#wingings

[niko-jpeg]

Since the River Cult post has gotten some traction and people have already made fanart (which I loved by the way) I decided "Heck it, LETS DO THIS!" I also tried a different method of shading with this and got lazy towards the end-

So heres a drawing of Wingdings trolling Blue. He knows exactly what Blue's been up to and likes to toy around with him, because Blue never figured out that Cores "new responsibilities" included looking after anyone he knew until they literally spelled it out to him.

[the-river-person]

Epilogue

Wind swept through the red grass like a wave upon the sea, sending ripples down the slopes of the endless hills. In the lowest valleys the grass vanished into a soft white fog, making the hilltops seem as if they were detached from the earth and floating through an ocean of clouds. Sans gazed around in wonder, while also having to shield his eyes a little. Above them the sky was a thousand blending shades of purple, everything from a deep angry bruise to a very soft lilac. At the edge of the Horizon was the sun, and from here it looked a very deep red color, and though it wasn’t terribly bright, he still had to shield his eyes. It seemed that he needed some time for his eyes to properly adjust to seeing the surface in all of its overwhelming brightness after living in the muted and shadowed Underground for all his life. Well for lifetimes on end, really. Mouth open wide, and eye lights nearly pinpricks in shock, Gaster too appeared to be too stunned for words at the sight of this world. Sans knew that his uncle had been around to see the Surface of their own Universe, and judging by Gaster’s reaction, it was nothing at all like this. The River Person had taken them to this place because he said it was still a relatively safe Universe to visit for a little while. Comfortably seated in his ferry boat, the River Person didn’t seem inclined to go anywhere soon, so they’d opted to explore for a bit while staying in sight. Arriving at another Universe was just as bizarre as leaving one had been. It was as if there was a reflective orb in the distance, only when you got closer it wasn’t you that it was reflecting, but a place. And if you got close enough it was as if the reflection warped and twisted itself so that it swallowed you and you were sitting in another Universe as smoothly as if you’d landed your boat at the docks. Actually the ferryboat itself was sitting in the middle of the red grass, and looked perfectly natural there as if it were supposed to sail across the sea of red grass and plants instead of up and down a river. Out in the distance the world got even stranger. To the right, he wasn’t sure what the compass direction was because the red sun appeared to be circling the horizon instead of crossing overhead in an arc, he could see bright glow that spanned the whole edge of the sky in that direction, as if the area was filled with light. And to the left the sky seemed to get darker and darker until the horizon that way was shadowed and still. “Pretty, isn’t it?” “Yes,” he breathed, still trying to take it all in. The next moment he leaped away in shock as he realized the comment had come from someone who had unexpectedly been standing beside him. It was a skeleton, somewhat similar to himself in appearance but not quite. Wearing brown pants that might have been tucked in overalls by the green straps that were sticking out from one side of the waist, a white shirt, and a long brown scarf... the skeleton’s clothing alone made a strong first impression of him. But more interesting than that were the splotch of black ink that coated the bottom right side of his jaw and the enormous paint brush that he carried on his back like a sheathed sword. Over his chest was a belt holding a series of tiny phials with heart shaped stoppers, each phial held a different colored liquid within, and altogether and in order they formed a kind of rainbow pattern. Finally, around his neck and hanging down his back was an incredibly long scarf of some brown fabric. The Skeleton was grinning at him, mischief dancing in his eye sockets, which Sans had only just realized contained some odd shapes. In his left eye, the pupil was shaped like a bright, five pointed, golden star (☆), twinkling merrily as if to say “I’m excited!” to