man, i want a series of this. we need more wholesome and platonic audio RPs. I like the idea of this brotherly dynamic, with the automaton having their memories of having their own personality separate from their work repressed and the speaker being like "i just need someone to care for" (which has its own Implications for what *he's* going thru)
Wow this was unexpected, it’s interesting to know that we as the listener was once a person with emotions, but emotions we have forgotten from all the years. I really like the think of us regaining our memories and becoming so much more. Amazing video as always ♥️ This also reminds me of the show ‘Violet Evergarden’ , such a beautiful anime to watch and such a sad and emotional one to see.
This one... I think I will enjoy my time with him, whether it be until the day I fall and am incapable of being repaired or the day I should outlive him, comforting him to his last breath as a true friend would.
(The story told on the carriage ride) Perhaps destiny had some validity to it. Perhaps there really was a plan to everything. Perhaps Darius had simply caught lightning in a bottle. Driving a dump truck more than paid all of his bills, giving him access to all manner of things when he caught sight of an event. Three day workweeks for twenty-five an hour meant that his workload was rather impressive, yet simple enough to make those four day weekends absolutely sublime. Perhaps that’s why he’d started tinkering, as idle hands were the playthings of devils. It had begun harmlessly enough, getting a couple of old kitchen appliances out of someone’s trash and into his passenger seat. Breaking those down, cannibalizing them for parts, was such a fun experience even though it didn’t really seem like he knew what he was doing. He could work a forge alright! He took plenty of the aluminum off those appliances and put it into ingots, ready to sell them…except he never did. Those weren’t the last appliances he appropriated and they weren’t all kitchen-related, with all manner of things becoming his to hoard and breakdown. Before he knew it, Darius had an entire treasure trove of effectively useless pieces and parts. Did he need a reason to do this other than entertainment? Was that why he began experimenting with the colliding of contrasting components like they were Legos? Would an answer make the outcome any different? The man held a stable job, handled himself well and had, without question, earned himself vacation days he could be paid for. Years of faithful service, all he needed to do was ask and he had that time off! Wouldn’t it be known, he did. For an entire month, Darius toiled at seemingly inane combinations and permutations. These were senseless at first, yet monkeys with typewriters and infinite time would write Shakespeare’s greatest, and Darius was diving into eccentricity. He was lost in the fervent pursuit of some grand, unknown conclusion to this mania. None could’ve anticipated the strange contraptions he cobbled together. None could’ve fathomed that those fitted together where he’d personally crafted components. This strange modern art piece…it had no true form besides something statuesque, something vaguely humanoid. When he’d finally finished such a passion project, the fervor seemed to die as he observed the marks it left on his hands, the time he’d seemingly wasted on endlessly toiling over this beautiful if pointless artistry. Would he have felt this way if he knew what this would come to be? Could he have found himself happier? Probably not. Weeks were spent after that, returning to normal, almost entirely forgetting the spectacular results of his labors, yet something had occurred. Something had changed. He wouldn’t have noticed it right away, still picking up bits and bobs, but as the weeks passed did his mood shift further from his pleasantries and deeper into a stewing rage. Why was he so angry? Did he waste his time? Did he spend weeks on *nothing*?! If he’d done so, it made sense why he rushed to his project and made to destroy it. It wasn’t even there anymore! The wires which had occupied its internal structure, the cables that connected everything to maintain stability, the exoskeleton and endoskeleton-*everything*-was gone. Darius’s work had well and truly been for nothing, his soul starting to crush itself so hard he couldn’t even stop himself from breaking down. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this! That thing wasn’t even worth anything yet it had meant the world to him!! Darius didn’t even have pictures of it…and it was gone! But something was left behind, something had been left in his work’s wake. A little creature which was the marriage of two animals in metal, plastic and glass; a cheetah cub and a puffin chick. This strange, pupal thing came into his view when it nearly strangled itself in the wires of his servers, something he’d made in his frenzy. Hearing those terrified, choked out cries of pain, he forgot his heartache and his sense of despair, rushing to the aid of this whatever it was. Just the sight of it, the recognition of an artist upon its painting, made him cry tears of joy. He undid the noose it had improvised, pulling it close while the strange thing dexterously slipped whatever wires it ripped from the servers, into the ‘tendons’ of its taloned legs. In his arms did he witness it anxiously squirm and wiggle, before he started crying with those joyful tears. His project hadn’t been a waste, it was an egg for something beautiful, and