....she did so much...

A cozy living room above the kitchen.
A comforting feeling of privacy pervades the area. Eleven steps, all different dimensions and carved from dark ravenwood lead to a comfortable little living area. Dark floors contrast the gentle green shade painted on the walls, and bright, flickering wall sconces. A curved ceiling looks as if it has been scooped directly out of a tree, and thick support joists criss-cross the expanse. Delicate muslin curtains cover either window and barely touch the floor. On both window sills sit half a dozen tiny planters with newly sprouting flowers and herbs inside. Three plain oak doors typically stand closed, but whiffs of lavender and petrichor can be detected when they open, briefly displacing the delicious smells of the kitchen below. The diminutive size, low lighting, and soothing colors of this room invoke a sense of ease and respite. An elegant wall sconce featuring numerous large poppies juts from the wall, holding a flickering candle. A heavy canvas couch has been shoved into a corner of the room, a plethora of purple and red poppies brightening the room. A tapestry depicting the creation of the lyrebird is proudly hanging here. A lush beige carpet is spread out on the ground. There are 2 elegantly carved ravenwood armchairs here. A beautiful couch here glitters with autumn gemstone leaves. A small dark brown tea table stands here. A painting of Gurashi and the Racist Dartboard is proudly exhibited on a nearby wall. A gilded pedestal, displaying a painting of A Stack of Cats, stands here, its gold leaf cracked and weathered. A gilded pedestal, displaying a painting of The Seal Of Approval, stands here, its gold leaf cracked and weathered. A shimmering blue circle floats in the room here.
You see exits leading east (open door), southeast (closed door), southwest (closed door), and down (closed door).

You have emoted: Gurashi silently sinks to sit on a soft couch decorated with needlepoint poppies, resting his hands on either side of him. He stares tiredly at the floor, scanning the dark narrow gaps in the floorboards, the slightest bit of wear starting to show where the most traffic goes through. He stares, unfocused, leaning forward, listening to the unusual quiet that seems to have settled into his manse...

You sit yourself down on a soft couch decorated with needlepoint poppies and make yourself comfortable.

You think to yourself: ...... *the image of a wall of vines comes to fruition - bright and green, curled, solid. Still here. A tentative chirr, echoing faintly and met with no response*.

You think to yourself: ... Miss Khep?

You think to yourself: / *silence. Only gentle thrumming hive sounds* /.

The gray light of morning bleeds through the branches of the Ravenwood trees.

You have emoted: Gurashi grips the edge of the couch, eyes shut as he leans further forward.

You think to yourself: *a lack of response... a sense of unease.... the vines continue to stand resolute, occupying the majority of the mindscape, encompassing this personal little circle...*.

The faintest hint of poppies coils out of the nearby poppy covered wall sconce, candle flickering softly.

You have emoted: Gurashi inhales deeply the subtle fragrance of the sconce, looking more relaxed.

You think to yourself: ...... can do this, oh yes. *continued hesitation, growing fear - the vines begin to unwind, just barely, in the smallest, closest spot, just bit enough for a hand to slip through...... silence, watching for colors, for changes, listening for sounds*.

You think to yourself: *no Bizi to gauge. No Tridemon to guide.*.

You think to yourself: .... *a continued sense of trepidation - suddenly, the tossing of a mental stone, through the tiny space, skipping silently across the black emptiness of the mindscape.... silence.... *.

You think to yourself: .... am not dead? Is O-K, O-k O-K O-K. **an anxious chitter... the hole begins to grow, vines twisting and writhing and unfurling to form an archway like they had the night before* O-K, not far, not out of arm's reach, O-K...

You think to yourself: *each step more timid than the last... moving forward, ducking to move through the little archway ... It feels different. So much bigger and emptier. Like aetherspace. Or a Void... attention draws to the vines, gaze coming to rest on the exterior walls..... suddenly, shock, and a sinking feeling*.

A gust of wind carries on it the pleasant warmth of the noon day sun and the tranquil song of insects.

You think to yourself: *a step forward, one hand extended to keep touch on the vines at all time, a sense of awe and disbelief as he looks upon the vines.... *.

You think to yourself: *The wall looks entirely different on the outside than it does from within. Green hacked to bits, large swaths of vines missing, chunks hacked loose, some barely holding together by a thread, withered and dead. Splashes of color mar the perfect viridescent form, angry splashes of reds and anxious mauve, orange, blue* .... what....

Beads of sweat break out on your face.

You think to yourself: Oh... my gosh..... *The hand nears but does not dare touch the damaged sections, fingers grazing over the air. It is apparent the thorns did little to deter the interloper. What about the other colors?? Spots of bright orange-red cling to the sharpest ends of thorns, evidence of a struggle* ....she did so much...

A swirling energy suddenly manifests around you and collapses inward, briefly taking the shape of a wet fold origami before it vanishes, leaving you curiously refreshed.