all the world. And in his right eye the pupil took the shape of... and this left Sans feeling more bewildered than anything else, a small purple 7. But even as he watched the pupils changed shape, and again, and again. A spiral (๑), a triangle border with nothing inside (△), a check mark (✓), an eroteme (?), a small crescent moon (☽), a pair of squiggly lines that might have been either water or a double tilde (≈), a silcrow (§), a percontation point (⸮), and a very small umbrella (☂). “Hullo!” said the skeleton. “I’m Ink! Guardian of the Multiverse and Protector of AUs!” Gaster, who had turned around to see what Sans had been reacting to, was examining the newcomer with something akin to professional curiosity. “AUs?” he asked, tilting his skull slightly to the side. “Alternate Universes,” clarified Ink. “And parallel ones. And pretty much any other kind of universe that springs up. So... now that I’ve introduced myself, who are you two?” Other universes, the thought was a little frightening. Sure he’d heard Gaster practically wax poetic on the subject numerous times, and here he was standing in another universe entirely. But it was different hearing someone else talk about them existing, as if they’d seen them with their own eyes. An entire multiverse full of them. And if Ink was truly the Guardian of that Multiverse and every universe inside of it, then he must be a really important person. “I’m Sans-” he started to say, not sure whether there was special protocol for introducing yourself to a Multiverse Guardian, but Ink was already cutting him off, flapping his hand impatiently at them. “No no no. There are way too many Sanses and Gasters floating about. Even I’m a Sans. We like to use... well I guess you’d call them nicknames. They help keep us from getting confused. More confused. Some people use the name of their AU, others ” Somewhat at a loss, Sans turned to look at Gaster, who only shrugged unhelpfully. Well alright then. A nickname huh? His thoughts raced back years and years, decades, centuries, all the way to that very first therapy session with Doctor Whimsol. She’d suggested that he didn’t have to be a Sans if he didn’t feel like one. For a while he’d toyed with various other names, mostly Fonts in the style of Skeleton naming conventions. But he’d never really made anything of it. Perhaps one of the ones he’d liked would do? Something that suited him the way that he was now. He’d changed a great deal since then. There was no way anyone would think of him in formal terms, even now. But he was a bit more serious, even though he tried to stay approachable. He wasn’t suffering from depression and guilt, and he was a lot more active than he had been. So something light-hearted but serious, informal like, with a sense of movement.... It came to him and he grinned suddenly. “Mistral,” he informed the Guardian of the Multiverse. “I’m Mistral.“ Looking intrigued, Ink nodded enthusiastically. “It suits you! A little rough of a font, sort of like brush writing, but with this... um... crystal stuff on your bones, it really works.” Oh yeah, Sans had forgotten about the Kenón still growing on him. It had sped up its growth a bit in the Void, which made sense because they were already connected. Small spikes of silvery-grey crystal were now easily seen growing up from the collar of his shirt and from his sleeves, and tiny lumps were beginning to form under his usual overcoat that betrayed the crystals growing underneath. “I think,” said Gaster suddenly, “That I would like to be known as Majuscule.” Sans stared at him. “You want to be named after Capitalized Letters?” he asked incredulously. It wasn’t a font. Though they weren’t really required to stick to those if they truly didn’t want to. But it was related enough that it was odd that Gaster would want to choose that of all things for a name. The smile the scientist gave him was a smug one. “When I use the Wingdings Sign variant it really doesn’t differentiate between Minuscule and Maguscule symbols like the font does in physical writing. And since I cannot speak it out loud and adjust the volume of my speech, it is as if I am saying everything in capitalized letters, constantly speaking with maximum intensity all the time.” Oh Angel, of course Gaster would choose something that