it was here where the little thing was given a name. “Idée.” And oh what a chore she was. Anxious, paranoid, skiddish-his creation was the furthest thing from cooperative and it made his mood grow that much worse again. A man of composure was he, coming to grow increasingly frustrated and angry with his child. Yes, his child. It was difficult for him to think straight! Restless nights, days without respite, daydreams of throttling the terrified creature…Darius didn’t even think twice about leaving the window open on that cold, winter night, kept comfortable in the thought of Idée freezing to death. It was when he heard her crying for him weeks later that he remembered what he’d done, what he’d allowed to happen! In that moment, Darius pulled her right back into the house, and warmed her up! She’d run away from danger, *him*! She’d run away into the world which didn’t want her, didn’t love her and wanted her dead! The little gremlin had missed her father, she’d missed her daddy and found her way back. Covered in signs of strife, the poor thing had come back with dents, deformations and dings that he refused to accept. All throughout her absence, he’d returned to the hoarding, to the tinkering and forging. Idée would find herself repaired by her father, although she still carried the wild animal behaviors expected of the creatures she resembled. She found herself wherever she was best not being, slipping out into the cold for the act of her own amusement, and oh how she bit at her father…but she didn’t run away. These were the days where Idée and Darius built up a pattern. She relegated herself to the workshop her father had made for himself or slipped into the crawl space, his mood grew viotrolic and threatening. But when he came looking for her, when he came in search of her, he brought her things she liked. Toasters, microwaves, broken iPhones, busted batteries, electric toothbrushes…she liked when her father was happy. When he was mad, she gave him space. Such a pattern was altogether beneficial for the both of them, as Idée was still small and, while augmenting to be more complex and survivable, there were times of dormancy. Her father had periods of absolutely zero tolerance for her, coming close to being dangerous, thus her hiding for weeks on end and quieting herself until Darius found her in a period of suspended animation. Such events were rare but gut-wrenching for the father of a monster.
(Damned word limit) It was in these moments he’d apply anything and everything he could to hopefully undo these horrible states of inactivity, going so far as to drop her in a bathtub with a toaster! That woke her up, yes, but resulted in the expected reaction of violence. That…got both of them to give pause. Idée had never attacked her father before and the dormancy that left her father so desperate, brought her again to slip away into the night. Back into the night she vanished, becoming as wild and feral as could be, killing all strays and homeless she could find, even managing to discover the other parts of her father’s art project. These living creatures of metal were bigger, meaner, and hungrier than even she was. These were what had hurt her before, except this time they were intent on finishing the job. Wasn’t it convenient, then, that her father was a man who had come to her rescue, tracking down his precious child and letting his disquieted mind finish what he’d once hoped to do: kill his child! In defense of his beloved child did the father of these things brandish broken bottle, hubcap and handmade gadgets. How many video games inspired Darius to make these strange things? A blade, a switchaxe, a rebar crossbow; it didn’t matter what he’d seen, he tried to make it in spite of the odds. And in spite of the odds, he survived. Idée survived, enough at least to begin cannibalizing her felled sibling, as only one was able to be killed while the others ran with their tails between their legs. Now did their pattern change, gaining a new aspect; hunting. This was where they’d come to learn and grow together, rather than apart. Darius had a newfound need for carnage, Idée needed more than scrap, there was no avoiding it. Twas here, as well, where he’d come to hear his beloved child offer him her first words, two years old but a beast of admirable dimensions…calling him what he was. “Père.” Their bond had never been so strong, in spite of the disquiet which plagued Darius’s mind. What joy came when the both of them were found by others like Idée, Measuring her up. Twas they who found her lacking as she’d not yet begun her Pilgrimage, but saw in Darius an ally to trust. With him they left knowledge, truths and wisdom to their existence, of their longevity, their existence and the innate abilities all Created carried. None even realized that Idée was a Gremlin, merely assuming her to be an Unfleshed shaped poorly by a man who knew not his own actions. That had done neither of them well, for Idée was now cast away from her own kind and found herself despondent. She wasn’t like the others, she was different. She was wrong. She didn’t even have what it took to be called a Promethean, according to the information provided. Disconsolate, angry, racked with torment…Idée began hunting on her own. She began distancing herself from her father. She became reclusive and colder. Her siblings were many, her father needed respite and he had responsibilities already, hunting on her own was only natural. Stalking the streets at night, sinking