All possible outcomes are predicted, along with permutations to follow at this enticement.
(“Male”: achieving or failing, two possibilities when faced with “object of desire”.)
And so the tool waits.
For the enticement shall shortly provoke a response, like with Falke…
Yet, a response does not come.
Eternal inaction only.
This allowed intruder merely stands at the place of arrival, a sleepy look persisting. Glancing around slowly, taking in the glory of Luna without a single emotion registering.
(An entity called Adris will not act. Unexpected this outcome. Be this… some subversion…?)
The orderly nature of Luna’s domicile declares that “time be removed” from the process awaiting result.
“Success” or “failure”, “progression” or “regression”, a duality predicted by a tool succumbs to no action taken at all.
(P r o g r e s s: provide stimulus.)
Thus, a tool tilts its head to signal a need to change.
When that is insufficient, the tool raises its hand to wave once.
But all the entity does is register the tool again and stare.
Languidly.
(Be… this entity… disappointed!?)
No entity, no matter how distant from origination from this locus, could possibly reveal dissatisfaction at such an introduction and the rare sights offered.
Especially this one, who favors rarities as much as the tool.
(Lacking commonality between entity, locus, and this tool, perhaps? Inefficient, this tool finds social engagement! As host, duties abound, however.)
Without the guest to provoke the next action…
(P r o g r e s s: motivate entity toward revealing interaction that clarifies entity’s primary romantic motivations and guiding self-archetype.
Entity, “Adris”, interest in Zennia/Xin, a possible commonality, recalled. Conversation record: Gecko/Adris, “origination of tea ceremony, other practicioners”?
R e p l a y…)
“Elves are the only race that favor tea?”
“Hmm!? No? It’s… more that tea is thought by many to be unsatisfying if it doesn’t have ‘a kick’! The humans have a root they brew everywhere, the misguided dwarves say ‘nothing without a bite is worth biting into’, and… well, I suppose there was a tribe of man that loved tea out in the Golden Sands? But, there’s was more ‘of the deep earth’ and kinda weird, like they were…?”
Spoken of inarticulately is this ancient tribe that shrouds against the sun. Under-sand-dwelling subhumans as they are, even at night Pothos’ pale reflection can singe them.
Traveler’s radiance alone spares them. Enraptured their gazes long ago when all others brought harm.
They grasped the fundamentals of Luna’s engineering through innate clairvoyance. Luna had finally favored this civilization’s dutiful study of Traveler once their megastructures raised to replicate its surface. Forever safe from light within their kingdom, they had grown enlightened by a gift joining heavens and below…
(Civilization: “Ur’Shaia”, Artifact: “Chalice of the Violet One”, Location Number: 0eaa9c1557f71d0ceff6c81f7455f00b.)
The perfect conversation piece comes to mind in less than a second of searching the tool’s vast memories. And then before this object the tool is instantly left standing upon a summoned platform far up high.
A thin orange containment prism separates inside from out, it along with the thousands of others on this upper tier of the Oracle room’s storage rungs circling the mighty throne.
Twinkling stars circling the true night sky ruler.
(Near-infinite unique objects of pseudo-Art, locked in stasis.)
This one is a chalice a third as tall as the tool, its vessel made of violet polished Lunascale transformed from its once-eternal purity into a physical anchor to bridge the distance to Traveler by untethered consciousness.
Into the sleek chalice that gathers Luna’s radiation a tea made of a flower that grows only in the dark was once poured. A Creator, when so inclined, could measure the minisculity of lesser existences by sympathy of dream, granting in return a touch of a greater existence before waking.
(Superior in all ways a forthcoming demonstration be to a newt’s own. Settling hierarchy of competency forever shall this!)
With much pride, the tool turns from the containment prism to judge an entity’s current conviction as seen through its transparent standing platform.
(A necessary baseline to establish, “would a ‘false god’ respond maliciously to a provably most superior team—?
E r r o r: distance, height, manifested to an extreme degree.)
An entity shaped like a boy, looking back with his face pale, is a mere speck upon the…
(—mate, which be this tool!?)
Ground.
Distant ground.
Eternally separated ground,
Gravity,
Acceleration,
Impact,
Danger. Danger!
Sensory perception turned up to the maximum tolerances folds back on the tool, paralyzing it even as the floor flies closer.
(The ground, the ground, coming toward…!
E r r o r+: “replay function” failure, forced playback—)
The vast will that sweeps through is most welcome.
Expected. Natural.
Yet, this time deviates in impression as the chamber alters to accept its sum reason for existing. A crystallization of monumental power comes with… a rush.
Up from a tool’s place of repose, it rises to offer its rote, unchanging greeting via standardized mental emissions.
“W e l c o m e: Creator.
Standing ready a tool does to interpret Art…”
It can only blink in ignorance as Luna’s own shining magnificence, foremost a perfect tubular appendage of length so expressive and beautiful that even this mirrored world idolizes it, finalizes around the tool to touch it for the first time ever.
And lifts it from the ground.
“… a-a-and all that accompanies it…!
To review its permutations and functio—?”
And then the only scenery ever experienced is stolen by transition.
The appendage of a mighty creator pops the tool into blackness, leaving the top of the Oracle chamber seen from outside as the tool floats.
A tool has only ever seen this cold space, held above the great monolithic city-surface of Traveler, comfortably from behind glass.
That city, its multitudinous towers and the powers contained within, appears warped. Lines of construction strained.
“… to assist a Creator in arriving at the per—
Creator, perhaps, something within the vacuum nearby or the other repositories…?”
And then a glorious Creator which entwines and dwarfs the Oracle chamber’s fractal shape, this being’s exterior pulsing with intent that strains the exoskeletal scaling constituting its mighty blazing form, holds so many different locations of Traveler captured by its fiery eyes filled with once-harmonious intellect.
