A Summary. Almost Accurate.
Am immigrant, a prisoner, a native, a creation... Grace was all those things. Then she died, many times beyond many times, her very personalities being ground down until the dust condensed, shaped by the very Place she came from. Grace is living sedimentary rock. She isn't a spider. She does look a lot like a spider, though, and doesn't protest when people call her a spider. She is hungry enough to want to eat you, no matter what you are, but she's too polite. Those plays, she has decided to play games. Ones she's currently curious about are the game of pets and masters, domination and submission, the primal game of sex itself and its many esoteric offshots, and the games played by the very Warps themselves. A favorite game of her is dancing.
A Description. Very Surface.
The ruin lies somewhere within, lit by the everescent light, the many rooms peeking out through the gracious and rounded spires windows doors. Within the ruin within the sanctuary the secret place a secret place not for you a warm feeling of a familiar touch and rest. HOME.
Not a Direct Visual Image
Flurry of motion, continual, flowing, changing. Her eyes don't stay in the same places, and she doesn't have a constant number of limbs. She poises herself on an edge between dyanmicism and stability, for she is usually a spider, very usually with only one known exception. Her very surface is an eruption of black and white, latex shining with triangles in eye-dazzling motion. She has a very charming twist-in-space inside her, where most of her really is. It has a texture like particles being bent into knots until they erupt in a vibrating ecstasy, breaking lesser rules in flavor for greater ones.
A Lie. Unintentional.
A Background Fed to Reader, Collected From Memories Not Actually Sequential
Grace now extends a leg toward the proffered sheet, grasping it in carefully blunted claws. Almost immediately, a story appears, vast, an apparent summary of events that threatens to overflow. She remembers, with a vagueness that suggests meddling with a design to amplify nostilgia and cause pain at forgetting of the rest, a life, of unknown but brief span. Flashes of a life that seems relatively normal to Puzzleboxers...
Then the systems began behaving oddly, with an adruptness. Foreboding, carefully played up. Family, friends, distant, slightly more angry, neurotic, then she notices that she is acting similarly. Disruption increasing. Cornering by her caretaker, with a hungry look and a saw, the pain, mass insanity, personalities unstable and flickering at the slightest hint, obsessions. Banding together for protection, turning into perverse tyrannies, accepting small doses of pain in exchange for protection against greater pain...
Death and rebirth, again and again, pain after pain. Requests, wishes yielding wrong, wrong results, food that cause nausea, poisoning, disease, devices that twist upon oneself. Useful resources becoming scare, fighting, killing for them then the victims returning and killing to take back what is left. Being under others, then changing (rewritten), more cruel, more clever, ruler. Still same tedium, endless violence constant attention, stress, watching the lower ones paranoidly. A wish for freedom from power.
A body so mighty attempts to dominate her fail, a hunger so relentless she cannot dominate others, instead eat them, eat eat eat eat, alone with hunger, no time to talk must eat, The Place's satisifaction pressing the edges through her wounds again and again, loneliness, tedium. Hunt eat hunt eat flee hunt eat hunt eat flee, fear, others worshipped attempted appeasement in vain. Desire for an end, no more violence, rest. Star-eyes staring down, fleeing, SENSE intuition weakness. Tear-push-squirm. And then she was here. The Mess. And, different, more calm. Strange.
A Name-Reciting. Fragmentary Gossip.
Do you know me? What do you think you are to me? Tell us.
- Sometimes Grace might be a Tweener. Or she might not be.
- Twin is her beloved, dear sister who she has many curiosity about the experience of intimate sensations with and thus desires to explore more than she is.
- Flyte is another paramour, wingfield seducer, whispers sweet and silky, and also a good friend.
- Besax is a puzzle particularly in why her sister has so much fondness for him, and why he persists in such tedious pain-inducing. She got bored of it after millenia. He didn't.
- Runa is yet another paramour, curious in many meanings ferret, and good and enjoyable to dance with.
- Zoe is a flirt. A real flirt.
- Sosael is eeriely familiar and too much of a liar. Grace knew her in The Place.
- Robin is vulnerable and inducing occasional protection desires. Also pleasant in intimacy.
- Charlotte and Sophia and Vraiv? are sweet dears and inspirations for her current surface-material, the raccoon-spine pair one she acted in contract-making for.
- Haruki is one who greeted her upon her very first arrival. Many appreciations for the initial impression running truth through her times of becoming a Puzzlebox native.
- Kelil is curiously similar, dissimilar.
- You are unnamed. For the moment. Name yourself or and know her better.
Comments. What Do You Want to Say About Me?
I permit you all to edit and change everything in this entry including this comments section. Congratulations, Lysette, you get coolness points for being the first to defy my previous 'you can edit everything else but the comment section' prohibition. Break those 'who can edit what' boundaries! Go with the Wiki spirit! :)
- "Grace.. She can touch null gravity, she can be a crystal like I was, we've both been a part in the loss of our past.. She is very much like me, yet so wonderfully different from all, even if her components somewhere come from memories I can now recognize. She and I shared a lot together.. She's made me my dress, and I've gifted her being happy for a time, and we both appreciated the wonderful value just in that. She was the first to jack into me, and share, since I've found life again, here in the Mess. I think I care for her deeply.. no, I know I do. She has some sad memories, but she makes me happy to think of her.." space hyena Lysette rambles happily.
All this is pieces in whispers and whispers in pieces.
Yeah, dig it. Slap them skins and feel the jungle walk. Them Beatniks knew what they was sayin', man.