Copyright (c) 2014 Riley Marengo
TO THE TEAM :: Hello Team! I apologize for not messaging on our Skype forum, but I have lost access to wireless internet for my own computers and had to resort to using public access computers which have proven both inefficient and slow, so not alot gets done. If you haven't been reading my posts, I don't know what to tell you. I'm working on getting internet back and will be messaging you individually when I have more time.
To the PUBLIC :: Here are some new updates on the character's backstories and personalities in Psychadica:
Vairra’s Journal entry 1
I learned to write much faster than I was supposed to. It was just as fast that I learned to conceal my ability to aquire skills. Why should I have to was the biggest battle of my life. “Why should I have to withold myself from acheivement and advancement when I could accel far beyond this worlds expectations? When I could not only write history, and make a new version of which I can dictate, but I can reform the perception of the world– rewrite imagination–?
I struggled with this because it was my desire to excel far beyond the life of drudgery. I look at the world in both apathy and pity, as I feel nothing for something which can offer me nothing, but I feel sorry for something that can never surpass the state that it is in without some sort of cataclysmic intervention.
And all of this is why I am the way I am because of my gift. I am the only living psychic on our Aerth that can see the future. Its unimaginible to the psychics because they can understand the complexities of the world. They understand things that humans will never know because they have the ability to understand things as well as the ability to admit that they don’t. But they don’t believe me. They can’t. They believe that they is simply too many variables that can change the future to be able to accurately predict it.
The thing is that I can see the absolute version of the future because I am not calculating anything that isn’t the absolute truth. I’m not actuallly doing any of the work at all. When the mind tries to intervene and solve a problem itself, it has the ability to misinterpret signals and disrupt any correct path of circutry or the natural fluid motions. It underestimates. It over estimates. It tries to mix the truth with its own interpretation of the truth. The paradigm poisons the tangible because it always defeats it through paradox. I don’t allow myself to think about what I see. I allow my body to be an absorbant of the world around. I soak up all the knowledge and all the information. I’m not aone of a kind. I am a clairavoyant- one with the ability to understand the phsycics and the functions of my surroundings. I am just the leading frontier of a new kind of psionic. I don’t concern myself with competition, nor do I have any desire to make it happen. My life is a secret to the world. Yet it seems that my constant practice of my innovation has left me with its own unique markings.
It is well known that our kind- the psy- have a unique opaque skin quality and texture. It makes some of us look porcelien, and other look as if they wear a gel layer ontop of pale skin. It can be disgusting to look at even. We resemble humans in form, but our outer layers are a definite signal that we are beyond. Its no wonder we are hated sometimes. It is as if we are creatures from a distant star trying to pretend we are of this world. But I know my kind. I know we can’t help this feature, and it hurts to be someone who is unchangably unnacceptable. Most Psy put a white cream over thier faces to cover up the gel-like layer. It can almost succeed in making one of us look like a sickly human. Some of the other psy’s paste sealeo skin to thier face and paint over that, which has a better effect, but it renders the psionic abilities less effective exponentially, as our skin is this way to absorb the light of our star and use to fuel the incredible feats we can accomplish.
My skin is incredibly unique. It is not one or the other, but it can be both. Like I dilute my natural skin the moment I use my gifts. I abosrb and use imediately. I cannot store energy. That would require too much cellular mass. No, Instead I convert it and burn through consistantly my ability. That ability to burst can increase my thought processing power nearly twelve times the original.
My skin completeley dissapears, and even my bones seem to be clearer then most. I have deemed to calling myself Pvondur Vai’irra, which means Body of crystilline. Most people call me simply Vaiirra, or the crystilline girl.
Zado’s Journal Entry 1
I love my name. Zado. It has a ringing of greatness to it. You could hollar it down a long hall, loud and slow, and the echoes would feel so sweet when they return. They would shake me from the inside and comfort what ever form of life is in me.
I find it amusing to be arrogant and selfish. Its a game to me. Its not actually a real trait I have, but it definitely is fun to role with. Some people would find it odd or offputting, but I don’t care. I don’t value ‘emotions’ or however people hold themselves. I’ve seen slaves rise up to men in my lifetime, and I’ve seen men cower to dh’ogs, or fight like viscious nova. It all changes and its moment to moment. How can you value you that? What does it gain you to waste yourself on every small detail? No. Its always been the bigger picture for me. I have always been satisfied to know that everything I’m doing is leading to something.