convoluted. Sans groaned and rolled his eyes, surprisingly Ink only looked amused and actually giggled, his eyes flitting between an octothorp followed immediately by an S (#S) , an ecphoneme (!), an on/off symbol, and an asterisk (*). “I’m guessing you guys are new travelers to the Multiverse. That means you’re the ones I was looking for. You see, I felt a Universe die recently, and I went to go protect it from whatever was causing it to be destroyed. But it was dying on its own, of old age. I’ve never seen a Universe do that before, reach its natural ending. Then I found a trail in the Void, the sort of paths the River Folk make when they travel, and I knew that someone must have escaped before everything fell apart. And well... here you are!” Ink smirked and stuck out his tongue in a sort of “blep” way. Somewhere in the back of his head, Sans couldn’t help but notice that the tongue was rainbow hued. But now that he was reminded, he had more important questions. “Did you see anyone else?” He asked. “A ship in the Void? Any survivors? Papyrus? Well, my Papyrus anyway. He’s the Captain of the Royal Guard. And there were a lot of people on the ship before it fell into the Void. Please, if you’ve seen anything...” He trailed off hopefully. Ink’s eyes had suddenly become two ecphonemes (!). “Wait, there are more than just you two?” asked the Guardian excitedly. “It’s pretty rare we get more than a Sans or a Gaster. For some reason the Sanses seem to be inclined to go traveling more than others, though we do get Papyruses and Gasters here and there. But I don’t recall seeing a ship...hmmm.” Then Ink reached back and pulled on his scarf. Upon closer inspection, Sans could see all kinds of writing on it, scribbles and notes. Ink was using the thing as a planner. For a moment Ink squinted down at the scarf, searching through all the notes. They could see his mouth moving as he silently muttered some of the reminders he was reading. At last he looked up. “Nope, sorry. I haven’t seen any ship. But I’ll make a note to keep an eye out for one. I definitely don’t want to miss seeing that. Oh, but I did write down something else. I found this where your universe used to be.” And digging into his pocket, Ink produced something that was difficult to see. It was like a point, but without any width, depth, surface, or length. It flickered strangely and Sans heard Gaster’s intake of breath behind him. “There it is!” said the Scientist as he stepped forward, reaching for the thing. “The last fragment. The final percentage. What bit of me are you hiding in such a small form?” His hand closed around it and he closed his eyes, looking triumphant and relieved. Just as quickly he snapped them back open again in alarm. “Sans!” “What?” “I had three assistants, Sans. Three! Not four! I don’t know who Goner actually is!” * * * The Tem had managed to push the wreckage away from itself, freeing its trapped hind leg. Nobody else was in this part of the Ship, mostly being occupied in repair work or attempts to plan and reorganize. He’d volunteered to come out here and replace the spark plugs in this area because it would make it easier to get away from people for a while. A low creak, like metal under strain, made him turn. It was similar to the sound he’d heard earlier before the ceiling fell. This ship had taken a lot of damage in the crash, it was no wonder it was all falling apart at the seams. There was no one there. Yeah, probably just more infrastructure damage from the crash that needed to be repaired. Turning back brought him face to face with the grey torso of Goner, who was looming over him with his pale whitish-grey eyes. “Your name is Bob, right?” Said Goner in an expressionless tone. It wasn’t really a question exactly. More like a statement with a question tacked onto the end like an afterthought. Suddenly Goner’s expression seemed almost sly, sinister. Perhaps it was just the lighting, but the Tem shrank from the Monster as he leaned forward. “My name is Goner, I have a feeling we’re going to be very good friends.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ink!Sans belongs to @comyet Special Thanks to @msaoa12345 for their continued reblogging, praise, and excitable and positive commentary. Without their support, this story wouldn’t be anywhere near finished.