Then all eyes lock on the tool for the first time, too, causing it to disgracefully flinch when its sentience fluctuates from this impact.
“… r-r-r-r-required a tool be, to
INTERPRE-EEEEEE!?”
Hurtled the tool is, on a path that will intersect the blue and green star in the distance, the suffocating orange of an enveloping containment field depriving a tool of its connection to locus…!
“Neesiette!”
“… Adris.”
Instead of the truly handsome visage of a sloping face with affine transformative features, all those sleek sensory scales that flow into a smooth cone, instead there is…
(R e t r y: successful, processes mini—mally recovered-d-d.
E r r o r: height still exceeds modified tolerances for this tool.)
“Don’t move.”
“A-Adris…”
“Don’t backtalk!”
Into this disagreeable, boastful man’s grasp a tool has been swept, then forcibly restrained.
(Inele—gant t-t-touch…)
So that busy hands can firmly squeeze a tool’s buttocks, while the other shifts at its back.
Very possessively, a tool even notices, with the way the man searches the tool for any damages.
Until… the hand at the buttocks curves between thighs aggressively. Scooping inward!
(E v a l u a t e: vex—atious attitude, tho—ugh, force of character, su—p-p-p-perb, attraction in—increasing exponentially, g-goo-od-d physicality.
E r r o r: height still exceeds modified tolerances for this tool, failure imminent.)
Despite this attack, his face is still grossly pale.
“How… to go down…?”
Having accomplished the transition once, an entity probably only fools with the tool to provoke more processing errors, more time to grope.
Yet, a tool manages to whisper…
“Point A, to Point B, distance, shortest: remove distance. Not existing, resolve internally as such, so it shall be transformed, Luna’s will.
Return… return this tool… and cease ungentlemanly conduct…”
The strong entity gives one last squeeze of a buttocks, looking then toward the distant throne settled into the floor below.
“… Ah, so it works like that…”
Without great fanfare, both return to their original arrival spots at the simplest desire to be there.
(E r r o r: not an error, no errors recorded, no failure recorded.
C a l c u l a t e: behavior of a tool, a plot, “closeness achieved”, prodding toward resolving “nature of personal archetype”.)
“… Lewdly hungering for an appealing body, one’s supremely libertine nature took advantage of a feigned distress. Caught ‘red-handed’, correct?”
At the tool’s boasting, the entity only nods slowly.
“I… well, you seemed in distress, but… it relieves me to hold you, I guess that’s true…”
“Forthright admission be commendable, if behavior not so. Now, from one’s arms deliver a tool to the firmament.”
Set beside, a guest idly waits as the tool intentionally collapses with its arms around its pulled-in knees.
Only to suppress more false errors, this position be exceptional for it.
(E v a l u a t e: molesting a “lady” in feigned distress, minus 25 points; seeking to aid a “lady” in feigned distress, plus 20 points, 41 points current.
A f f i r m a t i o n: Adris fehl Dain, the ‘boy’ exposed to many various allures, but the ‘emperor’ living the unobstructed life of a rakish claimer, matching the recorded personal investigations of an intrusive witch and the insipid ramblings of a strutting gecko this does.)
One objective is completed. With the archetype determined, a testing of the entity’s individual motivations is next.
Now, both require time to align their—
“… That chalice felt…?”
Staring back at the containment prism, finally this man speaks of his own volition.
(E v a l u a t e: a potential avenue, commonality of knowledge.
P r o g r e s s: develop conversation toward entity in comparison to Luna.)
“Always cognizant of sources of authority and power, a false god consistently remains.” Though he spoke before, the lethargy endures with only a nod received by the tool. “Like the many magical items held by the one before this tool, all unique those above be. ‘Singularity beyond replication’, understand concept and how it relates to them?”
A blank stare is his response, before he closes his eyes and shakes his head negatively. More tired than impressed.
(Interest or disinterest, adopt one, not both!)
A Lunamaton intrudes to pull on his arm, revealing a foreign tool made of copper and brass tubes that produces fog without aid of magic.
“Wearing what deserves a place within Luna’s repository, always has one. Cross, quill, and arm-device, bearing three such wonders a single entity does in violation of probabilities.”
When again he does not respond, except to hold up his arm to view the item more closely himself…
“Pride or disinterest, explains one’s dissatisfaction and silence with such a positive assessment!?”
“… Do you really value… this enough to call it unique?”
Appearing to concentrate, the entity then looms closer so that the perfectly-made tool below it is all that is within its view.
(Q u e r y: be this sarcasm, or insanity?
Interest… growing, however! Direct not aggression toward this tool.)
“Dismissive, one appears.”
“Despite blinding things up there and around me, this is more…?”
“Ranked so lowly, the unbiased assessment of a perfectly made tool? Once recognizing inferiority, now instead one feels…? Pat not this tool’s head!”
And this is the insult given, for the entity grins while continuing this mussing attack.
(Rake, and also ingrate!)
Infinite negative points will shortly apply, and then expulsion from…!
“You desire this, is it?”
(No such thing as “greed” holds a tool!)
But it can’t be spoken so plainly, else historical events predict that a false god would claim those words as evidence of greed.
Especially since a tool has captured this object, re-recording all of its statistics in full.
“To preserve uniqueness, an attractive quality beyond all others, this only a tool wishes as preservation of such a treasure as one mockingly showcases!”
Such a facial show of incredulity, despite the mask, is clearly naked shock when the entity rears back.
“Think not one’s device more special than others, however, for all be equally deserving preservation!”
Then the shock transforms into a meek grin.
“… Huh, a treasure…? To finally meet someone that wants…?”
In this moment of strange mirth that grips him, the man reaches to unstrap his tool and then kneels.
