Yellow Eyes. Yellow. Black Mouth. Black Innards. Self sewing back together. Little Strings of black stitching. Finer than any silk. The Head is reattached. The burns are disappearing. Even as water pours out of the wounds we... I inflicted. He is a walking corpse. He is Azoth. They are Azoth. Azoth is so much more than I could have possibly imagined.
They are in darkness, under moonlight and stars. Black Coats and white knives beckoning me forward. Soon now, so soon. The chattering of the things inside them, pulling strings. Guided by the Violet Light. Just go with them. We must just go with them and see the end of this. I'm tired. I quit. Why even bother anymore? Why? Why do we all resist.
Safety in death. Purpose in death. Mind. Sound. Silence. Quiet. The Brute in the Quiet shall feed. It. He. Father they called it. Maybe mine now?
The Red. The King. The Piper. The Jester. The Queen. The Gardener. The Fire Witch. The Pattern Juggler. The Keeper of the City's Keys. Lock. Key. Opening Eden. Swallowed by Silence. Power of a Dead God. Godhood.
It makes so much more sense now. I saw behind the curtain without context but now... Now I see. Dancing Lights beneath Gods. Above Quiet. The Valet of God. The Attendants of God. Brilliant flashes of beautiful, horrible lights of every color and more. They are eyes, ears, life and soul. But without a vessel, impotent. He is a vessel. That is why. The Yellow Eyes. Amber in the sunlight. Father of Monsters, not of blood, but of spirit. They do not know death. They write the laws we all obey, and thus are not bound by them. They rewrite them when it suits them. Yes...
It makes so much more sense now.