"...There's an old saying, among my kind."
Nihm clears his throat prior to this statement, a soft thing filled with nostalgia, adjusting his bi-focals after the phrase with a flick of a well manicured finger.
"Sleep brings hope, waking brings regret." He pauses, chuckling under his breath at some memory or other, before his eyes, quicksilver adaptable, return to the pair with decisive scrutiny.
"The concept of 'another world' is a difficult one to wrap our heads around. We lay siege to the mystery with any number of theories but in the boundaries of the Spirit there is...a depth of dream-logic that can defy our expectations. It is why it is so important for you two to be observers first and foremost, because what you see will defy your ability to rationalize and from that defiance, you'll find new paths of thinking. New paths of connecting that you did not know existed. For instance..."
Arturo sucks in a slow breath, head tilting to one side before breathing outward. When his eyes open, there is a far away quality to them, an almost pale azure hue to the grey. A static distance that says no one is home.
"Our surroundings are of logic. Rationale. A sense that all things require sense. That all motives require verdicts. Lines are drawn to provide us comfort and solace when we look at them because we know that a line is a line. That a leg is a leg. That a spider. Is. A spider." A hand raises, wiggling geriatric fingers at something that wasn't there. "This method of something we learned. An imposing of required understanding on a world that had no need for it. We learned it from Order."
His eyes blink back, settling into place once more on the pair.
"...And when Order became so instinctive that it turned into Stasis, we followed right along as seemed so natural."
"You two-" He huffs. It might as well be a tsk. "Operate under the assumption that the Gauntlet is an enemy. That the spirit doesn't belong to you but that it should. That there's something unfathomable about it because you, like so many of your number and all those out there using cross-walks or obeying traffic signs or driving smartcars-" He flicks his hand out at each of the examples stated, passing their little congregation by
"-Believe it, but? That's just Stasis talking. A lifetime of learning it. And your...power-" Is that stifled humour under his breath? "-is just another symptom for how to reach there. Blunt and brutal in many ways, if effective. Mother knows the great binder of all things loves a challenger." He's rolling his eyes, dismissing the Cosmic Entity with a slim hand.
"You belong to the spirit as much as the spirit belongs to you. It wants you there, with it. All the time. It is eager to know you as intimately and deeply as lovers, friends and family and often times, it will go to great lengths to remind you of that. It is hungry, desiring and earnest in wanting you there. Wanting you back."
Arturo turns, his posture shifting enough to indicate the pair of kids should be looking out where he is looking. His face goes a touch grim and his features, a hint defying.
"...It's Her and This-" He waves a hand once again. At the Traffic lights. The street. The obedient little people "-that keep reminding you, bludgeoning you, with this idea that you don't belong."
Nihm clears his throat prior to this statement, a soft thing filled with nostalgia, adjusting his bi-focals after the phrase with a flick of a well manicured finger.
"Sleep brings hope, waking brings regret." He pauses, chuckling under his breath at some memory or other, before his eyes, quicksilver adaptable, return to the pair with decisive scrutiny.
"The concept of 'another world' is a difficult one to wrap our heads around. We lay siege to the mystery with any number of theories but in the boundaries of the Spirit there is...a depth of dream-logic that can defy our expectations. It is why it is so important for you two to be observers first and foremost, because what you see will defy your ability to rationalize and from that defiance, you'll find new paths of thinking. New paths of connecting that you did not know existed. For instance..."
Arturo sucks in a slow breath, head tilting to one side before breathing outward. When his eyes open, there is a far away quality to them, an almost pale azure hue to the grey. A static distance that says no one is home.
"Our surroundings are of logic. Rationale. A sense that all things require sense. That all motives require verdicts. Lines are drawn to provide us comfort and solace when we look at them because we know that a line is a line. That a leg is a leg. That a spider. Is. A spider." A hand raises, wiggling geriatric fingers at something that wasn't there. "This method of something we learned. An imposing of required understanding on a world that had no need for it. We learned it from Order."
His eyes blink back, settling into place once more on the pair.
"...And when Order became so instinctive that it turned into Stasis, we followed right along as seemed so natural."
"You two-" He huffs. It might as well be a tsk. "Operate under the assumption that the Gauntlet is an enemy. That the spirit doesn't belong to you but that it should. That there's something unfathomable about it because you, like so many of your number and all those out there using cross-walks or obeying traffic signs or driving smartcars-" He flicks his hand out at each of the examples stated, passing their little congregation by
"-Believe it, but? That's just Stasis talking. A lifetime of learning it. And your...power-" Is that stifled humour under his breath? "-is just another symptom for how to reach there. Blunt and brutal in many ways, if effective. Mother knows the great binder of all things loves a challenger." He's rolling his eyes, dismissing the Cosmic Entity with a slim hand.
"You belong to the spirit as much as the spirit belongs to you. It wants you there, with it. All the time. It is eager to know you as intimately and deeply as lovers, friends and family and often times, it will go to great lengths to remind you of that. It is hungry, desiring and earnest in wanting you there. Wanting you back."
Arturo turns, his posture shifting enough to indicate the pair of kids should be looking out where he is looking. His face goes a touch grim and his features, a hint defying.
"...It's Her and This-" He waves a hand once again. At the Traffic lights. The street. The obedient little people "-that keep reminding you, bludgeoning you, with this idea that you don't belong."