idolpro | sensitIV - SATURDAY NOON PST

sensitIV - SATURDAY NOON PST

[ The bar is unit-colored with light unit paraphernalia, although it's all just for show. Fortunately, comfort isn't part of the unit aesthetic this time—all seats are cushioned, whether the booth seats or the bar stools, comfy and lush. Idols can sit anywhere they like, it seems.

There's alcohol available, but everything else is locked behind the wall-cabinet. . . the recipe book is also available to peruse at one's leisure.

Ah—the door opens, and a fuzzy sort of shade steps in. It looks like idols will be serving the Damned, today. . . ? ]

RECIPE BOOK

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Okay then, for some juice . . .

[ He wasn't lying. He's never felt shame before. So--

This memory takes place high above ground, almost touching the clouds. The wind whips around you, but it's not unwelcome at all; on the contrary, it feels like an extension of you, an endless body that touches the tips of the world. You gaze down at a continent that looks like it could be beautiful, one day -- but it's ravaged with ice and snow, only just beginning to thaw and give way to the lush green trying to spring forth underneath.

After careful analysis of the terrain, the highest peaks of the mountains grab your ire. Though beautiful, their placement may keep the climate harsh in pockets, or allow the boreal chill to continue indefinitely. For a comfortable and prosperous land, where fruit can grow and humans can flourish, changes will have to be made. This land has been too cruel for too long.

. . . And yet, important as it is, this task is very annoying.

With resignation, you summon the wind, gathering a newfound power that sparks through your being, and violently rip the mountaintops from their base -- they split and collapse to rubble in the barren cold, or sail far until they're lost on the horizon. The whole world shakes and reverberates from it, for a time, but the terrain is left smoother; rolling hills rather than harsh peaks.

Afterwards, you descend to sit upon one of the decapitated mountain peaks, enormous wings sprawled haphazardly behind you. Hmmm . . . did you overdo it? ]

. . . Mmmmmm.