”ᴡᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ sᴜᴄᴄᴇᴇᴅ. ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ. ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟsᴇ. ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ. ɪɴʜᴜᴍᴀɴ.”
A manifesto - they recall reading over the words until their mind blurred with them. Tucked deep within files stored by this vessel. Out of fear. Out of terror - the man with golden skin never wishing to forget where his brother was swept away to in the tide of justice. ( Or the sibling of a Drell woman, large eyes and deep breathing as she recites the memories of enemy bullets tearing through the green flesh and dark red blood of her people. )
These are promises of horror. In comparison, this man seems beyond warm, and beyond kind. …With…
They cannot be sure, but there is an
undertone to his song. And it sets the
teeth of their vessel on edge.
”ᴀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀssᴜᴍᴘᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴡᴇ. ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢʀᴇᴇ. ᴡɪᴛʜ ғᴀɪʟᴜʀᴇ ᴇᴀsɪʟʏ. ɴᴏʀ ᴅᴏ ᴀɴʏ ʀᴀᴄᴇ. ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ. ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ.”
His hands remain constantly moving, shifting. Part of them wonder if it is a distraction. Is he attempting to hide what and who he is? How small and strange they must be in comparison. Wavering in their stillness, little more than twitches to fingers and their neck.
There is no use in useless motions. Only foolishness.
“ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ sᴘᴇᴀᴋ. ᴏғ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ʟɪᴠᴇs? ᴏʀ ᴏғ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs? ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ғᴏɴᴅ ᴏғ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴅʀᴇʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴs. ᴀs ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ. ᴀsᴀʀɪ. ᴋʀᴏɢᴀɴ. ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴ?”
He talks to Old Gods he cannot comprehend.
In the land of Gods & Monsters, Jack Harper sold his soul. He never believed in Faust,
literature from centuries ago. He never cared for devils wrapped up in
charming ruses. Somewhere along the way, he managed to become one
himself. Civil blood stained his hands. In his fiery youth, he pulled
the trigger countless times. He laughed when he saw the light fade from
your eyes & there’d been something metaphorical about it. One life for another. One so he may live. So he would prosper from their death.
It was in the past.
❝That’s altruistic of you.❞
He shifts &
twists to make up for the wolf inside this human skin. A beast is dying
to break free. He cannot have that. So, he vows to SEIZE the day { carpe diem ! } with a ghostly smile. May all his words go up in smoke.
❝I speak of those who side with us. Who stand by Cerberus & what we fight for.❞
The
Illusive Man is as mad as Roman emperors with tainted blood in their
veins. Even Caligula would shy away from the phantom he has become.
❝My men are fond of those are complacent. I’m fond of the Golden Rule. Surely, you’re familiar.❞
He presumes too much. This beckons his demise.