adrian_
julie my beloved 🥰
The first tangible had been rust.
When the world began anew, crimson sprayed the ground in screaming currents, hurricanes of thick toxic dust whipped the land and great dunes cast themselves upon the landscape chaotically. The millenia-old corrode was enraged. It's life force, so utterly infinite yet so meaningless had forced it to continue It's throes of sudden and sparse rebellion against it's own existence.
As it waited, the corrode attempted to pass the time, as impercievable as the seconds and minutes were. It erected scarlet towers of grime, stewing in it's hatred. The towers harnessed that fury, spreading in spikes and connecting to eachother until they fell once more into the drifts.
These spires began to feel the same primordial concept of emotion that the rust had so unendingly suffered, harnessing it into an energy of creation. The rust, finally thoroughly stimulated, had grown content with it's kaleidoscope realm.
But the architecture had not. It writhed continously, never ending - much to the delight of the corrode. The eternal movement had left the rust brittle and weak, prone to ignition, though the corrode did what it could to prevent such happenings.
The architecture wanted escape, wanted freedom. The Corrode was nothing but a dictator to the geometry, a mathematician in the scarlet sea. In a plot against the rust, the towers submitted pieces of themselves into a silhouette, which once completed, was cast off into the vermilion.
The silhouette, a floundering mass of limbs, dug a world-spanning crater where the rust could not observe. The silhouette cut limbs from itself and fabricated the first entities with which to craft a fundamental reality, they were legion, specializing in different things that were not possible in the Corrode.
Their stories are sacred, their path to the creation of Fatir is legendary, and their sacrifice is remembered.
Its just a god rp with a bunch of cryptic symbolism, like I don't know what else to say.
When the world began anew, crimson sprayed the ground in screaming currents, hurricanes of thick toxic dust whipped the land and great dunes cast themselves upon the landscape chaotically. The millenia-old corrode was enraged. It's life force, so utterly infinite yet so meaningless had forced it to continue It's throes of sudden and sparse rebellion against it's own existence.
As it waited, the corrode attempted to pass the time, as impercievable as the seconds and minutes were. It erected scarlet towers of grime, stewing in it's hatred. The towers harnessed that fury, spreading in spikes and connecting to eachother until they fell once more into the drifts.
These spires began to feel the same primordial concept of emotion that the rust had so unendingly suffered, harnessing it into an energy of creation. The rust, finally thoroughly stimulated, had grown content with it's kaleidoscope realm.
But the architecture had not. It writhed continously, never ending - much to the delight of the corrode. The eternal movement had left the rust brittle and weak, prone to ignition, though the corrode did what it could to prevent such happenings.
The architecture wanted escape, wanted freedom. The Corrode was nothing but a dictator to the geometry, a mathematician in the scarlet sea. In a plot against the rust, the towers submitted pieces of themselves into a silhouette, which once completed, was cast off into the vermilion.
The silhouette, a floundering mass of limbs, dug a world-spanning crater where the rust could not observe. The silhouette cut limbs from itself and fabricated the first entities with which to craft a fundamental reality, they were legion, specializing in different things that were not possible in the Corrode.
Their stories are sacred, their path to the creation of Fatir is legendary, and their sacrifice is remembered.
Its just a god rp with a bunch of cryptic symbolism, like I don't know what else to say.
