The Longest Thread (Misadventures)

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

9 minutes ago, Ookla the Inconclusive said:

What's wrong? Shoe asked her.

I don't trust Bat. But I need to talk to Gaioh eventually.

"Beosta?" Gaioh asked suddenly. "Is my dad still around?" 

Her face fell. "No, he... he's dead. Natural causes." 

"Oh." A shadow flickered across his face. 

Edited December 7, 2024 by oOklA thE shInyYyy

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

4 minutes ago, oOklA thE shInyYyy said:

I don't trust Bat. But I need to talk to Gaioh eventually.

"Beosta?" Bat asked suddenly. "Is my dad still around?" 

Her face fell. "No, he... he's dead. Natural causes." 

"Oh." A shadow flickered across his face. 

. . . did you mean Gaioh

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

1 minute ago, Ookla the Inconclusive said:

. . . did you mean Gaioh

AUGH

idk what you mean

but yes 

I did

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

Just now, oOklA thE shInyYyy said:

AUGH

idk what you mean

but yes 

I did

Ah, yes, I mean-

What beautiful, concise writing, Haly! Great job!

7 minutes ago, oOklA thE shInyYyy said:

I don't trust Bat. But I need to talk to Gaioh eventually.

"Beosta?" Gaioh asked suddenly. "Is my dad still around?" 

Her face fell. "No, he... he's dead. Natural causes." 

"Oh." A shadow flickered across his face. 

We could just go somewhere else.

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

1 minute ago, Ookla the Inconclusive said:

Ah, yes, I mean-

What beautiful, concise writing, Haly! Great job!

We could just go somewhere else.

Bat's pretty insistent on staying with Gaioh. Though I guess I wouldn't mind making him squirm a little. 

She hesitated. I'm not ready to talk to him yet. 

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

Just now, oOklA thE shInyYyy said:

Bat's pretty insistent on staying with Gaioh. Though I guess I wouldn't mind making him squirm a little. 

She hesitated. I'm not ready to talk to him yet. 

Oh? Why? You've talked with him before.

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

1 minute ago, Ookla the Inconclusive said:

Oh? Why? You've talked with him before.

I know, but it hasn't been enough. I have to say something... worthwhile. Valuable. You know?

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

Just now, oOklA thE shInyYyy said:

I know, but it hasn't been enough. I have to say something... worthwhile. Valuable. You know?

Like what? You literally brought him back from the dead- and he doesn't seem to be angry at you for killing him in the first place. What are you going to say?

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

1 minute ago, Ookla the Inconclusive said:

Like what? You literally brought him back from the dead- and he doesn't seem to be angry at you for killing him in the first place. What are you going to say?

I don't know! That's the problem. I... I don't even know him. I never have. And that feels unfair. 

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

Just now, oOklA thE shInyYyy said:

I don't know! That's the problem. I... I don't even know him. I never have. And that feels unfair. 

Hmm. He thought for a moment.

Why did you kill him, anyway? You never really . . . fully explained that.

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

2 minutes ago, Ookla the Inconclusive said:

Hmm. He thought for a moment.

Why did you kill him, anyway? You never really . . . fully explained that.

She went silent. Her hands strayed to her hair. 

[NameIess]

  

2 hours ago, Ookla the Bacon said:

Lady Bug appeared beside them.

 

 

2 hours ago, Ookla the Inconclusive said:

Tam nodded. "Hi."

Eof nods to Lady Bug in greeting. "I am glad to meet you as well." He turns, gazing at the ruined house. "Time is short, I'm afraid. Events have been put into motion that I cannot ignore. Still, I have some time. Traveler, I cannot give the solution you desire. Subversion cannot assume my perspective on life and so my answer to her question will not satisfy her. My advice to you is this: if you wish to know why to care, you must start by caring." The traveler opens her mouth, then closes it, lost for words. Eof continues. "Narrators, is there anything you wish to ask me before I depart?"

2 hours ago, Ookla the Inarticulate said:

Sequence rubbed her eyes wearily, leaning forward in her chair and sighing heavily. "Neither thoughts of them being dead and gone nor thoughts of what I already know they'll do if alive make me feel any better."

"If you don't want them dead, nor do you want them free to plot evil..." Unintelligible frowned. "Have you considered imprisoning Everyone? Once you're healed, we could go track them down and lock them away somewhere."

