̤̾̄͋̈́͌̄̔̚̚ ͎̂t̶͖͛̓͐͜ͅd̴͌́͋́r̶̟̜̾̽u̖̅̒̊ ̶̷̎i̶̷̴̹̙̙̾͠n̷̶̺͇̋̋͜ë̵̴͔̰́͠ ̰r̵̵͎͓̬͉d͍̀͠ ̶͇̣͎͈͐̍ḡ̲h̻e̴̶̸̡̗͍͗̿̂̅͒̽͘͜͝ ̶̸̵̷̳̫̮̺̺̑̾̇.̰̒ ̴p͖h͒̃͊e̶ ẖ̴̓̔͂.̶̸͈̰̻̭́͆̾̎̓̇͝e̽n̪̕t͇̺̪̅ơ̸̪̇̈̾͑̈o̸̭̯̤ņ͊̆͝e̷̢̡̱̼̘͔̩̟̅̈́͛̎c ̈́en̷̜̻͇͒͠n̵̸̵̹͖̻̩̗̐͘į̸̵̛̳̘̥͑̈̎̾͝s͇ ̡̌b̵̶̴̶͈̪̠̟͓̈́̓̅.o̢̢̤̜̒̈́̑ņ̴̵̵̦̼̻̈́͛̕̚͝ě̜l̷lb̛̰̆̀͛͜sī̴̸̪̳̥̘ ̾o̯ls̶̶̯̥̩̠̀t̨̝͍̍h̢͊a̫͂w̜͑ta̴̶̴̷̵̴̷̡̡͖̠͚̺͍̥͍̳͓͉̅̏̇͋͗̚̕n̪̰̉.̸̶̘̬̞͖́
̛̥̲̦̬̥͒́͂̚͜͝lí̇͌ls̶̰̣͙̈́.̷̴̴͖̳̒͘ȇ̷̟͔̩͇͍̮̘̞̍̑͐̋̉̕ ̱̗̇.͠d̜́̇gtȩ̶̸̶̶̸̶̶̷̰͚̜͒̽̒̎͑͑̀̑̚̕͝s͗r̴ ̵̜i͍͈͉̎́͝ ̤͒o̜̹̒̄ë.̶̝̼̖̾h̅͘ģ̻͍͚̉d̶͔͇͑͘l̶̲̘̭̭͍͒̕͠ ͓̹̒n̵̶̛̰̯̪̼̤̲̘̭̲̍̔͑ ̴̰n̪h̸̰͍̒ib̸̆̒d̖̝͘̕tg̴̶͖͖̹͙̈́̎̀̚͜b̰ļ̸̶̸̵̵̴̷̴̡̡͍͇̬̻̙͉̲̬̰̯͕͉͓͍̮̀̈́̑͂̄͊͛̏̚͠aó̵̶̷͓͉̞̱̳̈́̉̕͠͝i̶̶̢̹͊̈́̋̚sͅn̸̵̡͉̫̜͔̈́̄̈́͜b̷̸̨̠̝̬̗̫̑̊̍́͗̃͘g̴͛̈́́f͝p̴̴̴̴̵̛̦̙̗̓̈͆̚s̻̳̾ȅ̵̵̶̢͖̜̲͓̜͇͚̌̊̎s̵ ̼͓ ̶͍͈̻̤e ̶̶̛̇̾́d̷͈͇̅̃h.̴̴̜̈̉͋s̀o̸̡̤͔͋ ̡͍̻.̸̞̏e̸̴̢̡͙͒o̎̀r̸̶̷̡̢̲̻̙̟̳̝͓̤̹̻̰̦̜̔̽̽̿̎̓̔̐̚̚͜͝͠n ̷̴̵̵̨͖̟̥͎̌̊̑͑̕s͂f̓͜f̷̳s̷̷̩͇̈n̶̟ṋ̴̫͜d̶̨͍̩͓̀̐͝͝t̶̵͠͝͝ỏ̴̻c̪.̷̵̴̸̴̸̴̷̨͉͇̣̘̜͇̘̹̺̯̌̓͝͝a̋sa̵̳͊ng͈̊â̶̸̛̳̊ne̶̷̤̅̄͠ ̸̷̥̓̂ ̮t͎s.̺̟͙e̴̟͈̤͖͋̏̇͝͝ͅi̴ ̽̀̒̈́.͆r̸̲a̅͋ē͇̿̌͠i͂ ̴̤̰̬͐̀̽o̶̬ ̸̴̷̴̴̪̬̪̿͂̾͛̚͝ ̴̘̗̪͑͌͋̐m̡̳̬͐͜d͖̋̽͛͊eb̵̸̢̡͇͖͍͈̟̟̾̿̄͛̅̽ͅt̶̺͍̪̼̀̆̅͛͋͝r̴̢̰̈́n̴̯̆.l̵.̶͆l͗̂e̷̸̝͎͙͗̊̍̎̐̈̾ͅù̷͙n̮̆̆͑t̶̍͘d̈́ę̵̸̸̷̬̲̙͎̮̺̀͗̋͛̕͝lo ̶̺͒̀ ̱̟̃͝ë̸̶̙́̄ds̵̙̟̰̜̯̚ṅ̙̖͓̭̣̅͛͊t̢̛̟̞fá̤̟̪͒͘ụ̵ḻw̼ ̵̸̴͉͕̙̠̼̇͋̔͝n͆l̶̶̷͎̮̗̾̊̾n̵̸̷̡̻̟̟̽͋͝lŏ̷̦̲̈́u̴̜̫i͇̚ȩ̸̸̰̲̼̱̽̊͜h̴̶̶̷̷͚̯̹͇͛̇̋s͈̺̀e̠͌ṱ̷̡̼̝o͎̣͍̯̪̮̓̓̾̈́n̶̵̠͗ ̵̧̨̠͓̬͍̺̿͋͛͂̓̈́͝ţh̴͕i.̴̶̶̥͉̦̪̉̄̀̽̇̇ií̵̸̴̀̉o̶͊
.

