Light, indiscriminate, hollow.
Rays, blinding, nauseating.
Concussion, confused, in wonder.
Place, in void, in nothingness.
Counterintuitive, hypocritical statement, futher delusional.
"Child."
Voice, silk, new.
"Be not afraid, child."
Time, none, afraid.
Answers, wanting, impatient.
"You have died, child."
Life, distant, familiar.
Memories, scrambled, unrecognized.
Moment, contradictory, further in wonder.
"That is the price of death, to leave behind what you knew for room to know."
Philosophical, hate, straight.
Bushes, none, future.
"First, let me restore your fragmented soul."
Fragmented, why, how.
Tell me reason, fix my confusion.
'Who am I?'
A thought, first of it's coherency. From single words to a description, my consciousness whole and reasonable.
I am me again, but in the shallowness I linger.
The space around me, convoluted and indescribable. A simple word can't paint a picture, now words can.
So instead I focus on me. I can't see myself in darkness. I can't feel myself in senses. Just a conciseness able to think and express thoughts.
"How do you feel?"
Again, the silkiness returns. Familiarly female, but a hinting trace of male leaves me in question—
—none of which needs my attention.
Its question though is another story. To ask how I feel has instinctively left me seeking one word—
'—hollow.'
"So I see. Completely normal and within calculations."
The word 'normal' didn't strike me as the word to use in this scenario. Still… maybe normal is in different standard here.
"I have brought you here for a simple reason…"
Their statement was left hanging, as if using the silence as a way to set up the tension.
"To be entertainment."
Baffling and anger, emotions I should be feeling… but I'm not. An oddity, something I can compare to a feeling from a past I can't remember but certainly can still deeply recall. A normal reaction.
To be labeled as entertainment should be maddening. It's a downgrade, to be looked at like a toy.
Dispensable, unimportant.
Though, something in the air tells me that's shallow thinking. As if I'm overthinking it and in doing so has led me to misinterpret or misunderstand the situation.
"Not quite but close, child."
'You can read my mind, noted.'
"Think nothing of it, child. Your education and will is that of a human. Explaining these events is as close to divinity as your race calls it."
Divinity, something that should not be taken lightly.
'So… are you divine?'
"More in the lines of 'highly advanced,' child."
My question was surprisingly met with an answer.
"Astonishing…"
That didn't sound good, 'what?'
I felt a shift in the space around me. Like someone was getting comfortable in a chair.
"Your once fragmented soul, I made it whole. Your thoughts, your structured thinking. It went from single word descriptors to functional sentences. But now, as we converse, the hollowness you speak of is waning. Within it, an ego is taking shape."
'That implies?'
Another shift teases my senses. As if something just leaned over.
"That you have an exceptional soul."
That tells me nothing, 'I have no point of reference to compare.'
"Souls vary in strength. I've seen those that shatter even at the gentlest touch. Some cave in when modified even by the slightest of advancements."
Like the rumbling of tectonic plates. Considering the pattern of shifts, each one is caused by them. Which begs the question of either how large they may be or how much of a magnitude their aura carries to bring about such ripples in my senses with what I assume is them moving.
"The there are those that are unmoving. Souls that don't break even with the heaviest of modifications. As if their soul was enough and anymore changes to themselves— be it a genetic change or a symbiotic energy like mana— would be considered lowly by them. A taint that shall not ruin their perfect self."
'So, where does that leave me?'
My inquiry wasn't met with an answer right away. A heavy silence grew between us.
"That's the astonishing part: you're not strong— not in the least bit of the conventional sense."
In the darkest of night, a sudden light would render thee blind. Such a sentence was true now. Gone was the light that mingled with darkness around me. Gone was the indescribable mess that was my surroundings. Lights shifted and popped. Molded itself into points of interest and landmarks.
Trees, brown bark and green leaves: Sight.
A tingling sensation below me. Blades of grass like soft padding: Touch.
The brisk air in the genesis of it all as it settled in speed. It carried with it a flora scent: Smell.
