[ What stretches out in front of him, is a wasteland. Not, not some nuclear fallout, ancient earth notion of the end of the world. Not something man made, where once there was good and then there was bad.
No, it is the growth of bad things over worse things, the living, over the dead. Waste. To be wasting. But, oh, how Pandora wastes things away. It takes the best, the worst, and everything else from all of the galaxy, all six fountains of human life, mingles it, chews it like a skag eats it dinner, and hurls it back up again. Bits of viscera, flesh and white, white bone left in the sun.
It is not just that Pandora takes, it is that it strips, down to the very bare of a person and twice as bloody.
She doesn't know if he's going to last very long. Statistically, and she runs them now like a minute hand on a clock, ticking over constantly, statistically, he wouldn't. There were thousands of deaths to die, and only one way to live, and judging by his past pattern of behaviour (carry the two, plus the one), it didn't look good for him.
But it never did for anyone. That had never stopped her, in her own way, from believing in each and every one of them.
It's by virtue of his enhancements, that she could appear to him. It's by his friend's money that she didn't have to limit her scope, to just a voice, some glowing eyes that watch him through his screen. No, as William wanders through the town of Scrapshot, looking for his friend, Angel - his new Guardian Angel, flickers digitally to life.
In person, she isn't that much to behold, but here, in the scope of the digital world she shimmered with her power. Wings that unfurled around her, a body made of blue digital flickering light. Inconstant, if only because of the satellites she's had to jump her mind through to reach him especially, it weakens the signal. But she stands there, all the same, letting him adjust to the shape in the distance, mirage like. ]
William, [ she calls to him, firm, direct, like she knows him. Knows him like a friend. Because she knew him as more than one. His life in front of her to be absorbed at the brush of her mind. ] It's okay, William. You're not alone. I know you're worried about your friend. But don't be scared - I promise, I'm here to help.
[ and she waits, a silence that is patient, for him to respond. ]
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ok im here and ready to die
The correct frame of mind for Pandora.
No, it is the growth of bad things over worse things, the living, over the dead. Waste. To be wasting. But, oh, how Pandora wastes things away. It takes the best, the worst, and everything else from all of the galaxy, all six fountains of human life, mingles it, chews it like a skag eats it dinner, and hurls it back up again. Bits of viscera, flesh and white, white bone left in the sun.
It is not just that Pandora takes, it is that it strips, down to the very bare of a person and twice as bloody.
She doesn't know if he's going to last very long. Statistically, and she runs them now like a minute hand on a clock, ticking over constantly, statistically, he wouldn't. There were thousands of deaths to die, and only one way to live, and judging by his past pattern of behaviour (carry the two, plus the one), it didn't look good for him.
But it never did for anyone. That had never stopped her, in her own way, from believing in each and every one of them.
It's by virtue of his enhancements, that she could appear to him. It's by his friend's money that she didn't have to limit her scope, to just a voice, some glowing eyes that watch him through his screen. No, as William wanders through the town of Scrapshot, looking for his friend, Angel - his new Guardian Angel, flickers digitally to life.
In person, she isn't that much to behold, but here, in the scope of the digital world she shimmered with her power. Wings that unfurled around her, a body made of blue digital flickering light. Inconstant, if only because of the satellites she's had to jump her mind through to reach him especially, it weakens the signal. But she stands there, all the same, letting him adjust to the shape in the distance, mirage like. ]
William, [ she calls to him, firm, direct, like she knows him. Knows him like a friend. Because she knew him as more than one. His life in front of her to be absorbed at the brush of her mind. ] It's okay, William. You're not alone. I know you're worried about your friend. But don't be scared - I promise, I'm here to help.
[ and she waits, a silence that is patient, for him to respond. ]