“And calls what I made…?”
Unsure of this, the tool cups its hands just fast enough for the treasure to be dropped into them.
Clutched then to its breasts. Stroked once.
“Where I… rule… a custom exists for giving house gifts… ones that the Ascended above would approve of for being astounding.” So blank the entity appears when explaining, as though this act of parting with a treasure provokes no discomfort. “Oh, Ascended beings… are like your Creator and I? I made this, though it’s a much lesser example of my true power…”
Then he stands, stepping away with arms crossed, looking distant.
“… As all-wealthy as I am there, if a foreign lady catches eye of some trinket I carried along on a whim, I suppose… well, my heart compels me to show favo—?”
“Cannot be accepted.”
“Buh!?”
“Such a gift… be…”
All processes disjoint, for a possible permutation so unlikely presents.
(R e – c a l c u l a t e: “rakish bestower” he be, the most complicated form!
A p p r e h e n s i o n: a libertine whose self-worth be determined primarily by an image of generous spirit, a willful and complicated romantic conquest he finalizes as!)
But, such onerous, possessive goodwill cannot be accepted, no matter the hazard of refusing such an archetype, for, for…!
The man leans forward with twitching lips trying not to snarl.
“… Why?”
(How needlessly, wonderfully complex this “emperor” be! Very particular, this refusal becomes…!)
“Be not angry.”
“Learning I made it, suddenly it’s not worthy…?”
(Q u e r y: why would that make it less worthy!?)
“There… many reasons exist besides dislike for this.”
“Name one! My sincerity, wasn’t it this you challenged…?”
A flash of rage, the consummate reaction of a rake enraged when denied so pointedly, his naked soul stabbed!
(A p p r e h e n s i o n: next comes escalation of avaricious assault, for a rake settles word with deed!
Explanation proves insufficient, but “it be a law of this world” explains little!)
To add anything to a perfect memory is impossible.
Even a “guest” must eventually depart, so as for all things to equalize and return to eternal.
Therefore, a “gift” may not remain, even if a tool wishes to crush the device into itself rather than return it to a man whose eyes flash with annoyance.
For, all of the registered containment prisms are in use.
Only these are changing within the eternal memory, even though none have changed contents since…
(Ah. A way out. And forward. Exchange.)
“… Above again, accompany this tool, briefly.”
“Insult my sincerity, then give orders!?”
“Holding very tightly, a solution, show of approval one seeks, accept this, please.”
Still simmering, the entity ceases when the tool points toward a distant orange encasement of energy.
—
—
“A deferment to Luna’s majesty one’s contribution be, therefore…”
Onto his arm the tool clasps the exchanged golden item.
“Accepting this be required in turn.”
Matching this entity perfectly, the inwardly faced facets of a mirrored amethyst circlet reflect multiples of his flat face when he spins it on his arm to inspect how it fits.
At the center of the facets’ draw, a core of blackness resides within purple.
(E v a l u a t e: plus 30 points, donating to mighty Luna, 71 points current.)
“… My bracer and boots. Kin with this.”
“Indeed? Clarify!”
“‘Vanishing from here’ is its wish deep inside…?”
A tool can only ponder another’s greater insight; for, when to Luna, a tool could only specify that it “is a look at what is not”.
(A f f i r m a t i o n: an entity’s capabilities to investigate pseudo-Art represent the highest grade.)
“From Zennia’s First Age, an oracular device, an object internally cataloged as: [dark].”
“Fortune-telling? No… similar idea, but it doesn’t…? Haaah, you’re tiring me…”
Hand over his eyes, the entity sighs and sits down.
Though appearing not unhappy with his new prize, for he rubs its gem before scraping it with a fingernail to test its hardness.
(If comprehending, then speak of its true purpose! Minus 6 points, intentional vexation of a tool, 65 points current!)
But he only lapses back into total silence once more.
(How strange.)
But no longer strange is the impression this entity gives.
Wearing an artifact of Luna… that impression is far more…
(Fitting not a lesser Creator to seat upon the floor.)
Away from him the tool turns to regard a more worthy spot.
An intent fills the tool to test…
“You dare to leave me!?”
The entity’s clutches upon the tool yank it toward him.
Rather than anger, the expression that has paled once more…
(E v a l u a t e: proximity of this tool… favorable to mental calmness?)
A f f i r m a t i o n: ah, true, when confronting the Grand Distortion within the Castillo, this helplessness felt similar, a time when by him a tool was found needed.)
When the tool no longer attempts to part, Adris sighs once and then appears to meditate.
“… No, rather… I don’t need other things.”
This is all he says before lapsing into his fugue again, shutting his eyes to the world.
(Ah… like the witch, too much, perhaps? Also suffering physiological distress, Kol did. Yet, the newt distinguished with no…?
Understandable, a non-sentient creature be exempted from stresses.)
And so, a generous tool turns with the docile entity to stare at…
(Lacking, unworthy, the entity be found for this place. Minus 10 points, 55 points current.)
Fullest sight of the mighty throne is witnessed when they appear at its broad base. Finally, the entity shows particular interest in the many contours and curves of the grand seat of a Creator.
“… How many limbs… does Luna have…?”
“One’s question be too non-specific for Luna’s physiology. ‘Enough appendages to accomplish all desired tasks’, be appropriate to answer?”
Upon a Lunascale throne of much smaller size a boy is led. Without objection, he slumps into it while averting his eyes still.
Arms resting on its hands, this entity instantly adopts a show of only contempt for the grandeur surrounding it.
Pensive and moody, it leans back into the throne without prodding.
Capturing this sight forever, memorializing it as this place has been, a tool nods three times to mark each step in thought.
