-You have died-
Thanks for that, wait- Pain
Ouch
no, fuck you
I bash the nearest thing with whatever I have, there are no arms, no body, but I punch the hell outta the thing hurting me. All my vision is blank until what looks like a brick of heat swings around and impacts something, molding around it.
The heat is like a pert of me, I see it mold against the thing I hit, I feel the shape. I watch the hard angles and organic shapes mixed together with a fascination, seeing the shining all around onto the rest of the surroundings dimly.
Sparks and embers fluttering in the air as my energy returns, I'm in the jaws of something, it's broken but working crudely. I look down and see myself pinched in the chipped blades, not half way threw as the whole of the machine seems to have given up. Below are the gaps between the offset half circles letting anything squishy flow threw with enough pressure. I am no squishy.
But...
I hear the squishy...
Can I...feel?
Nope, no, I did not wanna do that.
Ignorance is bliss, I did not need that mental image. Everything around my is cold and rotten and just...so done. They just fall in, whole. They just crumble... and... drip... by.
I feel sick.
Some part of me is like them.
I don't like it.
I look up and see nothing, I push up and feel the mass. Like rotting potatoes, slimy and squishy and sliding over one another as they pile on past. I want to move up. I don't want to go past the jaws. So I try and claw my way up.
Why are they so slimy?
There's no grip here, anywhere, stepping on the once blades isn't... I have no legs... I do have
---
Somewhere inside the abandoned reincarnation center a vast explosion woke a nearby angel, the equally abandoned child was just trying to save the motivated and hopeful from the masses but be fell asleep. Yanimn went to fix the furnace to keep the lights on and Jessa just couldn't do a double shift no matter how hard he tried. The amber light slowly faded from the hall as the angel waded threw the inert souls of the world, no matter what they were made of nothing made it threw properly.
He remembered the fruit they were supposed to have, their timber. This was a place for shedding rot, shedding sin and guilt and regret, now the mass churned from life here was nothing but regret, sin, obligation, guilt, only the rare hearty root or sprout of hope remained. It was the angel's solemn duty to pull those back from the fate of the crusher, to put them back threw on in other soil, those souls were salvageable and resilient.
But what would explode? Even if- then he saw it.
Jessa was stunned by what his senses told him, a rebellious demon, a fallen angel, clockwork god and just plain fire all at once. Knee deep in dead things the angel stared on as it churned its fragmented. Shedding a glassy hulk from the massed material, it pulsed with energy, each wave curling to make a spinning shell as it expanded under the force of subsequent waves.
Jessa fell back.
Resting on the floor, the soul larger than himself let its essence leak out. Moments stretched on as the thing echoed it's curiosity and intrigue, blind to the fire that fed on the corruption with ravenous hunger. He let it wash over him, after all he'd hate to be the source of the suffering in the world he looked over.
