“i want a pursuit where i parse pressure readings. i want a mind that can measure how misleading certain shades of cyan seem to sufferers and singers. i want my body rebuilt by the Bringers.” no preamble, no premeditation: this is how he was advised to speak.
clickering and flickommunication; iridescent distillumination. a filamental flash; there’s blood on his cheek.
sound of a shudder, and churning. “where there is life there is food. where there is meat there is mood.” smell, so faint, of hair set to burning. “once we were in veins, near same as this. ourock went allways down.” the voices halfly hum and fulmine hiss. “you, you are what you [rep]eat. you think we are hard and hold in no heat. from copper migration to silver sensation we clawed ourselves conscious and carved out our castle. and now you come here, vibrant vassal, and ask us to share you our metal. provide then, and prove.”
he holds up the petal. mosaics move. slip of scanlight skips as it’s recognized, re[a]d; air goes liquid as the name is said.
“the everywherewhenwhowill bloom! how can you carryour hand has no roomake it ours and all you askill and shape and constitask we bringive you yes now and take–what lines and lives and lights we’ll make!” the throne splits twain; the hall swallows him whole–this man who’d trade his totale for a turn of[f] Emptempore’s toll.
what was his reward, then, and what was his fate? that record, only the rock can relate.