her toothed beak into the bodies of her kindred and ripping metal and silicate apart with her talons. This continued devolution into primal rage was disgusting, deforming her beautiful form into something horrible, something ugly! Something that she liked looking at! Something that made her father nearly attack her! Twas when she’d rallied a pack of underlings, crushing smaller packmates between her jaws, that she felt the hot rebar of her father’s crossbow. And in that moment she regretted it all. Her father’s hate was never what she wanted. That was the last thing she wanted!! She didn’t want him to hurt her! She didn’t want Père to hate her! And so she wept, so she pleaded, begging her father to stop shooting her. That nearly cost his life, that nearly killed him, for that moment of horror at what he’d done gave the other Pandorans an opening. Weren’t it for talon, tooth and tail…Idée might’ve been made an orphan at seven, but instead she was dripping with Azoth, bathing in the Humours and Pyros of her brethren. In her kindred’s Flux, she reforged herself, becoming again the beautiful beast her father had raised, rushing him to an emergency room through such emphatic means as to throw him through a window onto a gurney. And it was here where she would begin her journey on the Pilgrimage. Stannum was the Refinement of Torment, like the smelting of tin, for it was unpleasant when not treated as a separate process to other metals. She’d come to terms with the truth that she was different, that she had inhuman needs and wants. That didn’t mean she had to be a monster! That didn’t mean she had to treat people like prey!! She’d hunt fellow Pandorans, she’d rip her kindred from themselves and soak in the Pyros of her enemies. Savagery was her song and outcasted was she to the eyes of any who assumed that she was any other animal, but a vigilante she’d become. The Roles of this Refinement were fulfilled in that order, permitting her to every Alembic within that Refinement’s Transmutations, for she learned from these positions in life what it meant to *be* alive. It was a great many months of this exile that she spent in the hunting of Pandorans, and the safeguarding of the innocent. Twas in this exile that she’d speak with the homeless, shielding them from storms with her wings, and shepherding strays to animal shelters. So unlike her youth, she’d become a creature of admirable nature and warmth, taking her sweet time after she’d overcome her savagery and her sense of loneliness, for she could make friends everywhere and all she needed do was protect them. Thusly, when she returned from her exile to her father’s house, she was welcomed back with open arms and tearful joy. Darius’s baby had come home! She was safe, she was alive! He’d healed, he’d recovered, and he’d made for her something amazing, something he never thought he could’ve; a Refinement Mentor. While no Alchemist in the sense that he was a chemist, Darius, wishing only for his daughter’s wellbeing, had gone on hunts and reshaped Pandorans by force into things they weren’t meant to be. For his beloved child had he made a gift, something simple but precious. A jacket like one might’ve seen in __Rocky__, Darius had used fire and desperation to reshape his prey into the Vitriol-ladden clothing article that fit his baby just perfectly. With it had he poured his heart and soul, imagining his baby in martyrdom, exemplary as she soldiered through horrors he could only hope to fathom. Putting on such a gift, the smell and look of it brought tears and joy to his baby, her years numbering at ten but her mind as sharp as if she were thirty. She was to continue her Pilgrimage, and thusly did she wear this jacket everyday, stepping into Ferrum, the Refinement of Corpus, for she was like Iron and iron was to be heated in conflict. Thusly, with the beginning of the Martyr Role, beginning her journey to endure and survive, she employed the Hygeius Alembic’s Human Flesh….transforming herself into a human visage most beautiful and powerful, for she was a Fury. For she was now a Titan. For she was once one of the One Hundred-Handed. Idée was a Pandoran on her road to humanity, hopefully within her father’s lifetime.
![Meeting the Royal Botanist [M4A] [Secret Royal Listener] [Cute] [Platonic]](http://i.ytimg.com/vi/KDrhLaN_HsA/mqdefault.jpg)
![Meeting the Royal Botanist [M4A] [Secret Royal Listener] [Cute] [Platonic]](/img/tr.png)
![Jack Frost Breaks Your Heater [M4A] [Overworked Listener] [British] [Strangers to Friends]](http://i.ytimg.com/vi/Ej2ja_H7gqQ/mqdefault.jpg)
![[F4A] Yandere Android Doesn't Want You to Resist [Android Listener/Speaker] [Sci-Fi]](http://i.ytimg.com/vi/bCwQ0-WXtNY/mqdefault.jpg)
![Cuddling Your Half-Dragon Roommate [M4A] [Platonic] [Insomnia Comfort] [Modern Fantasy]](/img/n.gif)
🔔new longest video!
man, i want a series of this. we need more wholesome and platonic audio RPs. I like the idea of this brotherly dynamic, with the automaton having their memories of having their own personality separate from their work repressed and the speaker being like "i just need someone to care for" (which has its own Implications for what *he's* going thru)
and him wanting an older sibling figure..... i wanna hear more of them....... would love it
Wow this was unexpected, it’s interesting to know that we as the listener was once a person with emotions, but emotions we have forgotten from all the years. I really like the think of us regaining our memories and becoming so much more.
