The night crept up, the crumbling city propped up with lackluster care and stones of mediocrity - A woman sitting in her room, her stomach grumbling as she looks upon various documents with a glance outside at through her window... The passing train letting out fumes of despair. The looks up at the ceiling and asks "We all die?" before answering "I think so...". She looks down on the street; Pink neon brings light to the pavement as the shops once abandoned and closed, open up.
The brown haired woman, lays down on her sofa and glances at the peacoat hanging off an old, dilapidated office chair. A medal stuck upon the coat, a cheap bit of metal which is supposed to mean something; in the personal, it does but not in the grand scheme. An award that meant a lot to the woman, herself not having the privilege of receiving such for her efforts in the past. She is young but her soul and mind is old, forcefully aged through calamity and anguish - Soon to possibly cut away by Mara's sickle. The existence and silence was crushing, it was loud and maddening. A doctor in a loss: Physically, mentally and spiritually.
A deep inhale breaks the silence as everything begins to crush her, a breath of release as she catches the stench of the mold in her room and the poor hygiene of her person, the horrid musk starting to grate against her very being. A chirp breaks up the distraction of her possession... A page which she later finds out as she plucks it from her overtly tight belt, a message... A message, pertaining to the recent on-goings of 'Project: Triumuri'. The details peaked the woman's interest as she reads over it once again with her good eye. A spark of life possesses the woman as she stands up from the sofa and walks over to her coat, grabbing it and leaving her apartment...
The page was addressed to... DoctorMarina Grozovskaya.
"The Kingdom of Simulacrums - Of Chiasmatic Time"
"The necessity for a professional expedition was not lost on me, 'Doctor'. I simply see it fit that our own team is the first to find out the magnitude of what we are dealing with. For secrecy, we'll be ditching 'TRIMURTI' for a pseudonym; "Lemuria". Perfect, right? A hyperstitional construct of the first non-human intelligences. An Orbis Tertius."
Doctor Francis Augustine Erama
“I once nodded off at a friend's place because of a terrible headache. All I could see was the image of a ruined city picked apart by white-clothed soldiers. They were building this gigantic tower in the middle of an ocean out of the pieces…
…I saw a band of them gathering near a rectanguar pool (which was part of a large grid of similair pools), then a gigantic black cube hovered above it then slowly descended into the water. It dissolved into a black liquid. The soldiers drank from it and told me: “This is how we can organize and synchronize with each other”…”
noun – a person who enters a place or situation where they are neither wanted nor supposed to be.
Educated just enough to understand.
Reckless enough to meddle, aware of the danger yet drawn to it anyway, like a moth to a burning flame.
- Regina Kross
``WE THE GRIX DESIRE YOUR WILLINGNESS TO SPEAK FREELY.`` ...
--- THE SKAARJ WERE NOT ATTACKED. --- A SLAVE OF THE COMBINE DELVED TOO DEEP. --- SHIVA HAS BEEN ALERTED. --- YOU GAINED THE INFORMATION EXPECTED NOT TO BE OBTAINED. --- THE NALI ARE SAFE FOR THE MOMENT. --- LITTLE DAMAGE WAS DONE TO NA-PALI. --- THE GRIX ARE NOT YOUR ENEMY.
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