@Madhukar

Things didn't get better, or clearer. The two of them were just here, among this gnarled land, and Madhukar only seemed to be making it worse for them. Doug didn't have a real response. It was too confusing, it didn't answer the question. 'You should have focused on helping them.' But she didn't know what they needed-- 'You should have focused on helping them.'

Doug seemed to decay right in front of her. Their eyes and jaws were leaking that repugnant black fluid with no end to the flow in sight, and you could tell the splitting of their mind in the skittering of their eyes around the arena. It was terrifying to be honest. Still, Madhukar couldn't tear her eyes away. As long as there was no reason to run-- 'You can't just run again, you have to help him.' So she was stuck here. Helpless. Unhelpful.

Then Doug almost said what they needed, which made her heart skip a beat as it suddenly stood on the edge of relief. If she knew what to do, she could do it, she could help, then she could continue to... to... 'I have a plan.' Onward, then. She needed to go. She had to get out of here. 'But you're missing the more important thing.' What?! What was-- 'WHY ARE YOU SO BENT ON GETTING AWAY! DON'T YOU CARE?! DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT THEM?!'

It jogged a memory. It jogged a lot of memories. Train after train of memories of Doug, of worrying about them at the Olympics, then the Olympics-- jump cut to meeting them, their energy, now it was gone-- jump cut to-- back to Doug. Madhukar had never wanted to admit it. She had much sooner wished to hate those feelings. They never felt good. It never felt good to wish someone was around when they weren't. It never felt good to miss anybody. Doug hadn't been there for a lot of the time. Doug had been elsewhere, probably dealing with, well, things like THIS. But now, Doug was here, FINALLY here, and struggling, and what did Madhukar care about? 'Running away. Exactly.'

Oh.

She wanted to help them. She wanted to. That was her, not just a voice screaming at her in her head, right? She cared about Doug, didn't she? But she didn't know how... and they had almost given it to her. Almost. Something stopped them. What?

"W-" Ow. "Need- N- what?"

