neon reverie
ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍᴇʀ ᴅɪsᴄɪᴘʟᴇ
- 040302locationsehunStrange moving machine.
- 0403mood01sehunhungry bro
- 04outfit0201sehun
- mentions030201sehuneverybody.
With bonds cursed and celestial still unbroken, the group had left the temple. It had come to no surprise that Mother’s ‘guidance’ was nothing but a string of words that were tied together with a meaning only she could see; actions always seemed frustratingly difficult for a goddess like her — unless it was imprisoning her own children in the Ring. So much power, and yet, she decided to let their fates rest on the shoulders of three humans. Sehun did not know if Mother had lost her mind somewhere in the Eons, but he detested how something so absolute got pushed into the hands of the fickle.
A test this was, wrapped in the pretense fabrics of a Prophecy; Sehun always loathed things drenched in supposed fate, finding it absurd how they could stand above actual facts. It was illogical to listen to these cosmic voices and allow them to be the only truth, as if anything you have learned, everything you have gained, did not matter. Sehun much rather feast on human minds than divine hearts; one was at least capable of devising interesting ideas, the other just thrived in either silence or punishment.
A game of the gods, this whole situation echoed, with the mortals as pawns, and him and his brothers as sacrifices. Hope, albeit tiny and false, crumbled upon the assessment of these humans; Sehun found it difficult to imagine that these were the ones that could free them. He could see why Mother welcomed the crazily devoted one, but the other two did not seem the types to do well being entangled with deific matters. Panic swirled while anger turned, both emotions had painted their auras clearly, deeply.
Sehun could still see the annoyance flaring inside Minsu as she suddenly yanked him closer, words holding a Mingi-like quality: a sardonic bite if you will. What he had done to warrant such emotions remained unclear— had the humans always been this sensitive?— but to show he had not meant to offend her, now and earlier, he tried to make amends by sharing his knowledge.
Only, his words sounded more condescendingly than intended.
“I see you lack critical knowledge—“ a statement true to him, but perhaps insulting when perceived in a more general sense “— it is true that we have powers, but they are not the ones you imagine we have. Ours are more…concentrated I suppose. For example, I am merely capable of seeing you mortals’ true emotions and communicating with the dead.” A grumbling noise coming from an old kind of hunger; the wandering of the gaze to a white box not too far away, the twitch of a finger.
Food.
He needed food.
“Do you not know of any tailors that could solve this problem?” was the question directed back at Min-su. A pauze, lips pulled tighter in thought. “….You do have tailors here, don’t you?” Discomfort meets bitterness— a voice in the back of his head.
Oh how little you know now…
A test this was, wrapped in the pretense fabrics of a Prophecy; Sehun always loathed things drenched in supposed fate, finding it absurd how they could stand above actual facts. It was illogical to listen to these cosmic voices and allow them to be the only truth, as if anything you have learned, everything you have gained, did not matter. Sehun much rather feast on human minds than divine hearts; one was at least capable of devising interesting ideas, the other just thrived in either silence or punishment.
A game of the gods, this whole situation echoed, with the mortals as pawns, and him and his brothers as sacrifices. Hope, albeit tiny and false, crumbled upon the assessment of these humans; Sehun found it difficult to imagine that these were the ones that could free them. He could see why Mother welcomed the crazily devoted one, but the other two did not seem the types to do well being entangled with deific matters. Panic swirled while anger turned, both emotions had painted their auras clearly, deeply.
Sehun could still see the annoyance flaring inside Minsu as she suddenly yanked him closer, words holding a Mingi-like quality: a sardonic bite if you will. What he had done to warrant such emotions remained unclear— had the humans always been this sensitive?— but to show he had not meant to offend her, now and earlier, he tried to make amends by sharing his knowledge.
Only, his words sounded more condescendingly than intended.
“I see you lack critical knowledge—“ a statement true to him, but perhaps insulting when perceived in a more general sense “— it is true that we have powers, but they are not the ones you imagine we have. Ours are more…concentrated I suppose. For example, I am merely capable of seeing you mortals’ true emotions and communicating with the dead.” A grumbling noise coming from an old kind of hunger; the wandering of the gaze to a white box not too far away, the twitch of a finger.
Food.
He needed food.
“Do you not know of any tailors that could solve this problem?” was the question directed back at Min-su. A pauze, lips pulled tighter in thought. “….You do have tailors here, don’t you?” Discomfort meets bitterness— a voice in the back of his head.
Oh how little you know now…