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?)