Think "Speak"

@Doug

It stared at the ground, but it wasn't truly seeing the ground, grass stained with it's oil. It's ears perked, but it didn't truly hear her voice, only the

H̷u̶r̵r̸i̷c̴a̷n̵e̸ ̷l̴i̴g̵h̵t̸n̷i̴n̷g̴ ̷s̷t̵o̸r̵m̶s̶ ̶u̸p̴r̸o̵o̴t̷e̸d̵ ̶t̶r̸e̸e̷s̶ ̵d̵r̴o̸w̵n̶ṅ̷̮e̸͚̍d̸̹̓ ̵̮͝ẻ̷͕a̶͍̐r̷̛̫ț̸͛h̷̙͋ ̴̡̊s̴̝̿c̵̠̅o̶͍͌r̸̫̓c̸̬͒h̴̘͝ę̸̾d̵̟͐ ̷͖̃ë̴͇ȧ̵͎r̴̠̿t̷̡̑h̸͉͒ ̷̬͋f̵̬̍ō̸̙r̷͚͠e̷͉͛s̵͓̈́t̷͔̋ ̷̐͜f̵̤͋i̷̜͑r̶̩͆e̷̲̕s̶̥̿ ̸̯͌ù̵̖ǹ̷͎c̶̢͂ḥ̴̈́e̶̹̊c̶̫̾k̶̛͍e̴͚͌d̶̈͜ ̴̩͝ġ̵̞r̴̞̈o̴̲̒w̸̭̌ť̵̨h̶́ͅ ̴̛ͅċ̴͜ḫ̸̀a̴̰͋o̸͎̓s̴̪̊ ̷̥̊y̸̑ͅạ̸̒ạ̷͆c̷̮̄s̸̙̐a̵̦͌h̸̨̃e̸̩͋ş̵͛ ̴̪͝s̷̛̰t̷͍͆ō̸̦r̶͕̆m̷̼̒s̸̡͐ ̶̗̿y̶̫͑ȅ̸̻a̴̖̕h̵͍̕̕͜s̷̞͗š̷͉̒̋ ̸͕̥̯̇d̶͉̏͒ö̴͚̰͕́͝͠ ̸̲͍̼̃i̷̗̔̈́c̶̗̀͒h̶̛̦̋ ̸̭̹̑͋̔c̴̩̾̀̅ö̴̰́͝ ̸̖̗̄͛́i̸̞̚t̷̙̗̽̔ ̵͕̭̞̈̏d̶̜͂̀o̴̘̾̋̌a̷͕̰̍c̷͓̟͐s̴̢̄̓͝i̷̙͋̽t̶̬͛ ̵͉̇t̶̘̦̋ ̸̤̬̖̆ď̶̤͓̘̮ȏ̸̦̙͈͔͗͝í̷̧a̴̝̩̞̒̎̏̈h̷̢̳͠ṡ̴̬̋̚͘t̵̼̞̟̙̍d̴̜̺͋̆ỏ̴̼̃͌ị̶̥́̇̾t̵̹͕͍̺́͌͝s̴̯̔̃c̵̯̫̮͗̆̀ċ̸̡͈̗̟̈́ã̸͔́̏̐a̶̢̯̦̹̓̇o̶̗͑̉̆̅ả̶͎c̵̞̟̔̒ơ̴̠͑̏̀s̶̰̦̰͐͊͝͝c̴͙̟̋͒ă̵̡̤͋̂̋ ̷̝̥̥̏̽̋̿o̶̘̓ͅä̵̼̺͈́̓̎͝o̴̖͕̟̒͊ç̴͝͠h̵̖̪͉̪̕ ̷̒͒̽̉͜ô̶̡̪̹̗̆̋̆s̶̹̪̣̝͊̊̔ ̴̩͗͊̒ă̴͙͇͌̒͝h̶͎̬͔̥͒͑ ̶̻̥͈̃o̸͐͜ȯ̴͚͕͝ͅc̵͈̱̯̫͂̍̀h̵̠̥͔̍̈̓͐ͅś̶̱̠̋h̶̪̓̾̌ś̵̤ŝ̸̨͎̲͉͗ạ̴̫͈̬̊ḩ̶͈̥̣̈̉̿ ̴̨͙̔̇̓c̷̦̖͈͐h̴̼͖̰̃a̷͉͓̦̯̓̈s̶̰̩̣̹̈́ọ̵͈͌ ̸̥̮͉̤͌o̶͇͑́̚ĥ̸͕̟̠́͠h̵̥̞͎̾͜c̷̞̹̞̼̈̓s̷̖̈́c̴̝͕͗̊̈́à̸̛ͅs̷̱̮͑̈̊o̸͈̜̝̓͂ǎ̴̙͈̑̇ã̷̛͎̮̀o̸̲̦͝ş̴̲̚͝c̶̦̭̥̉͘h̵̦̝̚ ̴̳̀̋͊ȃ̵̪̆͋͘h̶̙̃́̐s̸͔̜̺̉̌̄͝c̴͓͈̹̿̋a̴̘͐́͊́.