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

Just now, oOklA thE shInyYyy said:

She went silent. Her hands strayed to her hair. 

He wrapped her up in a hug.

Well, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

2 minutes ago, Ookla the nostealnamepls said:

Eof nods to Lady Bug in greeting. "I am glad to meet you as well." He turns, gazing at the ruined house. "Time is short, I'm afraid. Events have been put into motion that I cannot ignore. Still, I have some time. Traveler, I cannot give the solution you desire. Subversion cannot assume my perspective on life and so my answer to her question will not satisfy her. My advice to you is this: if you wish to know why to care, you must start by caring." The traveler opens her mouth, then closes it, lost for words. Eof continues. "Narrators, is there anything you wish to ask me before I depart?"

"What is the difference," Lady Bug asked suddenly, "Between Narrators and normal people?" 

2 minutes ago, Ookla the Inconclusive said:

He wrapped her up in a hug.

Well, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.

"I... I want you to know," she whispered. "I just can't... I don't... I don't know myself." 

"I... could show you." 

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

8 minutes ago, Ookla the nostealnamepls said:

Eof nods to Lady Bug in greeting. "I am glad to meet you as well." He turns, gazing at the ruined house. "Time is short, I'm afraid. Events have been put into motion that I cannot ignore. Still, I have some time. Traveler, I cannot give the solution you desire. Subversion cannot assume my perspective on life and so my answer to her question will not satisfy her. My advice to you is this: if you wish to know why to care, you must start by caring." The traveler opens her mouth, then closes it, lost for words. Eof continues. "Narrators, is there anything you wish to ask me before I depart?"

Tam shook her head. The only things she wanted to ask were things she wasn't sure she actually wanted the answer to.

5 minutes ago, oOklA thE shInyYyy said:

"I... I want you to know," she whispered. "I just can't... I don't... I don't know myself." 

"I... could show you." 

Oo, Haly wrote up a scene!

He nodded skeptically. If you want to . . . go ahead.

Edited December 7, 2024 by Ookla the Inconclusive

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

Just now, Ookla the Inconclusive said:

Tam shook her head. The only things she wanted to ask were things she wasn't sure she actually wanted the answer to.

Oo, Haly wrote up a scene!

He nodded skeptically. If you want to, go ahead.

hehe yes 

not the ultimate one

but

also it's unedited and it rambles a bit and it's baaaaad but i think it gets some of the points across quite well so

Beosta leaned against him and took his arm to steady herself. "Thank you," she whispered. 

Spoiler

“Happy birthday,” Beosta told her brother, rising to her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “What’s it feel like?” 

“Being eighteen?” He laughed. “Same as seventeen. Hopefully it’ll be a little different next year, when I’m actually an adult.” 

“I’m sure it will,” she assured him. “How was the store?” 

“Town was good.” He smiled, but Beosta thought she could see something deeper beneath it. Something almost bashful. 

“Go on,” she prompted. 

He lowered his tone. “I saw Faothea. And she blushed.” 

“Blushed? At you?” 

“Yeah.” His grin widened, and his face was coloring just from thinking about her. “She saw me, smiled, and blushed.” 

“Good for you.” Beosta returned his smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a hint of motion and turned as her father glided into the room. 

“Beosta, can you go take care of that pig?” he said in that soft, deep voice. She wished he would laugh every once in a while, or even smile. Just one time— just for his son’s birthday. 

“Of course.” She reached out to squeeze her brother’s hand. "My pleasure," she added with a wicked grin at Nethek. 

“I’ll meet you out there in just a few minutes,” Father called back. 

“Tell Faothea hi for me,” Beosta told Nethek, knowing he'd be going back into town, then grabbed a knife off the rack. 

Her quick, eager footsteps slowed the further she got from the house. She stopped behind the barn next to the pig and took a deep breath, stretching her neck up to the sky. This is nothing. It’ll be over in a couple of minutes. 

She was right, in a way. 

The pig’s screams died, finally. Beosta watched it go, imagined she could see the soul spiraling up to the sky like a tendril of mist. 

“It still feels wrong,” she said quietly, turning away to wipe the knife on a cloth. Her father, just as he’d promised, had arrived. He carried the bag for the pig, as well as a knife to cut off the unwanted hooves. 