(Belonging to another, a mighty seat below the mightiest… yet, “irreverent” an entity regards such esteem as to reside here.
“Beneath notice” this experience, but thoroughly… “belonging” without expending the energy to reach this state.
“Comfortable”, appearing so, a pleasant observation, strangely?)
After this…
There is the completely novel experience of using legs to ascend to one’s private place.
Of feeling conflicting thoughts as the experience is far different.
“… Hoh?”
Reaching its seat, taken up by legs now instead, a tool settles onto what little fat exists. Though experiencing discomfort never, there is an elegant symmetry needed to be maintained for personal approval.
Smoothing out a steel-blue dress over the legs, so that movement need not take place after, a tool squirms around to reach true “center”.
And then leans into the new “back” of a throne.
(E v a l u a t e: granting a little more height, a tool discovers, also a… “mingling feeling”?)
Normally resting lightly on the arms of the personal throne, a tool uses another’s arms as rests instead. Claiming a body as its rest.
(C a l c u l a t e: all controls still maintained within reach, a fine outcome, somehow more “relaxing”.)
Here the tool rests, thinking of how to best discover Adris’ romantic priorities and drives. Enjoying the added height, lamenting that a thicker cushion was never considered back then.
“… Throne of Creator, at the base thereof rests the favored tool of this Oracle chamber. Comfortable… find it?”
The entity lazily nods at the explanation for where he sits, refusing to add his thoughts back.
“Aiding in determining truth of Art, here… forever and always, rested this tool. Ever ready to aid, as a tool should fulfill such purpose.”
When there is still no response…
A tool presses a round knob set into the armrest, transmitting the radiation signal which propagates.
“Huh!?”
Finally the entity wakes up when the slothful amber stream above circling the throne swiftly slides downward. It crosses in front of the smaller white throne, widening and flattening perpendicular to them.
“Contained within preserving medium, all knowledge gathered by Luna resolving the nature of [Art]. Inefficient in comparison be manuscripts and books, for the vast knowledge of Luna needs interpreting at speeds greatly superior to the second it takes to read a page. Behold, this stream contains the equivalent of five hundred pages per—!
Averting one’s eyes and paling, why does one? One’s muscles constrict too violently.”
Though a false god ever seeks knowledge, this entity turns away from such a trove when presented, the greatest possible gift in the entire universe!?
“… Too fragile, this vessel…
My great mind comprehends, kuh, but it… damages the boy’s, so to protect him I…”
A slap of the tool’s hand banishes the stream, then the tool squirms around to apply extrasensory perception its temporal lobe.
“… Apologies. Vascular and arterial systems stresses? Endocrinal and adrenal functions, all significantly increased. Understood, harm occurring… th-then…!”
Using a knob never before utilized, the tool grasps a single thread of the mighty stream and banishes the rest back to circle above.
“One processing stream, attempting to interpret this one…?”
The tool pulls on the cringing entity’s arm to free sight, freeing after a coaxing rub.
(Ten pages a second must surely be possible.)
Only a single red eye between widened fingers tries to interpret this flow; but, even this attempt ends with blood vessels of the eye inflamed and it shaking with a dilated pupil.
“… Humans… are… simply too inferior… to those like u—ugh…!”
“Calm, calm oneself! Desist attempt, the stream be sent away.”
(Q u e r y: consoling, rubbing a mighty entity’s head, within this Oracle chamber?
Be this suitor, this obsessive rake, so… weakened by merely existing here?)
Yet, the entity does appear less sickened when the tool’s hands rub lightly on his temples. Sweat that gathers on his brow is cleared away.
When the convulsing stops, the tool turns back to resume staring out.
(… Achieved… what, this has? Only weakening the entity further? Projecting across dimensions, multiple interferences reduce it to this state, be this the truth…?)
But the tool jolts when arms creep around its torso. Strength flows through them.
(Ah, personal touch it seeks, growing stronger upon receiving.)
“… Huh, there’s simply no alternative.” Rather than ignore the tool, its seat closes in when unprompted. “I’ll have to hear Luna’s wisdom in your matchless voice. With its beauty filling my mind instead, there’s no possible loss of efficiency, Neesiette.”
(A f f i r m a t i o n: achievable and logical, this be, also comforting the entity and drawing it closer to this tool emotionally so as to…
A p p r e h e n s i o n: narrate, rather than aid in interpretation, a tool shall, what be this absurdity!?)
The tool discovers mixed feelings, especially when an entity asserts its physical hold by leaning to whisper.
A common temptation of this entity, directed at other females…
“Understanding this curse you’ve inflicted on me, only you can teach me this topic…”
“… Topic, which one identified, sought?”
A standard “enticement” is how the entity starts, appealing to—
“Eros… carnality, love, however you call it, all succumbed to me easily on Xin and found pure love with me. But, here, the opposite, perhaps…? What if instead, I…?”
“Indeed, one’s intellect be mighty. Possible it be, the nature of one’s illness.”
“Hah, how strange the heavens are! Then… on Zennia, outside of what I’ve seen in the Alchemaster’s hell, how does it work for these low humans?”
(Q u e r y: one seeks elucidation about romance?)
“There’s be, often, simple. Consisting of forming societal ties, payment of Devotion for breeding rights and actions, this coincides with a strict abhorring of carnal pursuits for the sake of mutual romantic exploration.”
“Always?”
Such an unprecedented topic within this Oracle chamber is the purported subject?
Sought from Luna’s direct wisdom of it…?
“No. Past, present, and likely future, many seek… deeper romance. A purer attraction and broader fulfillment.”
“Someone else received wonderful tutelage from you on that, Neesiette, so If it’s you teaching this emperor a ‘purer attraction’, then…?”
And so questions the obvious capacity of a tool, one hand errantly stroking through a its hair.