Entropic magic flared, feeling both new and familiar. Lightning aimed to rain down to scar the already barely healed battleground further. Violet-black lightning struck and struck and struck. Scorched and blackened and corrupted the earth. Electrocuted any lesser unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just barely missing Madhukar, striking anywhere but her. It didn't know why it felt both relief and frustration at lack of destruction. It didn't know which it should be feeling.

̸̡͍͋y̴̹̻̜͓̏̆ẻ̵͈̭̒̊s̷̩̰̓̌̇̚y̷̥̜̻̆́̈́e̵̬͛y̵͔̰͕̰͑̅̽̀s̸͓̈́y̸̛͖͑͗e̶̝͙̙̜͛y̵̼̦͌ş̴̮͔̱̃̑y̵̳̝͛̒̏e̸͍͚̿͘ỳ̶̹͊y̴̙͚͂͘b̶̘̲͖̎̉̏g̵͓͋̇̈s̴̭͎̔̌ḑ̴͌̐͛ͅf̷̭͛̒̈b̴̭̯̻̗͗͋͝͝ỳ̴̢͙̐̚͝e̵̜̪̦͕̔y̷̺͖͌͊̃s̶̥̟̓̒̈́y̴̪͕͙̏͊̈́͂e̷̡͂̎̽y̸̭͗s̵̝̗̈̏̿̈͜y̵̘͚̒ḙ̷̩̩̤̌͐̑ḁ̸̩̓d̴̯͓͆̇̈́̒s̶̖̤͓̅̀͘c̸͈̈̊̓y̵̻͋s̶̠̳̻̜͗̓̇ÿ̸̛͓͎ȩ̵̟̐̌̈́͜͠y̷̯͎͕̱̓̃s̷͙͕̝̉y̴̳̲̝̔̔̃͠s̶̨͕̾͋͘y̸̠̼͙̑͜e̵̢̡̨̘̓̾ḅ̸̿̈́v̶̫̱̜͖̍̒s̵̬̹̱̃̂̉s̷̨̪̼̻̋y̴͙̒̆̿̕.

Regardless, it stood. It trembled, from the force of the chaotic magic threatening to unravel. It knew something was wrong, but what. It knew, but

