#entity:Paper

[themuppetarchives]

Archivist,

I... hurt someone last night.

I shouldn't have left your archives but I was so, so hungry. The story your friend told me was enough to bring my strength back, let me stumble out of your haven of Paper and Knowledge and into the streets. It was very good, please tell him I said thank you and that I'm sorry it wasn't enough to sate me for the entire night.

I found an old man in the rain. Homeless, I think. He had all his belongings with him in a soggy plastic bag. I was soaked through myself from the rain and collapsed next to him in a heap, ink running from my eyes and hands. I asked him for a story. He gave it to me but it was nonsense, something one would tell a young child. So I asked for another. And another.

The stories were from his life, and then they were his life. And then his most secret thoughts and feelings, his darkest moments, his deepest fears. He went on and on until my pages dried and he was lost in the shuffle. Then it was silent, and I felt... wonderful. Euphoric. Full.

It felt good to eat him.

I don't know where I begin and the Knowledge ends. I think I used to be a person, once. Someone of flesh and bone with a name. I can't remember it. I remember other things. I remember that I used to be a she, before my skin became Paper and my blood became ink. I remember she used to believe in witches and magic. She loved the occult and collected "haunted" objects. Dolls, books, furniture. She thought herself an expert on the mystic.

She found me in a bin and took me home to restore my filthy leafs coated in dried blood. She opened it to read, and then page after page she became me, and I became her. I thought she was a better fit for me than that arrogant little boy all those years ago that ignored my old master's warnings and tried to read me. He was lost in the pages. She became the pages.

My old master... I heard that you've been in contact with him. The young one, the one who used me up and never gave any of himself to me. I don't know if you've struck any kind of deal with him, but I would rather go back to that dusty eternal library and be alone and weak than be in his possession again.

I feel safe here in these rows of files and books and ink and Paper that whisper secrets and thrum with life. I feel... at home. I could wander these halls for ages and be content.

Can I stay here, with you? Please?

- 📖

[STATEMENT ENDS.]

...I...yes. Do come in. Take a seat.

The Archive recognizes you, though you are not yet Of It. You belong to something else, but you are welcome here.

I...I do Know you, though - your fear, your confusion and disgust at what you have become before the...elation, the relief of finally sating the hunger that grows inside you. I didn't even realize I was doing it, at first. And then I did, and then I...started doing it on purpose. It's like a drug, and stopping is so-

Regardless. As I said, the Archive welcomes you, it is hungry for the stories in your pages, as you hunger for the stories here. I'm not going to keep you as an addition to the collection, however; you are welcome here as a guest. You will be held to the same expectations of such.

And that means that you cannot cause harm to any here, or any of the statements themselves. If your consumption of them results in their destruction, then you will have to take the place of what you consumed.

Otherwise...between myself and Martin, I'm sure we have plenty of stories of our own, should the temptation to go out...hunting again take you.

On that note - as long as you are in Beholding's favor, you have its protection - your safety is not guaranteed. The Archives are not a safe place for anyone. You know you are being hunted, and I won't have your presence here threatening the preservation of my Statements (they do burn so easily).

If that is understood, then...

Welcome, Paper. Do make yourself at home. You'll get used to oppressive feelings of dread after a while.

...Would you like a cup of tea?

[themuppetarchives]

A fantastic visualization of a new entity. I thank you for both your continued support of the Archives and your contribution to its records.

I drew the book 📖 from @themuppetarchives

[themuppetarchives]

You wretched thing, you and your master alike. Your relentless pursuit of the forbidden will be your Undoing, that I promise you.

But very well, Watcher. If it's a tale you wish to hear, I can give you one. Enjoy the show.

It will not be my tale, though. You don't get the privilege of Knowing me. Instead I'll give you the story of the book 📖.

I know not of its creation. It's existed for far longer than any thing has a right to exist, and contains more Knowledge than any form of media can or ever will. It has a peculiar ability to contain whatever answers you seek, and opening it at any point will lead you directly to the desired section of information. The Codex Omnis. The Book of All.

It's fairly harmless, as long as one doesn't use it too often. Extended time with the book 📖 can lead to unfortunate circumstances. Reading it cover to cover is impossible, the human body cannot contain the multitudes that it does so effortlessly with Paper.

It came into my possession when my father passed as a part of my inheritance and I admit, I became... dependant on it. I never read more than a page at a time, I've seen what it can do. Witnessing one's own brother succumb to the Paper leaves quite a harrowing memory and a bone-deep sense of self preservation. I never let my curiosity get the better of me. I'm not of your lot, after all. I'm still myself.

But having the power to Know anything, quite literally anything I could ever want to know, was intoxicating. The book could tell me whatever I wished. Whether my housekeeper was stuck in traffic, what my horrible stepmother was wasting her half of my father's money on, the exact temperature and humidity of any room in my house. Whether or not someone I fancied was worth the trouble, their intentions, their deepest innermost thoughts of me that they would never ever say aloud.

And then one day, it was taken from me. My family heirloom, the key to my past and present and future, my own personal well of Knowledge that I could drink from whenever I pleased. It was stolen in the night. I didn't see their face. It was dark and I was still sleep-drunk and I'm fairly certain they were not facing me. They disappeared, tome in hand, and I've been searching ever since.

