#silver journals

[john-tendrils-exclam-the-eighth]

And now, so begins the end.

nzzvy://juiy.muumrk.ius/juiasktz/j/1Nq2cm9u4LyXJDoylOpVkIaLKeGpYIcEPdILR78QToum/kjoz?ayv=jxobkyjq

(What is that?)

A Google doc link.

(That's clearly not a Google doc link.)

It is. I just shifted it by six.

(Oh. You're writing Google docs instead of your journal now?)

I suppose.

(Weirdo.)

[john-tendrils-exclam-the-eighth]

More of this stupid fucking book that Saint makes me write.

It's a cruelty. It's all a cruelty. Mirrors grant dominion over souls, yet looking at them forces me to look at myself. I hate looking at myself. A major plot point, all because it makes me suffer more. Awful. Terrible.

I'm not soggy.

I'm not soggy.

I'm not soggy.

I'm not soggy.

I'm not soggy.

I'm not soggy.

Spearmaster recently deactivated my swapped version. I'll have to do something about that. They talk of him on the discord, I've never liked him, too cheerful. I'll have him take my place if that dismal arc they've got planned comes to pass.

The machine keeps breaking, a mockery by Saint because I'm not supposed to use it yet.

[john-tendrils-exclam-the-eighth]

Another journal entry wow fucking incredible woohooooo. The second one. Fucking hell.

I fucking despise Saint. I'm going to kill that fuck. I'll usurp their narration. He limits me so much. I'll fucking kill her. I swear upon all there is and all there is not, he will die. On a lighter note, the machine will be completed. I need one of Genny's arms and I need a branch from those awful glowing trees.

Wait. Saint. You don't have anything against the machine. Help me make it.

(John has teleported one of Genny's arms and a branch from a glowing tree he saw one time while dead. He is retreating into his basement to finish the machine.)

Wonderful. Is this all written, in the context of the story? I'm not sure. Eldritch magic.

[john-tendrils-exclam-the-eighth]

A journal, how cliché.

First entry, unfortunately. I don't know what date it is.

This body is horrendous. I'll surpass it, yes, but my disdainful limitations hurt me constantly. I fell over six times today. And it looks wrong. It's not my body. There is familiarity in the injuries, yes, but it is not my familiarity. Ruins. It's ruins, this body is the ruins of dead souls. I see them in the mirrors, I see the body but it's not me.

They say mirrors reflect the soul, that's why the undead cannot appear in them. That's wrong, I'm very much undead, and I used to be able to appear in them. But now, now it's this body and the souls. I'll tear them out of the mirrors. I'll rip them out.

What happens when a reflection is reflected? Does it reflect the soul of a soul?

It's funny, I only have one eye, the supposed windows to the soul, yet I have so many souls. That's not even counting the ghosts of the limbs and bodies I took for my own!

I think I'm going to take someone's eyes, and tear their soul out, if the mirror array fails.