A chirping orchestra, birds unseen beyond me: Sound.
A slimy sensation inside my mouth, one of no taste but still of familiarity. Yet the subtle scent of flora generated a trick in my mind as I tasted a subtle sweetness replacing the bland taste of saliva.
Such was the events around and in me. Where once was nothing, now there's skin. Not quite pale but certainly fair skin rid of any semblance of blemish. Smooth to the touch as I ran my fingers on my arms.
They were toned. Granted I don't know if my assessment is true, but squeezing and pinching my arm and skin held a tough resistance beneath them. As if to confirm my assessment, I saw packs on my stomach— eight total. Overall, I was toned. As close to perfect if even such a thing was achievable. But underneath it all underlined a feeling only I had a inkling of understanding: power seeped through my veins. Tone suggested strength, that which is constant and always there. But the hidden urge was like a sleeper agent, to go so far as to guess breakage of rocks if I so inclined to wish into reality.
Seeing my naked self, thoughts of clothing come to mind. The lack of commodities made me instinctively cover the region between my legs. But cupping the region I notice a lack thereof a certain member that I was subconsciously thinking I had— hence my reaction.
I looked down, daring not to uncover the region. But my fingers transferring something that I was sure there has to be. A sensation was missing. Dread was my thoughts and fear were sure to be in my eyes alongside sadness.
"Don't be sad, that is merely a temporary body I have made for you at the moment."
Whether a sudden shock or something external, my mind blanked. Worry lessened; mind focused on on something delicate caressing the side of my cheek. Fingers came into view from behind. Long nails decorated in unseen yet seen energies. Like flickering lights and fading senses. From fingers to arms, they wrap around me; extended from my shoulders until they collapsed down to my stomach in an embrace. Soft was the arms and the fingers that gently caressed my stomach undeliberately— I can tell— but softer was the thing on my back, rubbing— undeliberately.
I was... mad. Mad that the sensation was what I should be having a familiar reaction to. Mad that the dopamine that should be normal to me wasn't making itself known. Mad that I was in a situation many would kill me for— that I should be enjoying. An ascending sensation, like obtaining godhood. Mad was I now that the want and need and joy was known yet unexperienced. Like reading knowledge but experiencing it was never within reach. Never to be implemented and forever in theory.
What made it worse was that— assuming what I feel and what I see— a feminine giggle resounded above me.
—That... was deliberate.
"Even before you've agreed to anything, you're still entertaining me."
Words were silk, a dulcet voice, lush-full tone, gone was the male trace, all within close proximity to my ear as strands of healthy brown hair came into view. The shift rubbed the 'it' behind; deliberate.
"Your soul is not strong," a dangerous whisper sent a chill down my spine. One I feel they may have noticed as the embrace tightened. The 'it' on my back like squishy jelly; deliberate,
"but it holds tenacity. Even now, you're ego is almost back to full transparency. These reactions, the wants in your mind, the maddening missing dopamine that you know should be there is maddening to you because of who you are: a degenerate."
'Degenerate', a word for some reason I take pride in.
"Remember what I said? To 'leave behind what you knew for room to know—' 'the price of death?'"
I nodded, mind half focused on her floral scent, the other multitasked to her dialogue and the thing behind my back.
"That is the standard for souls. Weak ones break. Strong ones don't even fracture. But you... you're in the in between. When I put your soul back to what it was, the you in your past life should've been gone. No traces to link back to. But— while you won't have memories of who you are— your actions and habits are still who you will be. Your soul doesn't break— it bends. You're soul will hold modifications; it just needs time to adapt. You're soul may shatter and break— fade even— but never forgotten nor erased."
She shifted behind me. Her words were in the forefront of my mind. My degen' side of me hampered as my mind focused on her words and words alone, leaving me at a saddened state— just slightly— piecing the pieces together as it might have been her that has made it so. Shows just how important this piece of info she's sharing.