c̶̙͌͌h̴͉̣̀̂͋s̵͇̮͋͘ḣ̵̼͍ŝ̵͔s̷̗̕͠a̶̱͖̥͒͘h̷̥͕̘̓̇ ̶̡̅͋c̵͉͐̉ͅh̷͔̉̋͛â̵͚͖͗s̶̼̓͠o̴̪̲̽͒ ̸̻̺̼̀o̴͈̥͌̾ͅh̸͍͔͛͜h̵̺͎̿͒̐c̶̭͎̦̐s̵̨͚̋c̵͉̔̈́a̸̢̫̻̾s̷̨͉̅̎͋o̵͙̗̻̔a̸̞̓͝a̸̭̒̃͂ò̷͇̳̠̍s̸̨͍̋͌͊c̶̜̬̊̀͝ḩ̴̯̭͋͆ ̸̟̀̂ą̶̟̠̄͊͋h̶̪̹̙̕s̸̯͍͂͊ͅc̸̫̾á̸̢̫͍̀̍o̴̰̱͎͊h̴̢̩̽ḧ̴̩̺́̊ ̶̫̦͑̃h̵͕̝̆͋̑a̸̤̪̍̒̈́s̶̢̫͙͛͘̕ŝ̵͇̭́̔c̶̙̉̿ö̴͙̗̯́ǎ̸͈̰͕̉̊h̵̝̐s̶̤̄h̵̦͕̿͐̚c̵̱͔͒̑̿͜s̴̩̍̈́̎o̶͙̩̭͛̽ ̵͙̏́c̵̪̏̈́c̶̜̲̫̎͌o̷̳͇͖̅̂ ̸͕̈h̵̛͍͇́̚ ̵̼̾ă̸̦ṡ̷̢̅̉c̷͕̆̍̕ ̴͕̐̃o̵̢̮͒͂c̶͚͖͊̃͠ć̷̟a̴̛̟̯̱͋͒ở̵͔͙̦s̵̳̒̂͆ͅo̶̢͔̫͊͂h̷͖͚̉a̴̰̪̯͆̐á̸̫͜ ̴̭͔̈́h̸̨̯̼͗a̷̠̣͐c̷͓̓̉ċ̵͎̇s̴̻̬͓̆ä̵͚̭́̓̓ ̸̠͇̘̓̀̕o̸͓͋̚a̶͕̮̅͋̀͜s̷̙̘̀c̴̳̹̄̏̈́ḧ̶̡̹̳́c̶̩͙̬̅̾͘s̴̝͋̂o̵̻̭̽̑͠h̴͍̾͠h̸̬̗̿ś̵̻͉ ̶͉͂̉ȏ̶͍̜͇̌̔s̸͕̈́̐̍c̸̣̑̈́ǒ̵̮̃s̴̞̈̔̇s̶͚͍̦̍̍͑ȏ̵̗͉̜̽a̵͈͎͗́ẖ̵̅̏c̵̘̔â̴̢̰̈́o̷͇̿̀̕o̴͉̍̍s̶͙̘̍͝å̶̲̹c̷̦̺̭͂̂h̴̬̲̼̑̏a̷̛͍̒͊à̷̘̞̈́̔͜ȍ̸̗͂s̷̠̠̾c̷̭̆̽a̷̖̝̔̓̋h̴̥͌͘c̴̢̟̕ ̴̨͉̞͆̓ẖ̷͕̋ŝ̴͙̬̍̕c̸͓͓̏̈̕ǫ̵̰̆̎͝s̴͎̓ ̶͉͙̒c̶̢̲̓͝h̵̛̤̗́͠ạ̷͗͋h̸͎͆͒ͅͅa̵̫̾̕.

It was nearly overwhelmed. Consumed. All consuming chaos, visions and whispers and leaking oil. This reminded it of something. It

l̸̦̈ḻ̶̇ ̸̹̔ḽ̷͆ã̷̙ ̴̳̚ȁ̵̫ą̴̏l̴͍͊t̷͉̐t̷͔̍t̴̲̕l̸̬͆ẹ̵̒h̸͈̓r̴̛̗h̴͉̅a̵̓͜a̶̲͆t̵͛ͅa̸͚͝ṱ̷̏ṟ̴̅t̷͕̒a̷̩̿a̸̗̕ ̸̬̈́t̵͕̍t̷̪͘ ̸̨́t̴̲̃ä̸̠́ ̷̞̋l̵̢̈a̴̗̽l̴̈́ͅr̸̹̕a̸̯̎ǐ̸̩ ̷̪̚ŕ̵̨ ̵̂͜t̵̞͛h̶̼͘ ̵̡̊a̸̲͐ ̵̠̏ã̶̭t̵̥͝l̶̹͋h̷̥̿e̸̻̎a̶̞̅l̵͓͂e̴̩̔r̵̜̃a̸̤̿l̷̝̏h̶̩̚r̴̺͠a̵̹̋ă̸̤ĥ̶̜ḁ̵̊a̷̧̚e̸̞͊ ̷̰͑ḻ̶̚t̸͈͛ ̶͕͘a̷̗͘r̵̪͘e̶̩͌a̴͖͋ ̴̜̈t̶̬̓ḋ̷͔r̷̡͊a̶̠͆ ̴̥͝r̴̞̉r̴̟̋ ̵͓̑r̷̖͂r̷̥͋t̵́ͅa̴̡̅l̷͓̓å̶̞t̶̰͆ţ̴̀t̷͙͝a̸̹̾t̵̨͗ ̶͔̐.