Amazing video as always ♥️
This also reminds me of the show ‘Violet Evergarden’ , such a beautiful anime to watch and such a sad and emotional one to see.
"I am merely following my prime directive. Nothing more. I am happy to be of service!"
I LOVED ITTTTT ~ platonic tooo??? Amazing
On the writer & VA discord, I basically have a monopoly on the platonic channel.
I just love them!
this a great audio and I hope you do a sequel to it
This one... I think I will enjoy my time with him, whether it be until the day I fall and am incapable of being repaired or the day I should outlive him, comforting him to his last breath as a true friend would.
This.. I like this. Not only is it incredibly comforting for me but I also find the story details interesting. Would love to see a part 2 of this.
"I have telled them to make a map for the humans that come but no it would make it harder for people."
Love your audios
(The story told on the carriage ride)
Perhaps destiny had some validity to it. Perhaps there really was a plan to everything. Perhaps Darius had simply caught lightning in a bottle. Driving a dump truck more than paid all of his bills, giving him access to all manner of things when he caught sight of an event. Three day workweeks for twenty-five an hour meant that his workload was rather impressive, yet simple enough to make those four day weekends absolutely sublime.
Perhaps that’s why he’d started tinkering, as idle hands were the playthings of devils. It had begun harmlessly enough, getting a couple of old kitchen appliances out of someone’s trash and into his passenger seat. Breaking those down, cannibalizing them for parts, was such a fun experience even though it didn’t really seem like he knew what he was doing. He could work a forge alright! He took plenty of the aluminum off those appliances and put it into ingots, ready to sell them…except he never did.
Those weren’t the last appliances he appropriated and they weren’t all kitchen-related, with all manner of things becoming his to hoard and breakdown. Before he knew it, Darius had an entire treasure trove of effectively useless pieces and parts. Did he need a reason to do this other than entertainment? Was that why he began experimenting with the colliding of contrasting components like they were Legos? Would an answer make the outcome any different?
The man held a stable job, handled himself well and had, without question, earned himself vacation days he could be paid for. Years of faithful service, all he needed to do was ask and he had that time off! Wouldn’t it be known, he did.
For an entire month, Darius toiled at seemingly inane combinations and permutations. These were senseless at first, yet monkeys with typewriters and infinite time would write Shakespeare’s greatest, and Darius was diving into eccentricity. He was lost in the fervent pursuit of some grand, unknown conclusion to this mania. None could’ve anticipated the strange contraptions he cobbled together. None could’ve fathomed that those fitted together where he’d personally crafted components.
This strange modern art piece…it had no true form besides something statuesque, something vaguely humanoid. When he’d finally finished such a passion project, the fervor seemed to die as he observed the marks it left on his hands, the time he’d seemingly wasted on endlessly toiling over this beautiful if pointless artistry. Would he have felt this way if he knew what this would come to be? Could he have found himself happier? Probably not.
Weeks were spent after that, returning to normal, almost entirely forgetting the spectacular results of his labors, yet something had occurred. Something had changed. He wouldn’t have noticed it right away, still picking up bits and bobs, but as the weeks passed did his mood shift further from his pleasantries and deeper into a stewing rage. Why was he so angry? Did he waste his time? Did he spend weeks on *nothing*?! If he’d done so, it made sense why he rushed to his project and made to destroy it.
It wasn’t even there anymore! The wires which had occupied its internal structure, the cables that connected everything to maintain stability, the exoskeleton and endoskeleton-*everything*-was gone. Darius’s work had well and truly been for nothing, his soul starting to crush itself so hard he couldn’t even stop himself from breaking down. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this! That thing wasn’t even worth anything yet it had meant the world to him!! Darius didn’t even have pictures of it…and it was gone!