So, now I come to you, Watcher, child of the Beholding, the most beloved of the Eyes On Earth; The Archivist. I followed the trail and it led me to you. Whatever imbecile decided to try and read the damn thing in its entirety is likely wandering around out there, body slowly wasting away as they turn into Paper and Ink. It's meant to rain tonight. I hope they don't seek shelter.

I demand my book 📖 back immediately.

And I won't take kindly to being compelled again.

- Coda

[STATEMENT ENDS.]

I...must admit I didn't realize how hungry, I really was. Beholding thanks you for your...generous contribution. Not only do we have a new power to consider, but a new artifact and, should I be so lucky...a new Avatar as well. An entirely new world, so much of it still unseen, ripe for the viewing...

It was no coincidence I have found myself in This Place and This Time.

Now as for your book📖 - I can tell you that whatever poor soul had come to me with their statement was too far gone for saving. If it is as you say, which I have reason to believe that it is, they have succumb to...the Paper.

When consumed, does the book 📖remain intact or does it fuse with its host? I would quite like a chance to See this Codex Omnis for myself. This book 📖and I...I feel a certain...kinship with it. Are we that different - after all, I am The Archive of Fear. It came to me for help, perhaps it sees the Archives as some sort of refuge. What is an archive if not that exact thing - a sacred sanctuary for Knowledge.

More interesting still is the emergence of The Paper as a new power in this world...

The Paper. The Felt. The Hunger. The Faceless. The Dreaming.

[...]

Ah-

The rain is starting.

[END RECORDING.]

[themuppetarchives]

Glutton. Traitor. Menace.

I never should have come to you. I should have hunted that book 📖 down alone, as I always have. I thought perhaps you would understand my need to have it returned, but it seems I was mistaken.

It does not belong to you. It is mine, as it was my father's before me. I was the smart one, the one who minded my own business, and I'm the one who owns that book.

I don't care if it's become sentient, or if it's consumed some fool who dared to open its front page. I don't care if I have to keep it under lock and chain for the rest of my life. I will have it back.

I will have my book 📖 back if it's the last thing I do.

Do not cross me, Archivist. If I find it in your possession, there will be dire consequences.

- Coda

Postscript: To the creature that calls itself "sin", stay out of my dreams. And never speak of my father again. This is your final warning.

[STATEMENT ENDS.]

Glutton? Traitor? Menace? Why, you flatter me, Coda. I've only just arrived here and already made such an impression. I see my reputation proceeds me.

Make no mistake, I certainly understand your desire, your hunger, the relentless pursuit of the book 📖that has marked your soul and feeds off your obsession. Your book📖 knows all, but mostly it Knows You. It can feel you hunting it, it know where you will look and where you will forget. It Knows your desperation and your consumptive need for it. It needs you too, though it fears you. It fears you will consume it completely.

The Paper is terrified, cowering and new, unsure of what it is or what is has been. It is the memory of dream written into the memories of a mortal who feared the Unknown so deeply that it gave itself to it's opposite.

You say that it is yours...but you belong to it just as much.

I will not keep anything prisoner, but will similarly not tolerate hostages.

You are free to Look Around.

[End Recording.]

[themuppetarchives]

Watcher.

I think you found something that belongs to me.

A book 📖.

It was stolen from me and now I see it has come to find you, attached to some sorry sod who was fool enough to read it. Ridiculous creatures, you Eyes, greedy for Knowledge that you cannot handle, gorging yourselves on information until it transforms you into Something Other.

But the book. I want it back.

I need it back.

- Coda

Oh, so that is your book that ran away and found a victim. I'm afraid it had already consumed its victim by the time its statement found its way to my archives.

I do have a part of here, the same as there is a piece of each subject held here, but unfortunately, that part belongs to The Eyes, as you say.

Yes, our nature is unfortunate. The relentless pursuit of Knowing.

A hunger you know well, don't you? Here you are, pursuing your book. You would do anything, anything for that book. Go anywhere, hurt anyone who stood in your way.

I could...help you locate it. I am very good at finding books, after all, that is part of my job.

But first, Coda...

Tell me about your book. From the beginning. 👁

[themuppetarchives]

Archivist,

I think I need help. I don't really have anywhere else to go. I'm alone now, I used to have friends but they've left me. Or maybe they think I left them.

You said you feel a call to the Felt? Do you think the same can be said of Paper? Of newspapers, stained with ink that runs and forms into symbols I no longer recognize. Of books full of leafs of pages full of words that I claw at, desperate to understand and know and read and see, but when I do so I leave gouge marks in my arms. Of lined sheets that rip and tear and crease and crumple and breathe and quiver.

Is Paper the same as Felt? As Flesh?

I'm afraid. I Know but I don't Understand. I think I'm losing my mind.

Please help me. It hurts. I cry but the ink that comes from my eyes blinds me. There's no warmth in my hands anymore.

And yet it calls to me, beckons for my embrace, whispers sweet promises that I Know are lies. I don't think I'm strong enough to resist.

I just wanted to know.

- 📖

Statement of...a book regarding its cry for help. Received 15 June, 2024. Audio transcription recorded by The Archivist.