Or... ( And it is Wei Ying's world of little horrors, Wei Ying's house of speculations. He pulls the thread of his conspiracy loose: ) Evolve one.
( The numbers of conscripts align — only their skillset differs. And he feels somehow removed from himself, his innards foreign and gelid and raw, revulsed in at once repulsing.
Ambition parts man from animal — then himself again, from his own humanity.
It both frightens and storms him, limbs rotting in saccharine futility. There is nothing one man can do against those who choose so freely to ally with wickedness.
He thinks so, sharing words with a great evil. )
My people strengthen and purify to achieve immortality. This should not be — so different. ( Yet it is. )
no subject
( The numbers of conscripts align — only their skillset differs. And he feels somehow removed from himself, his innards foreign and gelid and raw, revulsed in at once repulsing.
Ambition parts man from animal — then himself again, from his own humanity.
It both frightens and storms him, limbs rotting in saccharine futility. There is nothing one man can do against those who choose so freely to ally with wickedness.
He thinks so, sharing words with a great evil. )
My people strengthen and purify to achieve immortality. This should not be — so different. ( Yet it is. )