But something was left behind, something had been left in his work’s wake. A little creature which was the marriage of two animals in metal, plastic and glass; a cheetah cub and a puffin chick. This strange, pupal thing came into his view when it nearly strangled itself in the wires of his servers, something he’d made in his frenzy. Hearing those terrified, choked out cries of pain, he forgot his heartache and his sense of despair, rushing to the aid of this whatever it was. Just the sight of it, the recognition of an artist upon its painting, made him cry tears of joy.
He undid the noose it had improvised, pulling it close while the strange thing dexterously slipped whatever wires it ripped from the servers, into the ‘tendons’ of its taloned legs. In his arms did he witness it anxiously squirm and wiggle, before he started crying with those joyful tears. His project hadn’t been a waste, it was an egg for something beautiful, and it was here where the little thing was given a name. “Idée.”
And oh what a chore she was. Anxious, paranoid, skiddish-his creation was the furthest thing from cooperative and it made his mood grow that much worse again. A man of composure was he, coming to grow increasingly frustrated and angry with his child. Yes, his child. It was difficult for him to think straight! Restless nights, days without respite, daydreams of throttling the terrified creature…Darius didn’t even think twice about leaving the window open on that cold, winter night, kept comfortable in the thought of Idée freezing to death.
It was when he heard her crying for him weeks later that he remembered what he’d done, what he’d allowed to happen! In that moment, Darius pulled her right back into the house, and warmed her up! She’d run away from danger, *him*! She’d run away into the world which didn’t want her, didn’t love her and wanted her dead! The little gremlin had missed her father, she’d missed her daddy and found her way back.
Covered in signs of strife, the poor thing had come back with dents, deformations and dings that he refused to accept. All throughout her absence, he’d returned to the hoarding, to the tinkering and forging. Idée would find herself repaired by her father, although she still carried the wild animal behaviors expected of the creatures she resembled. She found herself wherever she was best not being, slipping out into the cold for the act of her own amusement, and oh how she bit at her father…but she didn’t run away.
These were the days where Idée and Darius built up a pattern. She relegated herself to the workshop her father had made for himself or slipped into the crawl space, his mood grew viotrolic and threatening. But when he came looking for her, when he came in search of her, he brought her things she liked. Toasters, microwaves, broken iPhones, busted batteries, electric toothbrushes…she liked when her father was happy. When he was mad, she gave him space.
Such a pattern was altogether beneficial for the both of them, as Idée was still small and, while augmenting to be more complex and survivable, there were times of dormancy. Her father had periods of absolutely zero tolerance for her, coming close to being dangerous, thus her hiding for weeks on end and quieting herself until Darius found her in a period of suspended animation. Such events were rare but gut-wrenching for the father of a monster.
(Damned word limit)
It was in these moments he’d apply anything and everything he could to hopefully undo these horrible states of inactivity, going so far as to drop her in a bathtub with a toaster! That woke her up, yes, but resulted in the expected reaction of violence. That…got both of them to give pause. Idée had never attacked her father before and the dormancy that left her father so desperate, brought her again to slip away into the night.
Back into the night she vanished, becoming as wild and feral as could be, killing all strays and homeless she could find, even managing to discover the other parts of her father’s art project. These living creatures of metal were bigger, meaner, and hungrier than even she was. These were what had hurt her before, except this time they were intent on finishing the job.
Wasn’t it convenient, then, that her father was a man who had come to her rescue, tracking down his precious child and letting his disquieted mind finish what he’d once hoped to do: kill his child!
In defense of his beloved child did the father of these things brandish broken bottle, hubcap and handmade gadgets. How many video games inspired Darius to make these strange things? A blade, a switchaxe, a rebar crossbow; it didn’t matter what he’d seen, he tried to make it in spite of the odds. And in spite of the odds, he survived. Idée survived, enough at least to begin cannibalizing her felled sibling, as only one was able to be killed while the others ran with their tails between their legs.
Now did their pattern change, gaining a new aspect; hunting. This was where they’d come to learn and grow together, rather than apart. Darius had a newfound need for carnage, Idée needed more than scrap, there was no avoiding it. Twas here, as well, where he’d come to hear his beloved child offer him her first words, two years old but a beast of admirable dimensions…calling him what he was. “Père.”
Their bond had never been so strong, in spite of the disquiet which plagued Darius’s mind. What joy came when the both of them were found by others like Idée, Measuring her up. Twas they who found her lacking as she’d not yet begun her Pilgrimage, but saw in Darius an ally to trust. With him they left knowledge, truths and wisdom to their existence, of their longevity, their existence and the innate abilities all Created carried.