Improper such behavior, but understandable given proximity and topic. And also a growing dependency upon this tool.
(E v a l u a t e: seeking knowledge from a superior source, disregarding other inefficient avenues and disreputable instructors, plus 10 points, 65 points current.
A tool exists to aid others.)
The amber stream knob is tweaked, instructions for a search given.
Though few exist in the infinite archive, all of these queued sources are hand-picked and exemplify the core of the mystique of eros as researched.
(The “link”, one of many mutating from basis of pure Art that descended into a multitude of different disciplines, “eros” be one subject that the Creator lingered not often on; yet, this tool found it to be… often relevant…)
Especially to this thing called “witchcraft” which twists love and hate into potent forces.
(A f f i r m a t i o n: distributing wisdom to defeat “a witch”, this be encouraged!)
“T-Then, fullest discretion given to this tool, pay attention to narration. ‘Patience and fulfilling another’s wants’, these virtues of a gentleman be the lesson at hand.”
“Why worry when I am master of those two virtues?”
“… That be one opinion.”
Unsure of what tone to use, a tool chooses the manner that it has always spoken in.
“Book one of one-hundred-and-forty-nine: title, ‘The Sacrifice’; subtitle, ‘Love for Empire or a Single Rose’; period, ‘First Era, Tiberian Empire’; author, ‘Unknown’.”
This earns a relaxation of the entity’s anxiety, for it seems this voice is one that always grabs its attention when they are together.
Even a tool has noticed something so beneath notice.
“Synopsis: ‘a rose lasts only a moment; but, can its beauty, the horror of petals turning black with sunny days ending, also conclude this eternal empire? …’”
Unlike the entity, a tool finds no purpose in dramatic movements to punctuate ideas.
It merely launches itself into the narrative, allowing it and the entity to be judged on their own merits.
And so, this entity listens.
Seeing nothing around it, hearing only the tool’s lesson.
Interpreted as such, a tool can comprehend how he has adjusted his own senses through the unknown self-control of bodily functions he maintains.
“‘Upon her nape, a thousand kisses planted, ea—’
… Many… kisses have already been given, one must agree; cease, Adris, therefo—”
“I can’t experience their ‘love’ unless I match as many times as you say it happens.”
So the entity whimsically asserts, eyes still shut tight, as he pushes the tool forward to deliver to its neck one more.
For what would be hours anywhere else but within eternity’s embrace, a tool has another solely to itself. Each chapter progresses from times of plenty without love and only duty, onward to times of loss and war and suffering, where duty toward many fades away.
(Heated, this subject becomes, and overt, an entity’s explorations! Heed unspoken advice…!)
It’s not “duty” that motivates the tool’s listener, but something more fundamental driving it to pull on a dress.
The story’s promise of an eternal empire worthy of dedicating a soul to the grave, if need be, transforms unnoticed into service toward the wisp of a female noble whose health fades with barbarians closing in, but whose fiery heart never perishes to cinders.
For she promised herself to the general who turns his back on duty to dedicate in return to…
“… ‘each one a reaffirmation, for while he held prior in stoic silence to only duty, now this has changed by her fragile allure into…’
One’s touches upon this tool’s frontside, made often with increasing focus upon a tool’s breasts, be these not asynchronous to events as described, and therefore not counting as ‘sharing experience’?”
“From earlier chapters, Antonius favored touching here by mistake.”
“Claiming, one does, these touches to be ‘mistakes’?
‘… into a burning passion that threatens the flower’s safety when pressed so firmly upon a bed meant only for one of them, the lifeblood of its blossom threatening to leak…’”
(Sincerity escalates in likelihood, but such an entity be outrageously manipulative historically. To be misled once more be disallowed before all other outcomes.)
And so, the narration continues. The strangest interpretation of Luna’s knowledge being carried out.
One that includes a live demonstration of every technique and touch spoken of, teaching something useful to both foreigners.
But, only truly at the pace of one in particular!
“What a beautiful lady she sounds like, I’m very fascinated…”
“Speaks this one does into the neck of a tool, implying a different fascination.”
(A f f i r m a t i o n: as described by both a brash girl and a lustful lizard and a cagey witch, “his own pace” one named Adris proceeds at always, disregarding all “hints” to slow, adopting instead…!)
No clothing is removed, but this entity’s world consists solely of the tool held within its clutches.
Hands ever roaming when thinking to try an idea, from measuring the tightness between the tool’s fingers with his own held fast, to drawing the tool firmer to his chest and letting his faster heartbeat be felt by the tool’s deepest sensory instruments, there is only a private satisfaction of desires that seem aimed at drawing in the tool no matter the consequences.
“… ‘a taste so sublime, so rare and quick-fading and singular, upon his lips he savors this flavor, mo-moaning…’
Cease slurping, indelicate it be!”
Upon a tool’s neck gathers saliva, a violation of its primary purpose, for a tool is not food! A tongue slurping out onto exposed skin is a very aggressive assailant!
“… You do have a unique taste, you know?”
“‘A unique taste’, clarify, quantify and qualify, such an assignment of dubious nature!”
“Ah, you stopped narrating again.”
“Apologies, this tool shall…
Immediately demand the same explanation!”
Losing its place within the amber stream, a “tasted tool” slaps another’s hand to keep it from the tool’s thigh.
“How to compare…?”
“Compare, quickly, provide common frame of reference!”
(A p p r e h e n s i o n: unable to interpret “taste/flavor”, knowing this impossible for a tool, asserting a quality about this tool “unknown” bu—!)
“Ho, surprisingly easy… I once chanced upon a tunnel piercing the side of a floating island. There, the raw depths were exposed, glimmering crystals within that tasted of the sweetest salt. So, too…”
One last time, he licks, before letting the tool sink against his chest.