“Ah,” he replied. “Yes, it does.”

“It never gets better?” 

“No.” That one word was soft, softer even than her father usually spoke. “No, it doesn’t.” He set down his knife and stood, gesturing for her to do the same. “Beosta, what we’re doing isn’t right. We’re cutting their lives short. We raise them for slaughter. 

“But what we do is for a greater good. We provide them food, shelter, and a good life until we kill them. It’ll always feel wrong. You’ll always feel that pang in your heart.”

“So what do I do?” 

“That’s the question.” He took her knife and turned it over in his hands. “This part of you out here holding this knife… who says it has to be a part of you? Who says you can’t just carve it out?” 

Beosta interlocked her fingers, watching her father. His face did look different now. Stronger, harder, more in control. 

His eyes locked onto Beosta’s. “That’s not all. Some people can’t do that. I can’t do that.”

Beosta’s voice came out hushed. “So… so what then?” 

“Then you remember why you do it.” He reached out and touched the barn wall. 

“Kill today to eat tomorrow.” 

“Yes. You kill today for their tomorrow.”

“The people who really matter to you.” 

“Yup.” He sighed, then wrapped the pig up in the tarp. “Let’s go. Nethek will be back soon. We’ll want a nice warm dinner— he can’t have had much of a time of it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Faothea,” he said simply. “She’s rich. Lord Hecob I didn't realize there was a character with such a similar name when I made him T~T is not, but he needs to be. His son is only a year younger than her.” 

“Right.” She remembered this. Nobody had told her outright, but she’d gathered what she could from watching Faothea, watching her brother, watching her father as well as the father of the quiet blond boy she caught glimpses of every now and then. 

She didn’t think any of it fair— politics had no place in Nethek’s love life. He’d sometimes come home glowing, but more often he’d come home with a subdued air. He’d still smile and laugh, but not with his eyes. Beosta figured he’d thought of Faothea. 

The dinner was done now, and Beosta waited for Nethek to come home. Eventually she saw him walking up through the window, shoulders slumped. A stranger wouldn’t notice the difference, but she did. 

“Hi, Beosta,” he greeted. 

“Hi.” She followed him into the living room. “How was everything?” 

“Oh, fine.” He was quiet for a moment, then whispered, “I kissed her. I kissed Faothea.” 

She took his hand. “What was it like?” She wasn’t curious. She didn’t care. But she did wonder why he wasn’t happy, and she hoped she could make him happy. 

“It was nice,” he replied. Good, a bit of color in his face. “Short. But nice. Bea, she’s perfect. She’s beautiful and sweet and… and perfect.” 

Beosta frowned. The way he said it, so limp, so… so sadly, that didn’t make sense. “Nethek?” 

He looked at her. The glimmers she’d hoped to bring back to his eyes were noticeably absent. 

“Nethek, why are you so sad?” 

His eyes dropped back to his hands on his lap. “Bea… she’s never going to be mine. She can’t be mine. No matter how much I’m drawn to her, no matter how much I need her, she’ll never be mine.” 

She placed her hand over his, feeling a sad sort of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Nethek. I’m sorry it has to be like this.” 

“I wish it didn’t have to be. I wish there was something I could do.” His eyes glimmered now, but not with life, and his voice suddenly sounded more raw. More primal. “She loves me too, Bea. It isn’t fair.” 

“No. It’s not.” What could she say? Nothing she could say would make him feel better, but maybe he didn’t need to feel better. “It’s a difficult thing to do, Nethek. I know. Eventually we all sacrifice.” 

“Sacrifice,” he sighed. “For a noble cause. You know all about that, don’t you?” He turned to her with a small, sad smile. 

She looked away, sudden tears pricking at her eyes. “Nethek, I… h-how is Faothea’s family?”

He squeezed her hand but didn’t push her. “They’re doing well. They offered to let me stay for dinner.” 

Did they really think so low of her father to believe he wouldn’t throw a ceremonial dinner on such an important date? 

Nethek could clearly read her emotions off of her face, and he frowned. “Beosta, they weren’t… they had no ill intention. They have merely… noticed.” 

“Noticed what?” She snapped. 

