Cherno continued to move on, grasping the hand of the young boy. Moving past baths, the two eventually came across two bridges - one leading to the left and one to the right. Cherno did a thing.
Cherno fell into the next room. There was the door, right there, but -- A crying child? And-- oh, oh god, a tiger approaching them. Right. Be quick. You had your bag of candy from the junk area. Cherno tapped his feet to get the attention of the tiger. He waved the bag of candy around and threw it off to the side, far, far away from the child, for the tiger, but not too far so the tiger could get to it. The tiger looked in the direction of the candy. Quickly now. Cherno untied the crying child, picked them up, and ran towards the door with them. If he would die here, at least he would try to do so attempting to save another life.
TUMBLRxxx LOGICxxx VECTOR TIMExxx INTERACTIONxxx MENTAL HEALTH MEMORY torricelli's trumpet | the island of limits approaching zero xxxxx xxxxxThe next room was terribly loud. Ugh. Cherno could barely hear himself think. Around him was a chorus of people dressed in black and white, yelling "All hail Crestatia!" Except for one. One was someone in colour, saying something else, drowned out by everything. Cherno went up to this person and did a thing.
TUMBLRxxx LOGICxxx VECTOR TIMExxx INTERACTIONxxx MENTAL HEALTH MEMORY torricelli's trumpet | the island of limits approaching zero xxxxx xxxxxKeeping the card close to him, Cherno passed into the next room. That voice was becoming rather dismal, he must say. Constant, constant turmoil. The next room was filled with junk. How pleasant. Oh. Some of these things would be useful, though. Hm. Cherno did something and moved on.
Cherno entered a room with a table with cards of people he knew, sort of. Cursed memory. Oh, what was this card. How strange. He chose that. Now his puppeteer is going to go off lamenting overthinking this entire goddamn thing
[/url] TUMBLRxxx LOGICxxx VECTOR TIMExxx INTERACTIONxxx MENTAL HEALTH MEMORY torricelli's trumpet | the island of limits approaching zero xxxxx xxxxxDo not be dismayed, Cherno. Regardless of the answer you would have given, the question of certainty would have been asked. You were to be strong minded to this. You were a dead man walking, and you had nothing to lose. All Cherno had was his determination to get out, and he hoped dearly that Crestatia was a fan of determined people. "I'm fly standin' positive in my answer, you dig? Let's jive." xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx
[/url] TUMBLRxxx LOGICxxx VECTOR TIMExxx INTERACTIONxxx MENTAL HEALTH MEMORY torricelli's trumpet | the island of limits approaching zero xxxxx xxxxxIt was an old temple. Vines crept up strange, incomprehensible glyphs on the walls, and it stacked upon itself, like an Aztec pyramid. Were they somewhere in Central America? None of this made sense. The air seemed still, unmoving, as if time had stopped. And here, in the soft, wavering light of the temple's very edge, where seas of tropical foliage drifted off all around, and the soft crash of waves seemed to awaken his dull senses, just a bit. But here, on this deserted island, from which he had parachuted away from a dissolving airplane, where nothing and everything seemed real, Cherno understood that this would be a tough trial. Tough decisions altogether. His heart had sank as he discovered they would not be together. Of course. The demoness knew that working together would mean a likelier chance of all of them getting out. She wanted one. One that was worth it. But the 4% chance still existed. And damn it if Cherno wouldn't at least try. The girl he stared before, who faced the wall, did not seem to move an inch at first. Who was she? She wasn't trapped here, was she? It seemed more likely that she was a construct of this entire game. Well then, Cherno. You must remember that the game had only just begun. Cherno inhaled the wet tropical air deeply. Settle yourself. The scent of palm tickled his nostrils. It took a few moments, but the lights flickered briefly, and Cherno heard a voice in his head. "Left or Right?" Oh. Hmm.Cherno looked in both directions. Walls. Strange glyphs. Damn, he didn't really even like history. It-- it reminded him of human folly too much. Tch. He bit his tongue, softly. Think, Cherno. Or was this a median chance? Fifty-fifty. Did it determine something else? No time to think too much right now, he supposed. ... "_______" And Cherno waited, looking down at his dirty, sandy feet, beads of salty ocean water dripping down from his drenched hair and clothing.
Cherno walked out of the ocean slowly all drenched and sandy, unhooking his parachute and wrapping it up before storing it in his bag. Whoa, was that a strange building in the background. Oh my oh my. Cherno's head rattled to the point where his post had no formatting but he walked towards the building and inside it was a little girl who turned her back to him. He would need to consider the island later of course, so for now he called out to her. "Yo, you uh-- you a part of this little game? Do you mind helping, maybe?"
4 TUMBLRxxx LOGICxxx VECTOR TIMExxx INTERACTIONxxx MENTAL HEALTH MEMORY xxxxx xxxxxWhat the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck fuck FUCKING GODDAMN WHAT THE AAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Spoiler Cherno, having mistimed his pulled cord, landed close to the beach, splashing into the water. Real smooth, Cherno.
18 Cherno steps out of the plane whoop and decides to make a proper post when he gets a good look of his surroundings and the counter is safe. An island. Damn. He jumps, opens the parachute, and down down he goes.
But I do not have any cargo destination tag on my person!
If chocolate is indeed painful then I shall be the biggest masochist.
Add screws to everything.
Wordplay is highly attractive. They stick like gluon my senses far after hearing them, perhaps you may build a collection Fermi one day.
The costs of maintaining environmentally-friendly usernames at the time were much too expensive.
Your puns are never Bohring, Llave.
We have a pure gold Amaury statue in the central foyer of the extravagant staff palace irresponsibly built from taxpayers' money.
Certainly not? Also known as Ashwin needs to word posts less confusingly when his laptop is finally returned to him.
Both of you are made of matter.
I suspected it was a common thing? Every morning when I wake up I require a quick gaze down my pants to remind myself, and then I become confused because of today's gender politics.