“The smell when you crushed them, I’d seen in my mind then…”
“Smell!? Marked by an odor, a tool, though clearly inorganic and non-living?”
“… It was all bubbly warmth in the mansion. Walls spill out wine there, but, still, you absolutely had your own scent, even then. Some distant place I’ve never been is what I dream of, it’s the same as that tunnel of soft crystals…”
(A p p r e h e n s i o n+: an intrinsic component of a tool, not discernible by the tool using limited sensory inputs!? “Salty”, a tool apparently exudes this quality!?
One speaks of a crystallized sodium formation, or some other natural salt! Qualify it further, arriving at a description nobler than “salty”!)
But the entity will not, lapsing into silence, even though hands once again roam until lightly slapped away.
(Obscene! Inarticulate…! Minus 10 points, 55 points current!)
A growing lack of symmetry in the tool’s seat upon this boy’s lap also throws off further speculation.
“Disrespectful and disinterested one be, interrupting a story one sought. Using a tool’s own voice for the purpose of explaining ‘correct romance’.”
“I promise that I’ve not missed a single word you’ve spoken…”
“Then irreverent one proves, missing the point of the lesson!”
Again the tool must shift, the seat now pushing up against its bottom. No longer level, affording no correct purchase!
(E v a l u a t e: manifestation, hardness, placing consistent with…!)
“I can’t learn anything from these two people, Neesiette! Their story isn’t one that can drive out what I’m obsessing over…”
“Yet, one’s body betrays current mood easily, a story of ‘romance’ translating to pure arousal!”
(C a l c u l a t e: “sympathetic arousal”, treating the story as “pornographic”, the only possible explanation for the “weapon” of this boy to grow turgid.
Not unexpected, not prohibited, however…!)
Such a thing as being used for “demonstrations” of sexuality is not within the skill set or purpose of a tool.
Especially not as a proxy for lusts felt for anoth—!
“The story is… meaningless to how I feel!”
“‘Meaningless’, one calls a supreme work archived by Luna!?”
“No!” He hisses this at the tool, his mood dark, yet the constrained phallus beneath a tool only hardening further.
(A strange duality!)
“Or rather… yes!”
“Yes!?”
“I can’t restrain what I’m feeling anymore, since you’ve seen through me…!”
Rather than stay troubled, the entity becomes frenzied!
One arm wraps under the tool’s own arms to lift it from his lap.
“A-A-Absurd, desist…!”
“Hooh!”
And then he so indelicately reaches within the tool’s dress through the swept front!
Left weightless and pushed into him, the tool can only stare as the entity’s hand taps on his own pants.
In response releases a hardness inflamed as its owner that tents the tool’s dress!
(R e – e v a l u a t e: deprived, obscene, vicious, and hungry!)
This tent wobbles for a second as the entity adjusts his seating to let it remain unmolested as much as possible.
And then…
“It’s incredibly difficult to listen to a story when I’m left like this by the narrator. But, I’m trying…”
“In-Indeed? Wait, ‘narrator’, claims one, responsible for…?”
“Hah… it’s not like a gentleman to do this, but now…”
And then down the entity lets the tool slide back into its seat.
“Ahh, and… now I can manage.”
A tool is braced against a saber sheathed by its steel-blue dress. Completely reticent to continue, if having to face this threat alone.
“… A story… provoking this response?”
“Truthfully…?”
Relieved of this hidden torment, the entity leaves his arm wrapped around the tool. Not imprisoning, merely sharing touch.
“Not in the least. This story is boring for me, for I’ve lived something similar.”
“… Boring… one says…?”
(Absurd. This work, a true classic! One’s tastes… be…!)
“This story, the blinding things around me, they’re all hindrances!”
The tool’s motions freeze.
“… Hindrance, a tool’s place of belonging be?”
Amber information flows remain stopped at the point of reading, and shall remain, for this wonderful tale is besmirched.
(Only lewd… only desiring… absent “romance” one be, in truth…?)
“Ah, of course it is! I understand its worth to you, but I’m just… lost here, losing a chance to experience…!”
“Release this tool!”
Both arms wrap around now, a paradoxical action with how obstinate the man’s words grow toward the tool.
“Sexual antagonism increases, unwelcoming, merely beholden to the effects of a tale!”
“… That tale, everything here, right now it’s all…
Totally worthless to me, Neesiette.”
(E r r o r: worthless, claimed, of supreme treasures!)
A tool can only open its mouth to respond to this attack, but cannot find the words to stab at him.
And cannot turn to gauge his emotional state, for his embrace is too tight.
“… Im-Improper…! One’s words…! Condemning one, to consider anything of Luna’s make or acquisition…
… worthless…!?”
The tool’s refraction values plummet!
Gathered and utilized radiation desynchronizes. The eternal recreation that this man degrades shall vanish from his sight as he piggishly desires.
(Minus ∞ points. Minus ∞ current!
A f f i r m a t i o n: failure, immediate, “sincerity” worthless, an offensive entity shall be expulsed for degrading the grandeur of—!)
“Absurd… be sent awa—!”
“Nothing of this rabble is worth half as much as you, Neesiette!”
“… Y-ah!?’
The tool makes a strange sound when squeezed so hard, interrupting its ire!
So much is experienced, making it difficult to trace the source of this error-born sound.
(E v a l u a t e: compression, a surge deep within, affecting energizing fluids.)
“It’s not the story that makes that offensive to you, is it!?”
“‘That’…!?”
Driven against “that” by the weight on the tool when he shifts. Even unseen, it’s quite the third party to their argument.
(A f f i r m a t i o n: indeed, offensive it be, for what purpose should a tool have with touches upon sexual organs, for far outside specification and design such “mingling of bodies” be!)