"And that is what I need—"
I blinked, and the sensation was gone. Trees, the smell, the sounds and touch and taste, her embrace— all gone. A sudden second of darkness like everything was back as it was. But she didn't let me linger at the thought as spheres faded in around me. With them held images— moving ones— some in armor, swords and shields, guns and arrows, gore and sex, drugs and rage, crimes and joy, all matter of possible human actions, emotions, and technological advancements and fantasies were laid out in front.
Which pops the question: why show me this?
"— See these souls? They linger and pop. Short are their durations. Human most of them, but even the ones that are none humans are too short for my liking. The years they live are comparable to fireworks. The ones that are advertised to have big explosions and fancy coloring and shapes. The advertising isn't wrong: these souls are explosive. But the climate they light up in are damming. They break at the simplest hurdle. They rely on the gifts I send them, their talents wane at my own interference. An interference they reassure me would not be a problem, a lie I know they expressed yet..."
Her voice pauses, her rhythmic breathing in search of words, "I suppose in my boredom, I gave them the benefit of doubt even if I knew they lied."
To that, my face scrunched in confusion, "Why then would you go with their shenanigans?"
Another long pause, "because I was and am human in the metaphorical sense."
Her voice tired and accepting, as if to show she means what she says.
But even so, I couldn't help but question that statement. She... human— to have these willful images before me, not a human feat. To shift the darkness and light and mold them into... what I would call a new dimension— not a human feat.
"But my actions and mannerism, weren't they not human?" her question bled through my inner reasoning. As if answering my doubts. As if able to read my mind.
Then I felt it, a shift in the air like the time when she wasn't visible to me. This time, it felt like a smile— a knowing one. That was all I need to confirm it.
"Of all the races I've had the pleasure of witnessing, humans have been the most... radical to witness. Other races such as demons were stifling and evil. Angels and gods were prideful— ironic to angels— not my cup of tea. Monsters were a mixed bag, too many to list what I don't particularly like about them. Elves, dwarfs, androids, artificial intelligence, all of them have something to bring to the table. But humans are all of them combined!"
That last bit, it was as if she squealed; like she's... fangirling...
"I love how evil they can be. How much of a dick and petty each individual human can be. Then the contrast to those that are naive I find so adorable. The varying emotional managements, their traumas, the wild stories they come up with and tropes I so find adorbs!"
I... am at a lost. The wild contrast to what she was to how she is now... what...?
"The one I love the most is this trope of the mature girl next door. Which's the more PG version of calling someone, but really their just... milfs."
I felt it, that was directed to me. As if calling out my... taste. Is that— was that— that whole thing back there— was certainly an act but... do I like milfs?
She giggled, as if finding the target of my degeneracy was entertaining to her.
"Speaking of entertainment," she budded in, "I have a proposition for you."
"Wait," I said, thinking that she may have skipped something, "before the whole 'why I am here shtick,' you were just getting around the part. The one where you were talking about actually being human but may have god-like powers."
"Ahem," she cleared her throat, "long story short: I am a human from a different dimension. That's how I originally started at least. Something something divinity vs whatever, my home get's destroyed. My soul lingered in limbo, before being contracted to some random omnipotent being— or ROB for short. Sent to a different world, did whatever they told me. Died, rinse and repeat."
My brows narrowed in confusion, "that doesn't answer my—"
But before I can voice out my inquiry,
"—After dying and then getting contracted to another random omnipotent being, my soul held on to my past habits even as they fractured and remade whole again. My 'me' then held on to traces to link the 'me' now; and in those traces held the blessing of my past contractors—"
—she interrupted with that slew of sentences.
Then it dawned on me, "Wait so then—"
"—precisely, my soul is reminiscent to yours."
The interrupted revelation brought out a whole lot of potential to what I may become. As well as to what I may be: a monstrous soul that can never truly die. But the thing that had me most was simply that: a soul that can never fade. Meaning that I may never find rest.
"Life without death holds no meaning," I blurted out. My thoughts settled into that scary theory.
A theory that may have grown its own external evidence as a gaze not my own held me in view. Not in pity, but in understanding.