[the-river-person]

Entry Number 16

✋︎ ♋︎❍︎ ♋︎ ⧫︎♏︎❒︎❒︎♓︎♌︎●︎♏︎ ◻︎♏︎❒︎⬧︎□︎■︎📬︎ [I am a terrible person.]

☜︎❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ✋︎ ⧫︎□︎●︎♎︎ ✌︎⬧︎♑︎□︎❒︎♏︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ❄︎□︎❒︎♓︎♏︎●︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ⧫︎❒︎◆︎♏︎📬︎ ☠︎♏︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎ ✌︎●︎◻︎♒︎⍓︎⬧︎ ■︎□︎❒︎ ☼︎♏︎♋︎●︎♓︎⬧︎ ⬥︎□︎◆︎●︎♎︎ ♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ♐︎□︎●︎●︎□︎⬥︎ ❍︎♏︎ ♓︎♐︎ ✋︎ ♎︎♏︎♍︎♏︎♓︎❖︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ 😐︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ✈︎◆︎♏︎♏︎■︎📬︎ 👌︎◆︎⧫︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♓︎●︎●︎📪︎ ✋︎ ◻︎●︎♋︎⍓︎♏︎♎︎ ◆︎◻︎□︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎♓︎❒︎ ❒︎♏︎♑︎❒︎♏︎⧫︎⬧︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎♓︎❒︎ ♐︎♏︎♋︎❒︎⬧︎📪︎ ◆︎◻︎□︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⧫︎❒︎♋︎♑︎♏︎♎︎⍓︎ □︎♐︎ ♎︎♏︎♋︎❒︎ ☝︎♏︎❒︎⬧︎□︎■︎📬︎ ✋︎ ⬥︎♓︎●︎●︎ ♎︎□︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ✋︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♒︎♏︎●︎◻︎ ♒︎♓︎❍︎📪︎ ⧫︎□︎ 🙵♏︎♏︎◻︎ ♒︎♓︎❍︎ ♐︎❒︎□︎❍︎ ☞︎♋︎●︎●︎♓︎■︎♑︎ 👎︎□︎⬥︎■︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎ 🙰◆︎⬧︎⧫︎ ♋︎ ●︎♓︎⧫︎⧫︎●︎♏︎ ♌︎♓︎⧫︎ ●︎□︎■︎♑︎♏︎❒︎📬︎ ☹︎□︎■︎♑︎ ♏︎■︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎ ❍︎♏︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⬧︎♒︎□︎⬥︎ ♒︎♓︎❍︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎◆︎■︎📬︎ ☟︎♏︎ ♎︎♏︎⬧︎♏︎❒︎❖︎♏︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ❍︎◆︎♍︎♒︎📬︎ ❄︎□︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎◆︎■︎ ♋︎♑︎♋︎♓︎■︎📬︎📬︎📬︎ [Everything I told Asgore and Toriel was true. Neither Alphys nor Realis would ever follow me if I deceived the King and Queen. But still, I played upon their regrets and their fears, upon the tragedy of dear Gerson. I will do whatever I can to help him, to keep him from Falling Down for just a little bit longer. Long enough for me to show him the sun. He deserves that much. To see the sun again...]

❄︎♒︎♏︎ ◻︎❒︎♏︎◻︎♋︎❒︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎⬧︎ ♋︎❒︎♏︎ ◆︎■︎♎︎♏︎❒︎⬥︎♋︎⍓︎📬︎ ✋︎ ♋︎❍︎ ♑︎♋︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎⬧︎ ❍︎◆︎♍︎♒︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♍︎❒︎⍓︎⬧︎⧫︎♋︎●︎●︎♓︎■︎♏︎ ❍︎♓︎■︎♏︎❒︎♋︎●︎📪︎ 😐︎♏︎■︎⬄︎■︎📪︎ ♋︎⬧︎ ✋︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎📬︎ 💣︎♋︎♍︎♒︎♓︎■︎♏︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎❒︎◆︎❍︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ♏︎■︎♏︎❒︎♑︎⍓︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ❒︎♋︎♎︎♓︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎ ♒︎♏︎♋︎⧫︎ ♋︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎⍓︎ ⬥︎□︎❒︎🙵 ♋︎●︎●︎ ■︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎📪︎ ♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎ ■︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎📬︎ 👎︎♓︎♑︎♑︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎⬥︎♋︎⍓︎ ♋︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬥︎♋︎●︎●︎⬧︎ □︎♐︎ ❍︎⍓︎ □︎■︎♍︎♏︎ ⧫︎♓︎■︎⍓︎ ♍︎♋︎❖︎♏︎📬︎ ☟︎□︎⬥︎ ♎︎♏︎♏︎◻︎ ♎︎□︎♏︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ❖︎♏︎♓︎■︎ □︎♐︎ □︎❒︎♏︎ ♑︎□︎✍︎ ☟︎□︎◻︎♏︎♐︎◆︎●︎●︎⍓︎ ♎︎♏︎♏︎◻︎ ♏︎■︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎📬︎ [The preparations are underway. I am gathering as much of the crystalline mineral, Kenón, as I can. Machines thrum with energy and radiate heat as they work all night, every night. Digging away at the walls of my once tiny cave. How deep does this vein of ore go? Hopefully deep enough.]