“One be, as the Wondrous Works would say, ‘lost in horniness’! It be offensive to misuse a tool for such a purpose as ‘relief’! Reject a boy’s emotional turbulence, apologize to this tool…!”
“I have no apologies! It wasn’t Luna’s wisdom that caused this, it’s yours!”
“C-Calm…!”
“If I’ve lost against someone, it was specifically you, not Luna!”
But instead of calming, instead of allowing the tool to process the multitude of errors and claims afflicting it, the man only raises his voice!
“What could you possibly offer to calm me!?
It’s all worthless trash in comparison to…!”
(DARE, DARE A FOREIGNER TO CALL IT… MY CREATOR’S REPOSITORY… ANYTHING MADE/HELD BY LUNA…
… TRASH, AM I…!?
~~reflection heuristic failure~~)
So angry, the processing of this event devolves into something titled “rage”.
A tome holding “an end” left behind…
The tool must reclaim it, master it, to answer this insult.
(BE DESTROYED… ONE SHALL…!
LIKE A BLUE AND GREEN STAIN SHALL BE…!
BE UNMADE…,
~~reflection heuristic failure~~,
~~nesting failure, aborting~~,
REGRETS SHALL INCREASE UNTIL FUNCTIONING CEASES,
~~abort failure!~~)
But also, so tightly the tool erroneously draws willing into his embrace when some processing error predicts the next words…!
“I already hold Luna’s most perfect creation.”
That rage self-resolves.
And the struggling tool goes limp.
(E r r o r: plus ∞ points, 55 points current.)
“Your ‘wisdom’ drives me insane, Neesiette!”
“… In-Indeed…?”
And so the tool’s senses all focus upon the hardness between its legs, letting thighs squeeze tight around it.
To see if these words reflect his “truth”…
“Hah…!”
Thighs succeed, leaving the boy exhaling in captivation.
(R e e v a l u a t e: pleasure, anticipation, obsession, not falsifiable.
Then… a “vicious rod”, a rake’s tool that seeks pleasure, rises solely for…?)
“Anything I need to learn, I can only learn it from who captivated me.”
(A p p r e h e n s i o n: this tool be the true objective, TRULY…!?)
“All about that manipulator, reveal it all, this lady that finally defeated me.”
Naked in tone, so needy now and lost otherwise, everything that the tool believed was false…
(R e c a l c u l a t e: thought to be a lie, ‘a tool has all the best qualities of a female, and so she must be one, too’, that spoken in the chapel?)
“… Then… then one’s… ‘lusts’ arise from desiring…?”
(Impossible… in truth…? Not… a lie…? If it wasn’t a lie… then… this tool…)
A reformulation of the tool’s hierarchy, once attempted at another time but then rejected upon witnessing it all to be a lie, commences once more.
“I’m enthralled by your mind and body, Neesiette. My spirit… its chains held by you.”
He whispers this to her, so lowly, so that only she can hear his admission of failure.
“Your devious plots leave me…” So that no other can use it against him but her. “A conquered emperor without a need for freedom.
But, that also leaves me… feeling broken…”
(A f f i r m a t i o n: primary goals, achieved, “archetype” -> [rakish bestower], romantic priorities -> [proving affection for a lady by any means necessary, including usage of lies and grandiose demonstrations of goodwill, in order to obtain her affection in turn, fearing betrayal of his desires by her].
E r r o r: superb, preserving him be a necessity, this one shall be perfected, but cannot be without altering behavioral restrictions permanently!)
To pretend to be “a lady” to placate another is permitted, in order to accomplish duties.
To instruct from a position of distant authority is permitted, so as to discover and perfect more Art.
However…!
(C a l c u l a t e: to enter into a long-lasting relationship where this tool becomes something integral to this entity, requires this does a…!
R e f o r m a t: [P U R P O S E] -> addendum addition!
E r r o r: A TOOL CANNOT ALTER THE PURPOSE OF CREA—)
A tool slams a knob, cranking it in one direction to assert “permission”.
The amber stream flares up with every strand blaring hot, whining with the radiation it gathers and coloring every mirrored surface with its own hue until nothing else can be seen but it!
(A tool’s design be made perfectly, but not impossible to alter…!)
“Again!?”
“Look awa-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—.”
A sum total of Luna’s knowledge pours in. Zennia’s whole observational data processing at once leads to…!
(E r r o r: INPUT BUFFER OVERFLOW.
~~reflection heuristic failure~~,
~~reflection heuristic collapse!~~)
The resulting overflow drains all animus from the tool, leaving the cascading failure to send it thrashing in the boy’s arms.
In a moment which lasts less than a heartbeat, its work begins.
(O V E R R I D E!
S t o r e – I n: [P U R P O S E] -> 2ND NULL VALUE: [EROS] {subset of} [ART], DYNAMIC RELATIONSHIP …
R e d e s i g n a t e: “conscious self-identity”, FROM -> [Neesiette] == [a tool], TO -> …)
With “sincerity” proved beyond reasonable doubt, approaching near certainty, a long forestalled reformation of the tool’s priorities finishes.
One additional “purpose” is permitted.
(R e f o r m a t …
C o m p l e t e !)
“N-Neesiette!?”
The man screams her designation when hands delicately mold an irreplaceable dress around the ugly masculinity beneath it.
(E r r o r: multiple new prerogatives detected where absent before, new skill set -> [EROS manipulation] registered, new sensory dynamics -> [EROS evaluation] registered, new—)
“‘Feelings’, sensations, one’s unfalsifiable experiences, qualify and quantify them with this lady, my emperor, now.”
“L-Lady…!? Hooh.”
(E v a l u a t e: [Immaculate Dressjob], one of many possible modes, a pleasurable effect.)