The Altar.

̴̺̥̚r̴͚̻͐a̶̩̍ḥ̵̮̀̒̎ ̶̧̿h̷̤̥̆̈̽t̴̮̖̋̑̍a̵̞̓a̶͎̺͇͊̂͗l̷̗̗͎̐́̂é̵͉͒͝ ̵̘̓à̴͎̥l̴̠̹̂̔h̴͇͖̩̍̐͌ ̵̜̏͂̎a̷̢̎t̷̼̊̆̕ ̴̨̐̊̀ḩ̴́͘ṯ̸͚͈̆ ̵̖̎̍̆t̷̘̫̳͌̆a̶̮͙̽̓t̴̟̟͋l̶̛̝͚̼̍ ̴̳̰͑͌͝t̴͈̝̀ ̷͚͙̃͑r̶͖̖̂́̐t̵̪̪͝r̵̫͑̕r̴̨͌l̶̢̠̿͌̈ͅa̸͔̎r̷͍̗̯͂̓͂ ̶̥̓̌t̵͉̫̚r̸̟̣͊͛̀t̸͎͌̾l̴̻͓̝̈́ạ̴̘̠̏̍͘ǎ̸̱̠ä̷̬͓̘́͋è̸̳̯̊̾ ̶̬͖̺͂̐̎r̷̫̽͗͋ä̵̤̻͍́l̷̢̟̎̋͜a̶͔̟̔a̵̢̺̯͌l̶̯͌̂r̷̟͉͊̇̂ȃ̶͍̹̇͝i̶̧̟̅ͅr̸͍̱̝̾͑t̶̫̞̉̔t̷͈̬̝̀̎̾r̶̘̣̒͐̾á̸̼̅l̵̰̕ļ̷̪̏̒͘d̶̝̈́̌t̷̢̤̑̔͝r̶̜̹̳͋ḩ̷͛͂̑t̴͚̼̐̀̕a̶̻̅͠l̷̰͎͗͗l̸̟͔̎ẹ̵̤̊͋̑ṱ̸͠ä̸̭̹͉́a̷̱̿̉̾t̶̢̧͘͝ ̸̨̮̋a̸͖̤̬̓ ̴̗͝ͅh̴̻̎̊ ̸̻̺̳̌͝t̶̲̣̻̄͗͆à̷̖͌a̴͖͝a̸̺̔̿͗ ̷̠̣̞̏̏e̵̢̗͑̈́â̴̧̩̬r̸͉̅ ̵̠̞̔̌l̸̦̪̓͒̅ȩ̸͚̜̇͋ä̶̜͉̊t̶̳̼̪̃̽t̶̘͌̆̑ą̴̰͔͋̽͒
̸͖͑́ ̷.

It would help, right? It had to, right? The Altar. It had to focus on The Altar. It had to get back to The Altar. It couldn't stop thinking about The Altar, or else.