“Father… he’s… not the man he used to be,” he said carefully, his voice dropping low. “I know you’ve seen it, Bea. Without Mom, he doesn’t–”

“Stop.” She withdrew her hand. “Father does what he has to for us. For you.”

Concern furrowed his brow. “It’s not just Father I’m worried about,” he told her. “Beosta, you’ve…”

She stood quickly before he could pick that sentence back up. “Pardon,” she said coldly. “I have to finish your dinner.” 

“Bea,” he pleaded. She ignored him and strode back into the kitchen. Father was there, adding salt to the salad oil. He’d heard every word. He always did, somehow. She joined him, picking out spices for the pork sauce. 

“It’s a shame,” she mentioned, eyes on her work. 

“A shame,” her father repeated. “Yes, Bea. It is a shame. Letting go will be very, very hard for him.” After a pause, he added, “If only there were something we could do.” 

“If only,” she repeated. She felt his hand on her shoulder and raised her eyes to look into his. Brown eyes, but in good light you could see a tiny ring of red if you looked closely. The lighting in the kitchen was not sufficient, but Beosta knew it was there all the same. 

“If only there were something we could do,” he said again, holding her gaze. After what felt like eternity, he dropped his hand back to his side, then moved into the living room to greet his son. 

Beosta watched him go. Surely he hadn’t meant anything by that. Perhaps he was just telling her to look out for him, be there for him like her mother had. Perhaps she’d imagined that look on his face— the one she’d seen on her twelfth birthday. The one seared into her brain with a brand so hot, the scar would never heal over. Surely this churning, dark feeling in her stomach was merely a product of her imagination. 

Even if the darkness did feel more real, more powerful, than anything she’d ever felt before. 

 

 

[NameIess]

18 minutes ago, oOklA thE shInyYyy said:

"What is the difference," Lady Bug asked suddenly, "Between Narrators and normal people?" 

"Power." Said Eof. "Narrators are burdened with unimaginable power. Most have an awareness of the Thread that very few can begin to understand-even among characters that can pierce the forth wall. All Narrators must deal with the consequences of this. Some pretend to be lesser-knowingly or unknowingly-and thus become lesser. Some ignore the consequences instead, until they cannot." He paused, eyes staring into Lady Bug's soul. "I generalize, of course. Not all Narrators have much trouble with this. Some can accept the power and come to terms with the consequences. That is the path I would recommend you follow. You can care even in a world of imagination."

Edited December 7, 2024 by Ookla the nostealnamepls

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

7 minutes ago, oOklA thE shInyYyy said:

hehe yes 

not the ultimate one

but

also it's unedited and it rambles a bit and it's baaaaad but i think it gets some of the points across quite well so

Beosta leaned against him and took his arm to steady herself. "Thank you," she whispered. 

  Hide contents

“Happy birthday,” Beosta told her brother, rising to her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “What’s it feel like?” 

“Being eighteen?” He laughed. “Same as seventeen. Hopefully it’ll be a little different next year, when I’m actually an adult.” 

“I’m sure it will,” she assured him. “How was the store?” 

“Town was good.” He smiled, but Beosta thought she could see something deeper beneath it. Something almost bashful. 

“Go on,” she prompted. 

He lowered his tone. “I saw Faothea. And she blushed.” 

“Blushed? At you?” 

“Yeah.” His grin widened, and his face was coloring just from thinking about her. “She saw me, smiled, and blushed.” 

“Good for you.” Beosta returned his smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a hint of motion and turned as her father glided into the room. 

“Beosta, can you go take care of that pig?” he said in that soft, deep voice. She wished he would laugh every once in a while, or even smile. Just one time— just for his son’s birthday. 

“Of course.” She reached out to squeeze her brother’s hand. "My pleasure," she added with a wicked grin at Nethek. 

“I’ll meet you out there in just a few minutes,” Father called back. 

“Tell Faothea hi for me,” Beosta told Nethek, knowing he'd be going back into town, then grabbed a knife off the rack. 

Her quick, eager footsteps slowed the further she got from the house. She stopped behind the barn next to the pig and took a deep breath, stretching her neck up to the sky. This is nothing. It’ll be over in a couple of minutes. 

She was right, in a way. 

The pig’s screams died, finally. Beosta watched it go, imagined she could see the soul spiraling up to the sky like a tendril of mist. 

