#moras even accepted the truth he isnt written in the tapestry of fate so thats even further unwound him and im just

[stolememory]

❛   you stain the pages with yourself.  ❜  

❛[ QUOTES THAT BROKE ME SENTENCE STARTERS ≻ accepting

`BOOKS WERE NOT SIMPLY THE PHYSICAL-- - THAT OF LEATHER AND PAPER, INK AND SCRY. Flesh pulsated with vermillion solvent, writ with stories crammed between folds of the LOGICAL MUSCLE. Dirt solidified around footsteps cast, marking presence and entombing the deceased ever more. The universe, every speck upon it a word // EVERY CONGLOMERATION OF GREATER FORCES MERE PARAGRAPHS WITHIN THE TOME (AND THEN THERE WAS THE SCRYER, THE GREATEST SPILL UPON THE STORY OF REALITY). To claim observation and collection, PURE AND TRUE // BUT REALITY LAUGHS AT SUCH A CLAIM. A book keeper does not erase the sentences deemed uninteresting and unfit-- - does not unwind stories deemed of NO IMPORTANCE (YOUR LIBRARY IS BUT A COLLECTION OF PERFECTION, AND WHAT DEEMED FIT THE CLAIM, KNOWLEDGE TYRANT).

`THE STAIN HAS BECOME RESTLESS AND HUNGRY, DEVOURING UNMARRED PAGES AND REDACTING WORDS EVER MORE. Ink melds with abyss, the obstruction knows what it has inside it (BUT A PAGE OR TWO IS NOT ENOUGH // THIS STORY HAS GOTTEN TIRESOME AND BORING). Its only inevitability that the distortions would be noted-- - which pages to claim his presence MARRED upon though, Fate? (WAS IT THE SANCTITY OF MEMORY // OF THAT WHICH SHOULD HAVE PASSED AND NEVER DID // OR THE GRAND TAPESTRY). Hermaeus Mora grand optic seems to tilt within the folds of lids, questioning // AH, BUT HE IS THE ONE THAT KNOWS, DOES NOT REQUEST (BUT ARE YOU ESCAPING YOURSELF?). “&– - Are you claiming me unbefitting my Sphere, simply because my shadow will always have a presence upon that which I loom over? Hands tend to leave a signature, whether its the author or the adapter-- - you seem to covet mortal aspects such is that. I'd think you'd find some appreciation in this.”

`IT JEERS, IT MOCKS AND WEARS THE SENSE OF A PRESENTED MAW OF TEETH LIKE A SMILE WITHIN VOICE. The Old Antecedent becomes restless, the WATERS BECOME UNSTABLE. (EYES BORE INTO THE GREAT LENSE // THEY KNOW THE WEAPON SHE HAS AND YET THE CONDITIONS OF SHEATH IT IS KEPT IN). Eons the tides have been uneasy-- - awaiting with mouth full of claims of lies and falsity // 'how would erasure of all benefit the Prince of Knowledge'? // BUT ALAS FATE DECIDED NOT TO ACT (THE BEAST WEARINESS HAS RECEEDED // IN ITS PLACE BURNS DISINTEREST). “&– - Or perhaps you've seen a certain possibility. For eons. A fate string, a possibility tied to so many individuals- with a singular ink blotch connecting them all. And yet you've spoken not a word in the way of abating it.” Amusement chokes the strands of words // ENERGY UNCOMMON FROM THE LANGUID STATE THE PRINCE HAD BECOME SUBMERGED IN. “&– - Are you holding on to the moral of one should not be punished for actions uncommitted? That a different fate might become determined by me? Perhaps it would-- - you've stated, I've seen; I am not bound to the tapestry. But it festers within me-- - time has no sway, and yet I feel it collapsing jaws of disinterest and boredom. Perhaps it grows in you too, if only in slight; you have some degree of the sight I do. Or perhaps you see a conclusion that... evades me, rectifying for possibilities. Theorizing, speculation and guessing-- - such alien things to me, so mildly refreshing as they are irritating. But like all, this answer will come to me in time, won't it sister? For that's my job-- - but change does come, what it might be, even I do not know. For reality, for you, for myself...... interesting, isn't it?” // @stolefate