I believe that I am in Hell,

I hope that everyone has had time to recover from their experiences in the desert.

That was a strange curse, and strangely anticlimactic. I don't know what I was expecting, but it's worrisome--the sudden split, the apparent lack of control that the deities had over the event (but their amount of control has been brought into question before now), the abrupt disappearance of the desert. The City has an inherent instability to it. I understand that. I wish I understood something beyond that.

Someone--Rosella?--mentioned an hourglass. It seems like sand has always been making random appearances in the City (as far as I can remember) and everything seems to revolve around time: the Clock always (or almost always) ticks, the twelve apartment complexes are arranged around the center of the City like numbers on a clock face, most curses last twenty-four hours, other curses are so regular that they could be marked on a calender.

Sand and time. Did the hourglass get turned upside-down? Is there any significance to the fact that one City was sand and the other was glass when glass can be made from sand? How much control do the deities have and how much power do the other beings that we've seen before have? How much power do we have?

Not that it matters. The City exists whether or not we're here, whether or not we remember, and whether or not we care enough to worry about what it is and what its purpose is. Maybe the City isn't a sentient thing or a twisted experiment; maybe it's a world like any other where individuals don't mean anything. Maybe the Clock would keep ticking if we all vanished (if a clock works in a universe where no one can hear it, does it make a sound?). Right now, I'm inclined to think of us as grains of sand in relation to the City as a whole.

( Filtered to Neil and Todd // Unhackable )

( Private // Off Network )

[ooc: The triumphant return of mopey tl;dr that no one can read!]


[COMMENTS]

Thank you for the warm reception.  However poorly I articulated it, I appreciated the offers of assistance.

I have a question, but I'm not sure if there's an answer.  Regardless: what's the purpose of the graveyard?  The carousel, the ticking, the deities--all of that makes sense (or as much sense as anything else), but why is there a place to bury people if no one stays dead here?  Is it just a prop?  It feels significant, although feelings can't be relied on.

This is a strange place--strange in its own way, stranger when I think about it.  I'd call it all a dream if I wasn't convinced that I'm awake.  Every time I think I'm close to making sense of something, it slips away.

That's not important.  Thank you, again, for being so welcoming.


[Filtered to Neil and Todd // Hackable]

I've read all of the guides (most of them appear to be outdated) and as much as I could find about filters.  It's unnecessary to use one, I suppose, since I can just talk to you, but some things are more comfortably put in writing.

First and most importantly, thank you.  I don't fully understand why you trust me enough to let me into your apartment when you know about what I've done and you realize that I'm not the same person you knew.  Whether I should blame kindness or poor judgment, thank you. 

Second--and I don't know if I should tell either of you this, but something wholly inexplicable tells me that I can trust you--I've been having odd experiences.  Do you know what it's like to try to remember a dream you've just woken up from?  It's like that, and sometimes I think I'm on the verge of something... and then it gets away.  Is this a normal phenomenon here?

Third, I'd like to repeat what I typed first.  I haven't done anything to earn trust, kindness, or friendship--not that I remember.  I hope that you're both usually more cautious.