#to become pitch black or free from color because nothing exists within a void(?)

[maxiwaxipads]

Manufactured SEEDs

Basically, the concept is that SEEDs once served as a “positive” force meant to permanently remove or separate negative emotions that were deemed unnecessary.

(I wish I could elaborate but I don’t really know how) (I wanted the idea that “SEEDs” have always existed or something unique to Fragaria Memories without being inspired to anything if that makes sense?)

Assuming that SEEDs existed during the time of Legendary Red, what if “Legendary Red” made the SEEDs but backfired and twisted the story that they saved the world of Fragaria from the SEEDs.

Maybe the SEEDs couldn’t be completely destroyed for whatever arbitrary reason, and the Strawberry King took responsibility to guard the last remnant of existing SEEDs left from this world of Fragaria?

Eldritt’s purpose is to keep the origin of SEEDs and the truth of Legendary Red a secret. 

<- But at the same time, what good is keeping the truth hidden(?)) “To keep the world idyllic”(?) (How would revealing the truth about Legendary Red and the SEEDs affect the world? 

(Maybe we can connect this to time loop theory(?)) (Do you think Halritt wants to keep the world happy by all means necessary) (and time loop is his only answer)

Do you think their existence evolved during their entrapment by the Strawberry King? They’re indiscriminately trying to feed from negative emotions because of this insatiable hunger they had for who knows how long?

How did they escape? Why did the Strawberry King disappear?

Lovers to the same lies— Protectors to sanctity, memories to sanity Red-splattered puddles dye into black I, the shadow to which you belong … strangers to the flesh. Fumbled darkness, the pitch-black mold. A stiff neck … Unable to turn. (Clocks unfortunately twist … A head rolls down.)

Edlritt - “What only needs to be known is that…” Eldritt - “We both want the SEEDs eliminated.” “So, Merold, as long as the motivation exists—we will both be quiet.” Eldritt - “Is this clear enough for you?"

[veronica-thoughts]

Who am I?

The dome above me is a swirling grayness. The world rumbles. It’s hungry.

For me?

Am I something to be eaten?

The waters in which I drift are numbing. I am rocking. Everything is moving. I am dizzy.

There is a roaring in my ears and my mouth is stale.

Who am I?

I need to find my bearings.

My head is heavy. I raise it above the lapping waves. The shore is so close, barren and rocky but solid. Every one of my joints cracks and pops as I strain against the water’s grip.

My muscles are not as heavy as my soul. They come alive to serve their purpose.

The waters begin to shallow, I scrape my knee against the jagged stones.

I can stand. Salt and biting wind make my knee sting. The water has the firmest grip on my ankles. It wants to pull me back in. I stumble and the sea drags me into itself. It wants to be a mother and press me to its bosom. My lungs fill with water and my eyes burn.

I have forgotten the embrace of a mother but it can’t be this. We fight. I break free and make it back to the shallows.

What is on that shore?

Is there certainty?

Security?

Purpose?

I don’t know.

The waters wail for me. They roar. The world cracks around me. I am so scared.

My legs are shaking from the strain, or maybe the fear.

Trembling and dripping, I make it to the shore. The flesh on my feet was softened by the water, and shells and rocks slice into them easily. I don’t stop moving until the ground is dry beneath my feet.

I made it.

I take a breath of dry air.

The grayness still swirls above me. The thunder is mourning with the water.

One foot in front of the other, I walk and come across a hill.

Maybe a mountain?

I don’t know.

So much for certainty.

Why am I here? In the water, every day was the same. Numb and predictable. I expected nothing else because I knew of nothing else. Was it easier then? Probably. I stare at this mountain and it stares back. It is sure and proud, I am not. My muscles are screaming in protest, the cuts on my feet slowly ooze hot blood and it soaks into the ground.

My heart is burning. It wants to answer the challenge. I will my feet to move forward and maintain a steady pace. The incline is sharper than it looks. I’m crawling, then scaling.

Look at me. Climbing a mountain bare handed. Blisters form and pop on my hands but with every foot I am more sure. My confidence surges and I scale the mountain as if I’ve been doing this my whole existence. The mountain doesn’t care that I am rising to its summit.

It just stares. The fire in my heart glows warm within me, giving me strength.

My reaching and climbing becomes routine, this is my mountain now. Climbing is my purpose!

Then I reach the top.

It’s a plateau, not a mountain.

The air is stagnant but the grays still swirl over my head.

Now what?

The climbing is over with. I have reached a flat and dusty plane. Climbing was my purpose, wasn’t it? What is the point of a purpose when there is no way to exercise it?

Who am I?

I look back to the water. She calls for me, pitifully. I sink to the ground and watch the churning waters, listen to the crashing waves. It is so far away.

A weak breeze lifts my dry hair. A warm smoky smell wafts by and I hear a melodic clanging. I turn from the edge and see a building. Simple but strong. Windows line the walls but I can’t see inside. I grab the worn handle of the heavy door and wrench it open.