"To finish it off," she continued bringing me out of my own thoughts, "those past ROBs did me dirty in so many ways. Their blessings were utter bullshit and targeting. The very first progression of power the first ROB gave me was a fucking sex system. The more snu snu I participated in the more power I gained— be it skills or otherwise. I lived in anger, fucked those out of necessity, the only solace I could have was to act of snapping the men in half after; if they were women, I shoved a 12g up them before killing them. I fucked in anger and killed in anger. After gaining enough blessing from different patrons, I hunted them. I absorbed their power. Divinity, mana, knowledge, ki, whatever platform of progression or power they held, I took and kept. Integrated it as my own. Becoming a Random Omnipotent Being my self. All of that was because I didn't mentally break. I didn't become some tag (for those in the know), I fought, schemed, and bled to be where I am now."
"And that's where I come in," I added as she slowed in dialogue, "you've done all that you can out of spite and revenged. Killed and took what you had to. Now, you want entertainment... but that's not it either."
The world around me shifted once again. This time, the visuals too changed. From the sphere to the open prairie of before. The senses were stimulated once again, but this time, my sight was graced with beauty.
Tall, a head taller by my estimations from what I could guess my height in. Brown hair, long enough to touch her shoulders. She had them styled in an edgy alt wolf cut. Her eyes stared me down. They were monolid, may be even almond shaped. But they were narrow and had this passive flair: like a cat was eyeing me. Her nose fit her face, that's that least I could say. Her face was heart shaped, skin with no blemish, tanned enough to show just the right amount of brown to compliment her lightly toned base skin. Slender, a common word to describe women, but she had enough meat to where she was curvy in all the right places. Not too much, not too little, just right— as they say.
Thankfully she presented herself fully clothed. A brown cropped leather bomber jacket that complimented her brown hair. Underneath it she wore a powder blue cropped knit top showing off a bit of her svelte stomach. Her lower half matched the brown jacket with a chocolate brown color variant of ripstop trousers. To top it off, she wore dark brown chunky tac-combat boots that ends on her mid calves. No accessory, no jewelry, but definitely fashionable.
She walked with certain stride. Not laced with pride, but with certainty. No bounce, but steady; either way, it made it all the more engaging.
"Don't talk as if you know me, child; as if you have figured me out," her voice was final, harsh enough to get the point.
She stopped at arms length, eyes on mine— unwavering.
"I need not your pity, nor remorse or compassion. I don't need you to understand me. To have a connection of fondness. I don't need a shoulder to cry on."
The corners of her lips turned up slightly, "But... maybe in due time, you can."
It felt almost affectionate. As if a trace of longing brisked past my ears in her voice. I didn't dwell on it. She said it herself: she doesn't need a friend or a lover—
"— just entertainment," she finished for me.
"So...," I let the word hang, "what kind of entertainment are you into?"
◃───────────▹
I shouldn't worry about time, but having something to gauge how long something is being done or how long I've idled doing nothing or anything keeps me focused.
Alas, even as I glance at a clock on a wall, I can't tell if I can trust it or not.
The place around me is no longer the grasslands. Neither is it the void. No spheres, too.
A house, a living room exactly. I'm chilling on a comfy red couch with the woman to my right. After the initial pretense, we were now... brain storming. Turns out, she didn't know where to begin, just that she was bored.
We were silent now, one of many moments that pass during our conversations passing out idea. It felt like a business meeting, and she's the boss. My eyes wonder, taking the moment to visually explore the room once again.
White walls, clear of dust. Nothing fancy, aside from the mentioned couch, in front of us was a wall-hanged Tv. 70 inch plasma screen Tv with Netflix. She mentioned that these existed in my past life, I didn't dwell on the feeling of familiarity. The sound of a passing show became white noise hours ago. I looked down on the coffee table. It's darker varnish was a contrast to the white cups of coffee on it. I glanced at hers and then mine. Creamy was hers, a light shade of brown. Mine: black. No additives; something about the bitter taste fit my tastebuds. A window to the right of us as I glance over, it displayed the greenery before. Then my eyes focused on hers as she turned to look at me.