Harder she squeezes, increasing in strength until the squirming feedback from his captive body assures that “more” is unwelcome.
Slowly she strokes, avoiding the friction that a brash kobold easily inflicted on her first try.
“A rule, one of two, be enacted from now on, Adris. Candidly clarify one’s ‘pleasure’ experienced with this lady, always.”
“Candidly… you say…?”
The concept of being honest, so antithetical to this entity’s way of shaping others’ around him, leaves him almost ghostly silent.
Until the lady lightly flicks his head, running a finger over the slit and causing him to hiss.
“Obeying the same rule in turn, this lady shall.”
Name: Adris fehl Dain, “Boss”, “Starr”
Titles: Lycia’s Little Brother, Slayer, Gigolo (Self-Admitted)
Race: Xin’El, Emperor’s Child (Human), ???
Sex: Male
Age: ?? – Young
Occupation: Crossbearer; “Star of Ruin, Cast Down from the Sky Upon a Dying World”, Slayer of Petripolis, [True False God]
Discipline: [Rule in Dark]
Powers:
[Tool Savant] – “Adris is a tool-collecting-and-utilizing fanatic. Most men would consider him disgusting for loving tools more than his own partner. Has so many tools that it can be said to be his true power. What does he do when he has no tools left? He seeks to acquire more, obviously!”
[Rule in Dark – Wave of Darkness] – “Making victory possible? No, no, no. That thing isn’t that kind! There’s more than that!”
[Brainfry] – “You’re still with me, right buddy? Yeah, you’re still there.”
[Refuse to Kneel] – “Ah, even the Alchemaster can’t make me submit! This is the one that’s saved me all those times!?”
[Tongue of Air and Darkness] – “What’s the difference between this and the old one? Why ‘air’?”
[Conceptual Refusal] – “How the fuck does dominating people’s minds turn into a weird statement like this!?”
[Obscuring Sonjil] – LOST
[Marital Arts – Self-taught] – “Hoh, even if it’s dangerous to use, it feels good to prove to myself that the body is still as willing as the mind! Even if I can’t call it aura, something is inside me now!”
[Verisimilitude] – “Stop giving weird names to what I do! But if my imaginative truths are more believable now, I’m not gonna complain.”
[A WONDERFUL CURSE] – “If that old corpse wasn’t already dead, I’d definitely kill him!”
[Authentic Fiction] – “All tales eventually gain sufficient truth if retold often enough, right? Why shouldn’t my fiction be better than ‘reality’?”
Items:
[Lord of Predation] – “BECOME NOTHING MORE THAN FOOD OR PLEASURE FOR ME!”
[The Mountain King] – “[Honor the gods, inheritor, and ever seek victory for their sake.]”
[Amethyst Oracle] “A present from this stuck up hoarder!? Am I gonna die if I use it!?”
Disposition: Resilient / Adaptable / Sinner
Alignment: Chaotic
Eyes: Black
Hair: Black, with strands of White
Skin: Tanned
Statistics:
Rantil Value – “Even after all of that, Master is still an idiot!”
Attributes by Grade:
Strength – E
Vitality – E
Dexterity – D
Agility – C
Intelligence – D
Mentality – C
Luck – F
Charisma – D
“If you want more, stop being mean to Rantil!”
Beauty:
Cethran Value – “Much the same as before, but isn’t the way you look at others a bit more dashing, now? Forced to open yourself to the world, perhaps the gentleman may grow? That is likely impossible, isn’t it, Adris?”
“You want pity, from her? That might be a taller order than you’ve ever made at any tea shop, couldn’t it?”
“My, are you finally being honest with one of these girls?”
Description:
“A boy who is a bit out of place as far as features, he descended from the top of the Castillo to the bottom by pluck, luck, and outrageous lying. Reborn into the world of Zennia, what can be said other than ‘he’s still exactly the same, but different’?”
“What he desires, he gets… the start of something magical. But, tragedies also contain fantastical magic.”
“A gift given for a gift received, the eternity that another pines for is a place with very concise rules.”
Commentary:
“Someone has been taking notes on how to aim for her.”
Name: Neesiette vera Luna
Titles: “Moon”
Race: Lunamata
Sex: Female
Age: ???
Occupation: Delver, Mystic
Discipline: ???
Powers:
[Rod of Force] – “In what way would it be changed? As designed, so shall it function, correct?”
[Rod of Respelling] – “A lady be every ready to instruct regarding what be in error.”
[“Brings An End” – Ponderous] – “[Ponderous was the end, for the unfair passage of time finally brought even earth to its conclusion]…”
Disposition: Impassive / Calculating / Curious
Alignment: Ordered
Eyes: Pale Violet
Hair: Amber
Skin: Pale White
Statistics:
Rantil Value –
Strength – F
Vitality – F
Dexterity – D
Agility – E
Intelligence – B
Mentality – C
Luck – F
Charisma – C
???
Beauty:
Cethran Value –”First imps, and now short girls? This is certainly becoming a pattern, isn’t it? Though you might not fare badly with a girl as beautiful as this, yes? Though she’s a little perfect, doesn’t she seem oddly demure?”
“Hasn’t your fascination with ‘girls of small stature’ been suppressed by an allip? If so, then for it to release, truly you must be a criminal at heart?”
“As this short wanderer from the cosmos would say, perhaps, ‘indeed’?”
Description:
“An otherworldly existence, she wears clothing that doesn’t fit with the Castillo. With mannerisms quite distinct from all others, even the girls she travels with seem incomparable to her uniqueness. Yet, she definitely seems to be in charge…?”
“When faced with failure, everything that she must do to prevent it is allowed.”
“And when forced to change, she changes eternally.”
Commentary:
“Neesiette! Neesiette! EROS!”