Once you get close enough to the tower, there is a brief, soft but deeply unnerving sound that leaves a ringing silence after it - and the landscape, changed. The tower is now sliced into separate sections as though by a giant sword, all of them floating in the air but not drifting too far from the tower’s original position. Across the sky runs… a crack, or perhaps a tear - it’s hard to say. It’s painful to look at; nothingness put into visible form, like a slash in a painting that makes you realize all that beauty and color is nothing more than mere pigment on canvas; a two-dimensional existence at best. The moon above is replaced by a black hole, and somehow seems closer than before.
Suddenly, there is someone on the rubble-strewn steps of the tower. Have they been here this whole time? Or did they only just appear? Their shape flickers constantly as though two images are trying to exist at the same time, but even through the visual noise it’s possible to recognize Levity… and his robot-bird assistant. An arm becomes a steel wing for a brief moment, a metal beak suddenly nothing more than the curve of Levity’s mask - before the dance of the shapes begins again.
The… creature, if such it be, seems to pose a question. Perhaps surprisingly, its voice is rather melodious if tinted with static, but the words are undecipherable. Whatever language it speaks, it is none you know, not even Ancient.
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Re: START: THE MACARENSES ANGLE
Suddenly, there is someone on the rubble-strewn steps of the tower. Have they been here this whole time? Or did they only just appear? Their shape flickers constantly as though two images are trying to exist at the same time, but even through the visual noise it’s possible to recognize Levity… and his robot-bird assistant. An arm becomes a steel wing for a brief moment, a metal beak suddenly nothing more than the curve of Levity’s mask - before the dance of the shapes begins again.
"█̶̡̢̼̗̥͑͜█̴̞̩̬̩͋͐̓͌͊̈͗͜ͅͅ ̵͚͉͕̱̭͖̈́͂̀̍͝█̷͇̭͓̟̝̭̝̲̆̇̾͊̌̃͒͠͠█̵̩̰̝̈̐̏̆́ ̵̝̫͚̱̖̗̱̼̤̖̃█̵͔̠̹̞̯̮̔͠█̷̡̣͕͔̟̬̻̤͎͍̙̑͆̌͆̒̕ ̷̡̡̜̦̈̍̏̀̒͛̊͠͝█̸̛̬̖̣̱̗̗̝͈͌̓͋̀͒͊͊̚ͅͅ█̴̛̞̱̱͎̦̀́̀̍͑̕͠█̵͕͔̬́̉́̓͐̃̔͂͠█̶̡̘̙̺̭̻̰̭̅̄̓̏̾͆͊͝?̸̲͖̺̠͖͖̥͕̹͌̿̓"
The… creature, if such it be, seems to pose a question. Perhaps surprisingly, its voice is rather melodious if tinted with static, but the words are undecipherable. Whatever language it speaks, it is none you know, not even Ancient.
"█̷̨̩͈̮̜̺̗̒́̑̌̂̆̄̓█̴̧̗̤̼̻̦̤͖͈̰̽̇ ̴̦̱̱͚̀͊̾͜ͅ█̸̡̢̜̼̞͚̖͎͚̞̃̅͐͜█̶̧̨̰͖͚̞͉͉̝̺͇̒̅͛̅█̵̧̦̰̘̠̙̭͔̅̽͊͐͒̊͐̈̕.̸̡̣͖͖̬̮̝͍̰͙̜́́̌͒̈́͌̕͝ ̷̤̪̤̮̻̱͍̦͔̮͑͂̂͋̚̚͝ͅ█̴̫͍͈̙͇͙̫̮̺̖͙̍͗̌͌̄̔̉͌͋͘█̶͚̥͓̯͇͓̫̰̄̑̈́̀̉̋́̓͂̍͜█̷̨͕͈̼̻͉̉̈́̏█̵̧͈̝̩͛͝͠█̶̢̙̝̝̘̠̠̯́̔ͅ.̸̜͉̤̭̟͓̣̩͕̩̘͆"
It steps closer, holding out a hand - wing steel palm blades skin - in a seemingly friendly gesture. There is a smile in their voice now.
Take their hand?
Re: START: THE MACARENSES ANGLE
[ >take their hand ]
Re: START: THE MACARENSES ANGLE
They laugh, excited, happy, and their hand is solid under your touch, warm skin, firm hold as they tug you towards them—
— and everything goes —