The high ceiling makes the room look large but I feel the smallness. It’s misty with a layer of sweet smoke. It is silent. I am captivated by the light slanting through the tall colored windows. They are so vibrant and dazzling, obviously designed with loving care. I’d never thought of color before. The reds, blues, and yellows pour into my eyes and fill my soul to bursting. My heart cracks open with the magnificence.

I want to behold this color forever. I want to be one with this color and this sweet smell and the security of these walls. Everything is stillness and peace.

There are two columns of shiny wooden benches separated by an aisle. I realize that most of the seats are occupied by dusty statues. My breath catches and my heart skips slightly. I keep my eyes to the floor and manage to find a vacant seat in a lonely corner. I snuggle in and stare at the colored glass.

I give myself to the colors. I’m dissolving into the smoke. I am a particle dancing in the warm light.

I hear the grind of stone moving against stone.

I feel the pinprick of stares.

I snap back into myself. My heartbeat quickens and I look around. The grinding is deafening, it hurts my teeth. The heads of the statues are turning. My chest goes cold and my heart drops into my stomach. I can’t breathe and I can’t move. Dozens of heads turn to me. Their eyes are hollow, black, staring pits. Voids of darkness stare into me. The silence has become oppressive. Fear has frozen me. Tears tickle my eyes as I stare back at them. I can’t be aware of the colors anymore, all I see is their black sockets.

Why am I here?

I was not invited and forced my way in. I interrupted.

I don’t feel safe.

I get up and hurry to the door as quietly as I can. The grinding is intolerable as their gaze follows me.

The door shuts behind me but I am not safe.

I take a step to the water.

Then I turn around and begin to run the other way. My sore feet pound against the ground, kicking up dust. I want to vomit. My heart won’t stop pounding from my stomach. There is a shrill screaming that makes me run faster. I am frightened.

I am screaming.

I step onto nothing and gravity takes me. I land on my knees first, the pain makes me gag. I tumble onto my shoulder and it screams. Maybe that was me? I don’t know. Head over heels I tumble down the steep slope. Dust gets in my eyes, in my mouth, choking me. Bruises form on top of bruises as I fall. I don’t bother trying to stop. It hurts. I miss the water.

Why did I leave it? I didn’t know pain then or the frightening, hollow stares of others. I wouldn’t have moved forward if I had known it would hurt this much. Would I?

I try to distract myself from this endless fall by recalling the colors, but the memory was replaced by black holes.

Thud.

I am bruised and dirty. I’ve ended up in a pitch dark chasm. Hot tears are leaking from my eyes but I’m not crying. Look up at the swirling gray. I strain my ears and hear the faint roar of the water and the hungry rumble of thunder. They are so far away but the familiar sounds are reassuring. I sigh. I can’t bring myself to stand.

The ground is strange. It’s squishy, warm, and pale. I can only go forward so I begin to crawl. I can’t see much in front of me but I continue. It’s hard to keep my balance with the ground shifting under my weight.

My hands start to sweat and stick to the ground. It is moist. I’m finding it harder and harder to bring my knees forward. I don’t look back. My hands get stickier. I’m uncomfortably warm and hurting all over. I’m panting with the effort.

I can’t move anymore?

I look back and see the ground has enveloped my feet. I can’t tug them free. My hands begin to sink. My shoulder throbs as I try to wrench free. The blob is absorbing me, becoming my flesh. I feel what it feels. I am the blob. I’m exhausted. I give in. I am a mass of meaningless flesh in darkness. Alone. It is disgusting, feeling how far my flesh reaches, but I don’t feel afraid. Acceptance washes over me, or maybe it’s resignation.

What am I?

Did I come all this way to realize that I am just a lump of flesh with no control? Is this the conclusion? Shouldn’t conclusions have answers instead of more questions?

I am so tired. I can’t even bring myself to long for the water. I have sunk up to my nose. Will I be able to breathe once my head is covered? I hope not.

Suddenly, a lightning bolt cracks brilliantly in front of me. It leaves no scorch. I can’t look up. I feel two bare feet planted on my flesh. A graceful kneeling towards me, a warm hand cups my head and sculpts me out of the ground. I can breathe. Slowly, I am separated from the mound. I am brought to my knees and I look into the light. It doesn’t hurt. I stare into a pair of blue eyes, the warmest blue. The colors have been returned to me. I want to melt into them.

I am stopped and helped to my feet. There are no words spoken from our mouths but the eyes sing of love and compassion. They stare intently into me. I am enveloped in warmth and all the pain disappears! I take what feels like my first breath and am invigorated as the oxygen pumps through my veins. I am light as air, being lifted out of the dark pit. I am unafraid.

We make it up to the swirling grays, I see the water and the plateau and the building. So small and insignificant. I’m hugged tighter in reassurance. We rise through the mist and break into great blueness and bright light. I blink and strain my ears but all I hear is the music of our heartbeats.

Who am I?

The eyes tell me that I am the person they love.