“It still feels wrong,” she said quietly, turning away to wipe the knife on a cloth. Her father, just as he’d promised, had arrived. He carried the bag for the pig, as well as a knife to cut off the unwanted hooves. 

“Ah,” he replied. “Yes, it does.”

“It never gets better?” 

“No.” That one word was soft, softer even than her father usually spoke. “No, it doesn’t.” He set down his knife and stood, gesturing for her to do the same. “Beosta, what we’re doing isn’t right. We’re cutting their lives short. We raise them for slaughter. 

“But what we do is for a greater good. We provide them food, shelter, and a good life until we kill them. It’ll always feel wrong. You’ll always feel that pang in your heart.”

“So what do I do?” 

“That’s the question.” He took her knife and turned it over in his hands. “This part of you out here holding this knife… who says it has to be a part of you? Who says you can’t just carve it out?” 

Beosta interlocked her fingers, watching her father. His face did look different now. Stronger, harder, more in control. 

His eyes locked onto Beosta’s. “That’s not all. Some people can’t do that. I can’t do that.”

Beosta’s voice came out hushed. “So… so what then?” 

“Then you remember why you do it.” He reached out and touched the barn wall. 

“Kill today to eat tomorrow.” 

“Yes. You kill today for their tomorrow.”

“The people who really matter to you.” 

“Yup.” He sighed, then wrapped the pig up in the tarp. “Let’s go. Nethek will be back soon. We’ll want a nice warm dinner— he can’t have had much of a time of it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Faothea,” he said simply. “She’s rich. Lord Hecob I didn't realize there was a character with such a similar name when I made him T~T is not, but he needs to be. His son is only a year younger than her.” 

“Right.” She remembered this. Nobody had told her outright, but she’d gathered what she could from watching Faothea, watching her brother, watching her father as well as the father of the quiet blond boy she caught glimpses of every now and then. 

She didn’t think any of it fair— politics had no place in Nethek’s love life. He’d sometimes come home glowing, but more often he’d come home with a subdued air. He’d still smile and laugh, but not with his eyes. Beosta figured he’d thought of Faothea. 

The dinner was done now, and Beosta waited for Nethek to come home. Eventually she saw him walking up through the window, shoulders slumped. A stranger wouldn’t notice the difference, but she did. 

“Hi, Beosta,” he greeted. 

“Hi.” She followed him into the living room. “How was everything?” 

“Oh, fine.” He was quiet for a moment, then whispered, “I kissed her. I kissed Faothea.” 

She took his hand. “What was it like?” She wasn’t curious. She didn’t care. But she did wonder why he wasn’t happy, and she hoped she could make him happy. 

“It was nice,” he replied. Good, a bit of color in his face. “Short. But nice. Bea, she’s perfect. She’s beautiful and sweet and… and perfect.” 

Beosta frowned. The way he said it, so limp, so… so sadly, that didn’t make sense. “Nethek?” 

He looked at her. The glimmers she’d hoped to bring back to his eyes were noticeably absent. 

“Nethek, why are you so sad?” 

His eyes dropped back to his hands on his lap. “Bea… she’s never going to be mine. She can’t be mine. No matter how much I’m drawn to her, no matter how much I need her, she’ll never be mine.” 

She placed her hand over his, feeling a sad sort of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Nethek. I’m sorry it has to be like this.” 

“I wish it didn’t have to be. I wish there was something I could do.” His eyes glimmered now, but not with life, and his voice suddenly sounded more raw. More primal. “She loves me too, Bea. It isn’t fair.” 

“No. It’s not.” What could she say? Nothing she could say would make him feel better, but maybe he didn’t need to feel better. “It’s a difficult thing to do, Nethek. I know. Eventually we all sacrifice.” 

“Sacrifice,” he sighed. “For a noble cause. You know all about that, don’t you?” He turned to her with a small, sad smile. 

She looked away, sudden tears pricking at her eyes. “Nethek, I… h-how is Faothea’s family?”

He squeezed her hand but didn’t push her. “They’re doing well. They offered to let me stay for dinner.” 

Did they really think so low of her father to believe he wouldn’t throw a ceremonial dinner on such an important date? 

Nethek could clearly read her emotions off of her face, and he frowned. “Beosta, they weren’t… they had no ill intention. They have merely… noticed.” 

