“Oh, I’m sorry, AJ.” I said, muttering through an entirely hypothetical conversation as I hauled my things off the porch of a residence I no longer lived in. “I can’t afford to give you gas money to your job interview. As it turns out, the fucking UNSEELIE FAE KING was too busy cementing their ass indent in Arkady’s couch to drop off MY PROPERTY THEY TOOK to the middle of downtown so I had to pay for a BLOODY Saturday night Uber.”
He went on. “It’s manipulative. It’s all just manipulation. It’s like when Rowan told me that you basically planned to fuck off to Europe if I didn’t get back together with you. And what, just find a nice, historic city as an aesthetic backdrop to drink yourself to death in?”
“[Arkady,]” I said in a rough voice. “What the fuck did you think I was in the process of doing when I met you?”
(Disclaimer: Some of you who know me on social media may have seen me talk about Kaspar. I’ll […]
“I wish I could just switch and let someone else handle my problems for a bit.” Well, I don’t know how to do that on command. “Well, yeah, your alters are useless.” … Thanks.
“And she’s a sociopath, Mum. It’s basically a whole ‘keep your friends close and enemies closer.’ She can’t help it. She has to do this charisma-masking thing. The fact that she hardly paid me any attention is proof that I’m more important to her.” Mates, I was brainwashed, brainwashed.
Even more infuriating, March put his two cents in without knowing the situation, putting his hypothetical psychology degree to the test. “His alters don’t love you, Xanthe.” He said, in a way that made me vaguely feel as though I were being condescended to by a breathy 900 number.
Wherein the ‘Weeaboo Death March’ is born.
To create the universe, Abyss split itself into Eight elements.
Read that again.
It once was whole and then it split itself up into multiple parts to create eight other gods and that was how this universe began.