"Thought of something, Numen?" she asked.
The name Numen, I don't know if that was my name then, but certainly it is now. I didn't bother asking, I quite liked it.
"Yeah, I think I have a thought," I answered.
"Then lay it on me."
"How about you become my patron?"
She looked at me like I was a dumbass, "that's why we're doing this— why I kidnapped your soul and made you whole— just so you could be my—"
"—Yes, yes— entertainment— yes I know." I interrupted her, "I mean to cast a lesser version of yourself to a world and let me act as— I don't know— your worshipper, a knight, or something along those lines."
She looked baffled, "you want me to be part of your play?"
"You're going to get bored of watching me all the time, why not dabble in the reality you'll shove me in? Not all the time but you'll at least do more than just watch. Probably why you're bored all the time, you've sat and watched the same show just reskinned."
My words may have hit their mark. I watched and noticed her eyes, gears behind them turned and grinded. Giving my words some modicum of thought.
"Never mind," I continued, "I suppose someone already shared that thought."
"No," she quietly stated, "I mean, yes— someone did have that Idea, but they wanted my full presence instead. You on the other hand only mentioned a small part of me to be present. Even then, sounds like you want me to be some distant being that's there and everyone is aware off but never truly known. I can work with that."
She leaned back, hands stretched above her head, "Ngh— besides, you're right that only watching does get boring. I do wish that I could poke a finger or two. Ok, we have the base of my entertainment. Let's keep the momentum."
I already have something in mind, "Good, what do you think about being a Chaos god in 40k?"
Her head snapped, eyes on me with burning fire that almost replaced her hazel eyes. She this look of concern, doubt, surprised, relief, and excitement all rolled into one.
As for myself, I shouldn't have any memories of my past. No content to go off of. But this I faintly remember. Is this one of those bullshit moments just to get a plot going?
"Of all the souls I've mingled with, you're the first to make me cream."
I raised an eyebrow as she elongated that sentence into a low sensual groan.
"I've sent people there, most of them gacha related as they rolled for the world they wanted to dive in. None wanted to willingly go. Those that got it complained and begged. I cared not and sent them away anyway. All died by suicide. A laz shot to the face, bolter sometimes. Some just charged into battle with reckless abandon."
"I never truly got to witness the world for more than 30 seconds."
"I knew I liked ya."
A quick reach for her coffee, she downed it in seconds with a satisfied sigh. With a snap of her finger, my world view changed. Circuitry and holograms. Servers and digital aspects and computers. The room changed to this cyberpunk-esque aesthetic. I no longer had a human body, just a spark in a jar in the middle of the room. Then she appeared, same clothes, same eyes, just now a giant as large as a planet. System panels all converged her attention.
"You and I will have a long time of fun... maybe you'll even grow to be fond of me again," she said.
'Sorry, I didn't catch that last part,' I asked with my mind, thoughts transmitted to her.
She coughed clearly ignoring me, "First off, where and when shall I drop ya?"
I let it be as I can't do anything about it besides stir in curiosity, 'I don't know much about the world, when and where does it interest you most?'
"Hehe, I know just the place and time. Now for the next question: how would you like your power to be represented?"
'You're going to have to just roll random on everything.'
"Right no memories so you don't even know where to begin. Ok, should I just send you forth, leave everything up to surprise?"
'Sure.'
Her hands tapped on multiple floating panels, behind her eyes held excitement, the kind children bore when they find something new and entertaining.
'Adorable,' I thought.
As I relaxed and waited for her to finished, I didn't notice the micro second flinch as her index finger missed a prompt. She quickly undid what she had to and focused up again. It didn't take long after as she smiled to get my attention. No words, just a thumbs up and a bright light. It blinded me, shielding my eyes to an unknown blush that crept to the woman's face.
"The name is Evelyn by the way," I heard through the light veil.
For some reason the atmosphere turned cozy, but that was the last of my thoughts as my vision changed and hell was upon me.