'15,000 words needed for ranking?'
'Yet you can't even get your life straight.'
"A dagger and a piece of paper."
The man in a black suit stares at a distance.
"Well, Nvoke-19 was a success and a sure hit."
Perhaps this was an act of chaos all along, he who invades minds. He who was shrouded in shadows. The man in a black suit was just as classic as he can be, though he can take many forms, and sometimes his face was blank as yours.
'Yours' then pertaining to be genderless? Perhaps?
"Well, the only decision is yours to act."
The man in a black suit invades another thought.
"YOU."
The man in a black suit summons a tall chair with a dagger and a piece of paper out of his pocket.
"Amusing."
Levine and Ziel turned into items.
"Itemization is good."
The man in a black suit began to tear the piece of paper with a dagger.
"A corrosive input of devastating procedures. Define taste."
A taste of chaos with this entity's nasty mouth, a mind made of furious mirth.
"Laughable but serves well."
And thus, the two souls are no more, hidden in the depths of the unconscious, and was soon made to be a form that the man in a black suit can access.
"Anur, that woman is up to no good." Upon leaving with those words, the man in a black suit vanished.
'Anur, the deceiver of the Holy tomb'
Yet it is conceived on how it is interpreted. A collapsing mind at most which would be observed or reacted upon.
That duty is for 'them' to uphold.
"You."
A voice from afar was heard, melding into the shadows where one sleeps.
Anur was a beautiful priestess captivating the hearts of men during her era little do they know those men were sacrificed to the Holy Tomb of Narashnaba. It was also said that the origins of Narashnaba were nowhere to be found even on the sacred scriptures and why was it called holy when the god itself is evil? Perhaps Narashnaba was not. Evil or God it doesn't matter, prayers and curses both feed on the energy of faith be it simple or complicated.
One does simply wonder in delight with her innocent face and her height that is 5'6, maybe tastes differ in one's time, or the movement itself evolve or devolve. Narashnaba was once called the deceiving god a face only Anur can speak of. A False Prophet, Anur has a seemingly angry face, meaning she has a strong expression, and when at first glance, it is a bit stiff. Anur adds a different yet charming smile when trapping men interested in her.
And as such, rituals were made to ensure that the advent of Narashnaba was made and merged.
Narashnaba and Anur were in perfect sync that one cannot determine who was speaking thus, she was named and that bitch was reborn.
"I have merely forgotten who is who."
She gazed in the starry sky as they were her only audience.
"Time's burial is effortless be it an enemy or not. And another title was made— the concealed one."
'Surely you have forgotten that you were once a deceiver Anur.'
"Yet, one does not speak of that ill-forgotten name."
'A maiden once believed she is loved. How pathetic.'
"So you speak of it when it was long since gone? Hahahahaha"
'Well, we benefit from each other right? So I can only assume that I can be a she for I am genderless but can create things that may deem necessary.'
"The one that needs to be visited was not here."
'He will soon find us. Nyarlathotep will be pleased.'
"Who, Ronyardo?"
'Who else would be?'
"We are in the middle of the desert near Areshnamonkal, the once Holy Tomb where it was erased from the foundations of history, nothing but earthen gaze."
'You mean nothing but dead soil?'
"I'm just lazy to describe it."
'So who is the one reading your words?'
"Them."
'Ah, yes.'
"Nothing but crap."
'Best to keep my mouth shut and sleep for now.'
"Better."
"So it was a brooding night back then."
'Consequences of the past actions directed me to another soul
He who has forsaken everything erected a castle of shadows to unwind
From a breath of terrifying mistakes,
Ascension amidst the untrusted gale.
From within the walls
I heard voices.
Steering away from reality,
Hers was tranquility.
It came to a halt.
Time passes slowly in this unforgotten place
Laying cold, standing still
Whispering of an unmentioned will.
It only takes one person to believe— a shared light that was once neglected.
As the future never roots, it only unearthens
Whatever time brings, we will begin to reconsider what is evil or good.
As I lay closing the book with edges of blood— permeating in the confusion that is my existence
Thus, a brooding night was released.'