The closer the space-time entity drew, the wisps of hands curled and parted. A few that were faint or small reached, only to flinch away, but Herrscher remained. Still as could be as Paradox wrapped around him.
The very existence of the temporal being became difficult to discern from whether he was there or not. When he was, the existence felt too scattered yet still there. In other words: Add was becoming displaced and unstable.
He reached, resting a woven hand over one of Paradox’s arms. Relieving the poor, once-was human of the confines of tormenting existence was… an impossibility. One cannot kill that which does not exist, not even if it simultaneously lives. Yet, there was one method he long cast aside for a more permanent solution of releasing others from their pain.
The fingers wrapped around the paradoxical life tightened. Bit by bit, he coaxed the disarray, overwhelming despair from Paradox. Perhaps it was an understatement, his jaw was tense from the intensity of the raw emotions and turmoil. Yet little by little, he gently guided the miasma to flow and concentrate into a familiar seed of chaos, the very tip of it bounced lightly in his free hand.
The seed wavered as he lifted it, offering the compaction of misery and hopelessness alike.
Emptiness. Cold, cold, emptiness suddenly felt as though it permeated what of his ‘form’ was corporeal. The manic, endless stream of thoughts that came & went as it pleased halted & for the briefest moment in time, there was clarity.
And it was the worst thing he’d ever known. Clarity, to think for even a moment without interruption from the endless torment of his own instability and his own rampant, wild emotions when they did arise beyond nihilism. For the briefest moment in time, it was almost like when he was alive and before his form had disintegrated into absolute nothingness; yet starkly different for he lacked a heart to feel warmth. From rampant emotional delusion came a horrific instability in his very being.
Clarity is awfully difficult to stomach when you can’t even stand to look at the truth without collapsing in on yourself, a dying star amongst endless space.
“...What have you done to me...
What did you...”
This seed was the reason behind his momentary reprieve, but truly how momentary it is. A growl ripped from Paradox’s throat as he gripped it, and threw it hard into the vast nothingness around them. He backed away from Herrscher entirely, hands gripping at his head as if he were in nothing short of agony.
A paradox in and of itself. While momentarily sparing him of his hopelessness and nihilism, he was wrought instead with despair of the truth.
“Don’t touch me... Leave me... Leave me alone...
I want to go home....I...”
