My love affair with 750words.com began with the need to express compulsory, hafta-get-out ideas on the fly but not without some thought put into it. I guess. I’m about 6 or 7 days in, and it took that long just to get to that point. (Guess I had some things I had to get off my chest first.) Anyway, this is the viewpoint of Lycoriast, after he’s fallen, broken and been resurrected. It was easy because Lycoriast is kinda wonky to begin with but when he sets about his new life, he only gets weirder.
Only dear lys had never hurt him never been bad what was so terrible about a guy who had helped him so far I mean sure he had seen dear lys do some terrible things but nothing he hadn’t witnessed humans do on multiple occasions so if he were to go and get this guy to wake up what could be the worst that would happen they poke fun at each others antics and what else right what else
The desert contained heat he never understood outside the confines of a sloppy healthless hell it was hot like that but not in the same atmosphere like his skin was hypersensitive to disparities in ambit pressure it was the concisenesss of the heat that startled him and in the end really distracted him because outside of oppression oppressive heat like the blackness he felt continually surrounding him at all times it was foreign and quiescent liquescent moving from one fiber of his skin at a time to another the distraction it offered kept his mind moving with it like a line of stealthy little fire stones wisps of strings left in the vortex of another universe.
He chewed his lips and set his face forward forward like the way he was facing a north North the feel of magnetic attraction gathering more fibers with small microwaves of warmth times a fifth of air drier than the mind had to be to contain such anomalous androgynous smooth strings gossamer weeds that was norther bound and just before him and obstruction huge like the hieghts of earth was huge like man made structures they achieved for the sake of saying they could it blocked silhouettes of fibers of heat and time and magnitude and electricity and almost everything except for his very own self and it was the pyramid that he’d been told about yeah he knew it but didn’t want to acknowledge it.
This is where azazel was that was his name azazel dear lys had very specifically ensured that he knew the ins and outs of the name azazel it’s meaning and girth and even a bit of its history but never the man behind it only Lycoriast was sure so sure that he had not been sent universes away to awaken a mere man but who’s to say what he knew who’s to say what dear lys’ intentions were who’s to say he wasn’t a man this azazel.
Except for very fiber of threaded darkness and round hurtful cell to move in the world beyond his sight said so said THIS IS THE PLACE WHERE EVIL MAY MAKE ITS HOME THIS IS THE PLACE WHERE THE DEAD HAVE LIVED FOR ETERNITIES and that was his only guess but he knew it to be true and he knew the worlds were within his power to move to hold to manipulate to twist away into folded little half versions of themselves in order to free this creature of blackness and corruption the way he had never known before this moment that he would.
As far as he was concerned Lycoriast had had his work cut out for him as long as the universe the atmosphere the world kept telling him where to look where to place his circle he had done all he could and would until something else came at him and from the way the heat and darkness and magnetism and worth was moving in stilted undulations around him he had another unrelated feeling that he may not get to accomplish dear lys’ lite favor for him but so long as he tried he would do what was within his power.
Which in fact was a lot the ability to dig into entire weaves of time and space just to find this one man this one example of hatred and evil that he for some reason did not fear the way he knew he should fear it but nothing formed in him a more complete peace than his current body defiled from the inside out a peace that fear could not overcome or maybe more appropriate was the fact that he let himself remain ignorant to the factors of his movement yes he knew azazel the name the man the history but he did not acknowledge the harm within.
Ignorance is bliss so long as he had been forced to endure this life without the blessings of the things he held closest to him love light ero and the will to behold them in their true forms he may as well dig his claws into the sandy cruddy siding of the pyramid at his feet and set to work freeing azazel and his wicked before the fabric of the molecules moving around him began to bend and weave in its telltale way.