“Noticed what?” She snapped. 

“Father… he’s… not the man he used to be,” he said carefully, his voice dropping low. “I know you’ve seen it, Bea. Without Mom, he doesn’t–”

“Stop.” She withdrew her hand. “Father does what he has to for us. For you.”

Concern furrowed his brow. “It’s not just Father I’m worried about,” he told her. “Beosta, you’ve…”

She stood quickly before he could pick that sentence back up. “Pardon,” she said coldly. “I have to finish your dinner.” 

“Bea,” he pleaded. She ignored him and strode back into the kitchen. Father was there, adding salt to the salad oil. He’d heard every word. He always did, somehow. She joined him, picking out spices for the pork sauce. 

“It’s a shame,” she mentioned, eyes on her work. 

“A shame,” her father repeated. “Yes, Bea. It is a shame. Letting go will be very, very hard for him.” After a pause, he added, “If only there were something we could do.” 

“If only,” she repeated. She felt his hand on her shoulder and raised her eyes to look into his. Brown eyes, but in good light you could see a tiny ring of red if you looked closely. The lighting in the kitchen was not sufficient, but Beosta knew it was there all the same. 

“If only there were something we could do,” he said again, holding her gaze. After what felt like eternity, he dropped his hand back to his side, then moved into the living room to greet his son. 

Beosta watched him go. Surely he hadn’t meant anything by that. Perhaps he was just telling her to look out for him, be there for him like her mother had. Perhaps she’d imagined that look on his face— the one she’d seen on her twelfth birthday. The one seared into her brain with a brand so hot, the scar would never heal over. Surely this churning, dark feeling in her stomach was merely a product of her imagination. 

Even if the darkness did feel more real, more powerful, than anything she’d ever felt before. 

 

 

Shoe shuddered.

So . . . your father basically told you to go kill Gaioh?

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

1 minute ago, Ookla the nostealnamepls said:

"Power." Said Eof. "Narrators are burdened with unimaginable power. Most have an awareness of the Thread that very few can begin to understand-even among characters that can pierce the forth wall. All Narrators must deal with the consequences of this. Some pretend to be lesser-knowingly or unknowingly-and thus become lesser. Some ignore the consequences instead, until they cannot." He paused, eyes staring into Lady Bug's soul. "I generalize, of course. Not all Narrators have much trouble with this. Some can accept the power and come to terms with the consequences. That is the path I would recommend you follow. You can care even in a world of imagination."

"So they are lesser, according to you?" She frowned, calculating in her brain. 

Just now, Ookla the Inconclusive said:

Shoe shuddered.

So . . . your father basically told you to go kill Gaioh?

"N... I... m- maybe? No. No, he didn't." 

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

1 minute ago, oOklA thE shInyYyy said:

"N... I... m- maybe? No. No, he didn't." 

He definitely implied that you should do something though. You'd literally been talking about killing animals for your own good earlier in the day.

[NameIess]

1 minute ago, oOklA thE shInyYyy said:

"So they are lesser, according to you?" She frowned, calculating in her brain. 

"Narrators who do not know or do not want to use their powers to the fullest will be less powerful than those who know and accept the truth of their power. That is what I mean by 'lesser'."

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

1 minute ago, Ookla the Inconclusive said:

He definitely implied that you should do something though. You'd literally been talking about killing animals for your own good earlier in the day.

"That... that's different. That was just... it was about animals. Not people. It doesn't mean anything." 

Just now, Ookla the nostealnamepls said:

"Narrators who do not know or do not want to use their powers to the fullest will be less powerful than those who know and accept the truth of their power. That is what I mean by 'lesser'."

"Ah." 

She closed her mouth. 

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

Just now, oOklA thE shInyYyy said:

"That... that's different. That was just... it was about animals. Not people. It doesn't mean anything." 

1 minute ago, Ookla the nostealnamepls said:

Evidently it meant something.

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

2 minutes ago, Ookla the Inconclusive said:

Evidently it meant something.

"He was just trying to help me, Shoe," she said quietly. "He was just... just trying to help." 

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

Just now, oOklA thE shInyYyy said:

"He was just trying to help me, Shoe," she said quietly. "He was just... just trying to help." 

He hugged her closer.

Maybe.