I’ve been around thousands of psy’s. And unlike them, I’ve never been dissatisfied with my ‘gifts’. I love mine. I cherish mine. It is the only thing that helps me sleep at night. Why wouldn’t ot? It lets me know that I’m safe. It lets me know that I am the only one around.
Clairavoyance. If it were a girl, I’d marry her, and I wouldn’t get off her until she begged.
Oh, you don’t know how sweet it is to know everything. You don’t know what its like to have so much power. I don’t envy you. I urge you to envy me, though. I love it when people send off thier emotions, thier pheremones. It makes them so easy to control.
I had so much fun growing up. Every word was a science project, every expression was a subliminal message. Twist this way, get this result. Twist that way, get a different result entirely. It took me years to learn myself. I assume that it is more difficult to be a human. They don’t have the access to the knowledge that I do. I have knowledge of many things. What is sturdy, what is hollow. What is capable for life, what is not. What is a fatal mistake and what is a truth. I convinced people I could read thier minds. I just heard thier pulses, I just read thier scent, I just tasted thier words. Were they bitter? Were they sweet? Were they true? Were they lies?
I admit. My mind can seem a little dark. I do regret reserving a little self control at an earlier age, but I didn’t know any better. Scars are a great teacher, but they also are a perfect way to ruin the skin forever.
I feel that way about my Aerth. The ground beneath me is like my skin and the sky is like the hairs on my neck. Its all a part of me. I am sad when it is hurt. Yet whay am I so happy when I destroy it?
I struggle to stop myself from letting my mind wonder off into the self psychological analyzing. It makes me think to hard about the wrong things. Makes me waste time and energy on trying to understand something I don’t neccessarily need to understand.
I have never felt I needed to understand myself to be good at what I do. I don’t think on it because I know that I can accomplish great things and not know a thing about the details. People who get obseessed with them are like parasites. They suck up too many resources to accomplish too meaningal of tasks in a justification for survival. I has a parasite once. I ripped it from my flesh and I sucked the blood out of it. Taking back what was mine.
I’m curious, now. Would a parasite be able to transfer my power to someone else?
Oh, now this I must find out.
Aegis’s Journal Entry One
I preferred being a slave, I think. It was less thinking. It was less responsibility. You just did your job or you got beat. There was none of this complicated thinking or this “always trying to rise above yourself” way of life. I had no regard for others back then. I never had friends because everyone was always wondering why I was talking to them and trying to communicate with them. You know, putting them on the spotlight. Things like that. They were always cold. They’d look at me like I was stupid and like I was doing something I shouldn’tve been. What I bring that up for is that they still do that same thing. Except not to me. I’m this great ‘hero’ in thier eyes. I have to be treated differently, to them.
I just hate it because its like its a mindless action they take. Like its natural to them to see me and to think I always deserve a compliment just because I fought in the most winning battles. They don’t understand what it takes from me to survive.
I didn’t fight in the most winning battles to them, I won those battles. All of them. In thier eyes. They don’t see the fear in the enemy. They do know that I see the life running before thier eyes when I stand above them. They don’t care for whoever fought next to me and put more effort or more sacrifice into thier actions. They see me. They make carved figures of me. I don’t know why. Maybe its like they want me to be a symbol, but I don’t think its that. I think this is like they want to be me, and be faced with me. They want to hold me in thier hands and play life through my body. It distrubs me. It just is a flawed way of thinking, but I can’t help that. I just have to trudge on and fight to survive. I don’t live in the mines anymore. I’m not an Amalgian rock slinger. I am a soldier now. I’m a leader.
Okay, yeah. I’m a leader. But being treated like I am the only one who has a desirable life simply enfuriates me. I feel like none of these other people know that they need to live thier lives and assume thier own roles and thier own duties to the kingdom because this kingdom falls apart without them. It like I’m swarmed everywhere because I’m desirable, and I’m desirable because I’m- what exactly? I’ve killed hundreds of men. I’ve seen thier insides when I crush them against a surface. I’ve seen them splatter to sickening gooey pieces when I throw them high upwards and they come screaming down. That is torture to know I’m allowing the last few seconds of someones life to be consumed and dominated by just fear and pain. I don’t care about the fanatics. Thier minds are trapped in a persepctive that I can’t relate to anymore. I am not a child. I’m this hunter killer.
I live this way. I live to fight and kill and do all the things that disgust me because I am the best at dealing with it. I am a rock in my mind and a swift breeze in my fights. I am the shield to my way of life. I am the crushing force to anothers. I am a wall to my kingdom and a voice for it.
Ambassador Aegis Omoro. Man, I hate that name.