a̴a̴ ̶a̶t̴l̴r̷h̶ ̸a̴ ̵l̷ ̵a̶ ̸r̷e̸a̷r̴a̵t̴r̶ ̷a̸t̴l̷h̶ĥ̶̫ḣ̴̥a̴̢͝ ̴̭̊t̷͇͊e̴͙̚l̴͎͆r̶̙̂t̶͖̀a̶̮̋l̶̬̐l̴̠̓ ̴͉͝t̷͇̍t̸̂ͅr̶̰̾ ̸͚͊ḓ̷̄t̴͚͘è̵̯t̴̡͝ ̵̮͗ẗ̸̙́a̷̩̐l̷̓͜a̶̤̅r̶̮͑e̵̜̐ạ̷̖̜̿̿̐ ̵̧̛̰̰̚͠a̸̬͛̽ ̴͇̓̓t̸̰̟̓́a̸͚͌͂̏e̴͔͂̏͋a̷͎̿a̴̛̭̽ͅa̷̯̒l̴̪̉̊l̵̪̉ ̴̯͊͘ţ̶͎̍à̸̝͉̥ṭ̶͌̕ḫ̴̹̗̎͛͝t̶̜̉a̷̠͐͛a̶̮͈̅̉l̸̝̩̈́t̵̫̮̒̔a̶̺̯̎͘i̵̧̐͝t̷̼̂r̷͖̐͗͒ ̵̞̬̈́͛t̷̳̥́̈́ ̸͖͉̮̽͝ä̵̜́ṝ̴̩̽̚͜ŕ̶̟̽̀ ̵̜́̓̑l̷̨̫͎͑̃l̴̄̈́͜h̴̢̤̠͛̆͝h̴̦̫̋̕͠r̸͇͐r̶̝̽͗͐ͅ ̶̩̬̖͑̽ǎ̷̙͘͘á̴̖̚ṱ̵̈r̷͕̖̯̈́̏a̷̢̋h̵̰̪͂̈́t̶̃̑̚͜l̷͍̔̉á̵̛̖l̴̬͇̈̕t̶̬̹̠͐́͑ä̴̫̪̙ ̴̞̝͖́e̸͙̍̎ͅa̵̳̻̜͂̒a̵̭̥̰͘ ̴̮̹̿͜a̴̙̟̓͘ ̵͍̦̬͝i̵̲͐̄͠r̸̝̈́ẗ̶͔̦̘́̀t̵̝̟̬̉̒r̵̳̜̻̅͝l̵̲̾͝a̷͇̪͝͝͝ ̵̹͓̍̽t̶̼̪̾̀ ̶̹̒͜a̷̢̯̺͑̊̓a̸̤̮̼̎͝ā̵̧͚̍̀a̷͚̋̅̎ẗ̵͖̘̎l̵̪̉l̴̻̦͚̆͐t̴̥̥̾̊ṟ̶̃̂͝ļ̷͙͋r̸̟͊̌̑a̸̧͉͘l̶̟̳͇̽e̷̤̐ ̷̡͈͌t̶͉̉ ̵̳̯̀l̶̞̉̿t̶̙̏ä̷͔̟̭̎̐t̵̪͑̾ā̵͓̞́̎r̷̨̓̚t̷̢̲̣̽l̶̻̞̰̂̐͆ẗ̵̞͗͌t̵̹̀̆ ̶̱̻͐̾a̶̗͋̈́͊h̸̖͌t̸̖̥̭̐̚l̴̹̘̽́t̵͔͙̜̀͆̇ȁ̷̟ḛ̶̬̘̅̏̏a̵̹͎̥̋ ̴͙͕̖̈̉a̸̙̗̯͑̒h̵͍̉t̷̻̜̝̂ḁ̷̺̓̓̅ṯ̴̨̠̈́ȓ̶̦̪r̵̍͠ͅe̶͉̰͙̕d̶̻͋r̵̢̠̫̀̉ ̷̈̎ͅa̶̺̒r̷̈̉͘ͅ ̵͍̘̍́ͅḁ̸͍͘͠a̸͎̩̾̃ả̵̞̠̓̽h̶̲̞̋̃ ̴̫̂h̵̲͔͐̈́e̶̥̞̥͛̄̀ḣ̶̡̫̈́̐r̵̬̙̼̉̌̓t̴͇͎͠ ̵̫̲́a̴̢̖̓́̉ ̶̭̗́̾l̵͙͈̈́l̵̼̐̄̒ḁ̷͖̓̿ ̵̫͖̲͛r̷̢͐̀.