Wooden wind chimes can be heard clunking gently together as a breeze moves through.

You think to yourself: *the slow motion of reaching out to finally graze fingers over the colorful disaster - oh--*.

You think to yourself: *--fingers brushing over splashes of red - pain. So much suffering. A deep, painful loss. Something taken away, gone forever. irreparable--*.

You have emoted: Tears spring to Gurashi's eyes, spilling over his cheeks as he opens his mouth, unable to move from his spot.

The soft tinkling of seashell wind chimes is carried in on a warm breeze.

You think to yourself: *--fingers trace over mauve, now... ahhh, this pain is fuel for your rage. You cannot feel anything else. You don't know how else to express it. You don't know what else to do. It isn't fair, and it isn't right, and HE shouldn't have gotten to live--*.

You have emoted: Gurashi brings a hand to his face, cupping it over his mouth to stifle the sound rising in his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter, furrowing his brow, moving on.

You think to yourself: *--the orange... you see flailing limbs, arching back and swinging down, striking the barrier with weapons, and when weapons break, with fists. Thorns tearing at chitin, but it doesn't matter, you don't feel it. You want to get in, and you want to get to him, and you want to wrap your hands around his throat and rend him from limb to limb--*.

You have emoted: Gurashi's breath catches as he starts, wrapping his arms across his chest as he embraces himself.

You think to yourself: *the hand moves away from the color - oh, oh that wasn't very pleasant...*.

You think to yourself: ...this is not somebody that loves me.... *the hand touches the vine again, gently taking a single tendril that has been left hanging by a thread. It doesn't respond to the touch, withered, crumbling as it is handled* ...hmm.

You think to yourself: *the ashes from the vine crumble on an invisible wind as he drops his hands, continuing.... there is the other shade ... a blue... hesitance...*.

You think to yourself: *the hand bobs, uncertain, before offering a gentle touch, fingers barely brushing over the blue--*.

You think to yourself: **a familiar deafening voice, unlocked with the contact - gentle, mournful, crooning** 'YOU WOULD HAVE MADE US SO PROUD ... '

You think to yourself: *drowned out by the spoken voice* this persons is hurting so much.... what happened .... *softer yet* what happened--.

You think to yourself: **a swelling sense of grief** 'DUTY COMES FIRST... DUTY ALWAYS COMES FIRST... ' **the cries are overpowering, causing the vines to tremble**.

You think to yourself: *...this color is..... sharp, and stabbing - jealous. embarrassed. It is hard to face, it's familiarity staring you down. This is not a good feeling. Directed at you. Me. Me? Why are you jealous of me what did I do--*.

The gray light of morning bleeds through the branches of the Ravenwood trees.

You think to yourself: **shrill** ' IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU ' **jealous because you took him. jealous your dreams were more important than hers**.

You have emoted: Gurashi finally opens his eyes, a pained expression on his face as he reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose, head splitting with pain.

You think to yourself: *...these feelings are all so much, so big and they hurt so deeply. I did this? To another persons? Took someone? How can take someone, how can--*.

You think to yourself: **a flash of color, colors, oranges and yellows, and a blob, an impression of a crumpled shape on the ground, unmoving, unmoving because you know it is dead, and that is unfair, unFAIR, and the familiar raging voice wailing, a banshee cry, ear splitting, so sad so -sad- oh she has lost someone oh she... no ... WE have lost someone... we have lost someone, someone so so precious-- **.

You think to yourself: *fingers trail away from the color blue, detaching, left hanging limp at his sides. The blank mindspace behind him throbs in its silence. The vines before him are now almost completely de-saturated, rich greens replaced with a sad gray*.

You think to yourself: ....... oh, no ...

You think to yourself: ... no no - no think I -hurt- someone.

You have emoted: Gurashi stares at his feet, dropping his hand and again wrapping his arms around himself, looking very uncomfortable. "...or got them hurt...?"

You think to yourself: *there is something there... a door that cannot be opened. A veil that cannot be gone through. Heaviness.. uncertainty...... a desire to both know more, and forget what has already been learned*.

You think to yourself: *what to do what to do... hands raise, looking at the sad vines, urging them to regrow, to shed off the dead and discolored for new protection, new thorns...the process is tedious and accompanied with a hanging sense of guilt*.

You think to yourself: *The wall is repaired, for the most part. The color is still dull and the thorns are short and poorly constructed. It will have to do... another cautious glance out into nothingness before returning inside, the barrier closing behind*.

You have emoted: Gurashi sniffs, wiping his still wet eyes with the back of his hand. A longing for Bizirik. Loneliness without the other kephera. The absence of oceanic sounds. Only the quiet of the manse remains. "....Mm, please come back safely," He mutters, lifting his legs and laying down on the couch. He drapes an arm over his eyes, stilling his breaths and trying to will away the headache that's sprung forth from this endeavor.