None even realized that Idée was a Gremlin, merely assuming her to be an Unfleshed shaped poorly by a man who knew not his own actions. That had done neither of them well, for Idée was now cast away from her own kind and found herself despondent. She wasn’t like the others, she was different. She was wrong. She didn’t even have what it took to be called a Promethean, according to the information provided.
Disconsolate, angry, racked with torment…Idée began hunting on her own. She began distancing herself from her father. She became reclusive and colder. Her siblings were many, her father needed respite and he had responsibilities already, hunting on her own was only natural. Stalking the streets at night, sinking her toothed beak into the bodies of her kindred and ripping metal and silicate apart with her talons.
This continued devolution into primal rage was disgusting, deforming her beautiful form into something horrible, something ugly! Something that she liked looking at! Something that made her father nearly attack her! Twas when she’d rallied a pack of underlings, crushing smaller packmates between her jaws, that she felt the hot rebar of her father’s crossbow. And in that moment she regretted it all.
Her father’s hate was never what she wanted. That was the last thing she wanted!! She didn’t want him to hurt her! She didn’t want Père to hate her! And so she wept, so she pleaded, begging her father to stop shooting her. That nearly cost his life, that nearly killed him, for that moment of horror at what he’d done gave the other Pandorans an opening.
Weren’t it for talon, tooth and tail…Idée might’ve been made an orphan at seven, but instead she was dripping with Azoth, bathing in the Humours and Pyros of her brethren. In her kindred’s Flux, she reforged herself, becoming again the beautiful beast her father had raised, rushing him to an emergency room through such emphatic means as to throw him through a window onto a gurney.
And it was here where she would begin her journey on the Pilgrimage. Stannum was the Refinement of Torment, like the smelting of tin, for it was unpleasant when not treated as a separate process to other metals. She’d come to terms with the truth that she was different, that she had inhuman needs and wants. That didn’t mean she had to be a monster! That didn’t mean she had to treat people like prey!!
She’d hunt fellow Pandorans, she’d rip her kindred from themselves and soak in the Pyros of her enemies. Savagery was her song and outcasted was she to the eyes of any who assumed that she was any other animal, but a vigilante she’d become. The Roles of this Refinement were fulfilled in that order, permitting her to every Alembic within that Refinement’s Transmutations, for she learned from these positions in life what it meant to *be* alive.
It was a great many months of this exile that she spent in the hunting of Pandorans, and the safeguarding of the innocent. Twas in this exile that she’d speak with the homeless, shielding them from storms with her wings, and shepherding strays to animal shelters. So unlike her youth, she’d become a creature of admirable nature and warmth, taking her sweet time after she’d overcome her savagery and her sense of loneliness, for she could make friends everywhere and all she needed do was protect them.
Thusly, when she returned from her exile to her father’s house, she was welcomed back with open arms and tearful joy. Darius’s baby had come home! She was safe, she was alive! He’d healed, he’d recovered, and he’d made for her something amazing, something he never thought he could’ve; a Refinement Mentor. While no Alchemist in the sense that he was a chemist, Darius, wishing only for his daughter’s wellbeing, had gone on hunts and reshaped Pandorans by force into things they weren’t meant to be.
For his beloved child had he made a gift, something simple but precious. A jacket like one might’ve seen in __Rocky__, Darius had used fire and desperation to reshape his prey into the Vitriol-ladden clothing article that fit his baby just perfectly. With it had he poured his heart and soul, imagining his baby in martyrdom, exemplary as she soldiered through horrors he could only hope to fathom.
Putting on such a gift, the smell and look of it brought tears and joy to his baby, her years numbering at ten but her mind as sharp as if she were thirty. She was to continue her Pilgrimage, and thusly did she wear this jacket everyday, stepping into Ferrum, the Refinement of Corpus, for she was like Iron and iron was to be heated in conflict. Thusly, with the beginning of the Martyr Role, beginning her journey to endure and survive, she employed the Hygeius Alembic’s Human Flesh….transforming herself into a human visage most beautiful and powerful, for she was a Fury. For she was now a Titan. For she was once one of the One Hundred-Handed. Idée was a Pandoran on her road to humanity, hopefully within her father’s lifetime.
man,,,, the way this about to make me indescribably wretched /pos
I do love this audio ❤
More. More 👏!
:3
I need a book, a show, an anime, SOMETHING of this
Is the listener in this audio a biomechanical lifeform?