Madhukar's words nearly fell on deaf ears. It wasn't sure if it was even her, or if it'd just imagined the sound. Regardless, it answered. "Ne-ed home. Ssssafe." It gurgled through the oil in it's throat.

Then, it turned jerkily. It was focused, but that was all it was. The thought, the need to return to the altar. A single thought it managed to cling to through the chaotic tumult of

t̶̞̓e̸̎ͅt̵̛̳g̴̡͗n̶̦͋m̶̟͒.̴̢̄h̴̺̓ ̵̘̕,̶̛̫u̵̡͝e̵̯͘ḿ̷̖t̴̛͍ ̵͉͗The Altar ̷͍͌f̸̠͊a̴̠̐ú̷̼ḧ̵̟́ş̴̅o̸̱͌ ̶̖́t̵̥̃ ̴̰͌o̴̱̚ĺ̶̝t̷͆ͅ ̶̡͛t̸̮͐ű̴͓h̸̦͗r̸̼̊t̷̺͋k̴̹̄ ̸̞̄Altar ̸̺̂t̷̲́ ̷̳͝l̶̤̑d̶̳̊d̴͖̕ṉ̴̈́ ̵͔͐h̷̪̆ṫ̶͚e̷̖̋h̵̰͂y̵̯͆h̵͔͊h̷̲͠a̶̳͆t̷͕͂ ̴̮̚t̷̳͛ŭ̶̺ẗ̴͉́h̴̙̑ä̶̪ ̶͙̾The Altar it had ̷͍̊l̶̈́͜ȯ̸̟è̸̲š̶ͅh̷̼̚l̴͍͊ẇ̸͚ć̸̲ñ̵̞c̸̱̔õ̶̡ ̷̘̀w̴̥̍,̵̭͝t̸̻̋i̷͖̓ ̷̈́͜h̶̝̀ ̴̦̄Altar̴̠̓ų̴̃â̵̮i̶̛̖r̷̤̓ ̷̭̍ủ̸̲ŗ̷̅t̴̗͝ḙ̴͑c̴̙͑n̵̦̈́ṫ̷̩g̴̗̓ḥ̴̆.̸͙̀ ̴̹̽Altar ̴̲̑a̷͚̓è̸͖t̶̟̃s̵̲̾t̸̤͑l̵͖̾ů̷̩t̶͎́ ̸͇̽b̶̗́ ̷͜͠,̵̦̋w̴̨͑ ̶̝͝h̸͓̃l̶̩̎ ̵̧͝Altar ̶̥̑n̴̤̚ǐ̴͖l̴͉̇t̶͓͊ ̸͈̀a̵͕̓s̶͈͂ ̸̖̒a̸̘̕u̶͚͌ä̷̤́ê̶̩e̵͔̓ The Altar ̷̹̐c̴͔͒o̷͎͝ ̶̥̽i̴͖͂i̷̺̇g̶͝ͅa̷̠͐h̶͓̾ ̶͚̆e̶̖͋t̸̜̊e̵͕͘t̸̲͠ǐ̶̭ ̴͕̍t̴̜͋ ̶̡̀ã̷̗o̷̝͋ ̵̦̏f̴͠ͅo̶̯͆ò̷̭t̷͕̕n̵̞̒ ̵̨͛Altar ̸͉̅t̵̨͋á̷͙ť̸̘ū̸͍.̸̯̈́r̷̻̆e̸̺̿ ̶̮͊Altar ̵͊ͅő̸͚d̶̜̿ȑ̴̲g̵̛̗ The Altar ̴͎́r̴͕͒t̸̢̓o̷̺͝ ̸͐͜e̸̿͜ ̸͇̌e̸͉̚Altarg̸̳͒ ̵̬̅ǹ̷̥g̷̱̀ḯ̴͓t̶̡̚j̷̻̆ ̴͔̍ The Altar ̵̡̃ȉ̷̼d̶̤̆ ̸̞̽s̴͈͋.

@Madhukar (Eeeeeexit thread?)

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