✌︎●︎◻︎♒︎⍓︎⬧︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ❒︎♏︎⬧︎◻︎□︎■︎⬧︎♓︎♌︎●︎♏︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ◻︎❒︎♓︎❍︎♋︎❒︎⍓︎ ♎︎♏︎⬧︎♓︎♑︎■︎📬︎ 💧︎♒︎♏︎ ♍︎♋︎❍︎♏︎ ♋︎♍︎❒︎□︎⬧︎⬧︎ ♋︎■︎ ♓︎●︎●︎◆︎⬧︎⧫︎❒︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ □︎♐︎ ♋︎ ⬧︎♒︎♓︎◻︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ⬧︎♋︎♓︎●︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎♒︎❒︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♋︎❒︎⬧︎ ♓︎■︎ □︎■︎♏︎ □︎♐︎ ♒︎♏︎❒︎📬︎📬︎📬︎ 💣︎♋︎■︎♑︎♋︎✍︎ [Alphys is responsible for the primary design. She came across an illustration of a ship that sailed through the stars in one of her... Manga?]

❄︎♒︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ✞︎□︎♓︎♎︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎ ⬧︎⧫︎❒︎♋︎■︎♑︎♏︎ ♓︎■︎ ■︎♋︎⧫︎◆︎❒︎♏︎📪︎ ♋︎ ⬧︎♒︎♓︎◻︎ ⬧︎◻︎♏︎♍︎♓︎♋︎●︎●︎⍓︎ ❍︎♋︎♎︎♏︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ●︎♋︎❒︎♑︎♏︎ ♋︎❍︎□︎◆︎■︎⧫︎⬧︎ □︎♐︎ 😐︎♏︎■︎⬄︎■︎ ♓︎■︎ ♋︎ ❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎ ♋︎●︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎♏︎♎︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎❍︎ ❍︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎ ♌︎♏︎ ♋︎♌︎●︎♏︎ ⧫︎□︎ ■︎♋︎❖︎♓︎♑︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎❒︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ❖︎□︎♓︎♎︎📪︎ ♌︎⍓︎ ⧫︎❒︎♋︎■︎⬧︎♐︎□︎❒︎❍︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♓︎⧫︎📬︎ [Though the Void is very strange in nature, a ship specially made with large amounts of Kenón in a very altered form might be able to navigate through the void, by transforming it.]

✋︎ ♒︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ ❍︎♋︎♎︎♏︎ ❍︎♋︎■︎⍓︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎♏︎⬧︎ □︎■︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎□︎❒︎♓︎♏︎⬧︎ ♍︎□︎■︎♍︎♏︎❒︎■︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♐︎□︎◆︎■︎♎︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎⬧︎ □︎♐︎ □︎◆︎❒︎ 🕆︎■︎♓︎❖︎♏︎❒︎⬧︎♏︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♋︎●︎●︎ 🕆︎■︎♓︎❖︎♏︎❒︎⬧︎♏︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ●︎♓︎♏︎ ♌︎♏︎⍓︎□︎■︎♎︎ ♓︎⧫︎📬︎ 💣︎⍓︎ ⧫︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎⬧︎ □︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ 😐︎♏︎■︎⬄︎■︎📪︎ ♍︎□︎❍︎♌︎♓︎■︎♏︎♎︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ●︎♓︎⧫︎⧫︎●︎♏︎ ♎︎♋︎⧫︎♋︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ⬧︎♋︎❖︎♏︎♎︎ ♐︎❒︎□︎❍︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ □︎●︎♎︎ ♏︎⌧︎◻︎♏︎❒︎♓︎❍︎♏︎■︎⧫︎⬧︎📪︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎❍︎⬧︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♍︎□︎■︎♐︎♓︎❒︎❍︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ♒︎⍓︎◻︎□︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎⬧︎♏︎⬧︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎ ✞︎□︎♓︎♎︎ ♎︎□︎♏︎⬧︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎❍︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♌︎♏︎ ♋︎ ◆︎■︎♓︎❖︎♏︎❒︎⬧︎♏︎ □︎♐︎ ♓︎⧫︎⬧︎ □︎⬥︎■︎📬︎ ✡︎♏︎⧫︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ♏︎⌧︎♋︎♍︎⧫︎●︎⍓︎ ♋︎ ⬧︎◻︎♋︎♍︎♏︎ ♌︎♏︎⧫︎⬥︎♏︎♏︎■︎ ◆︎■︎♓︎❖︎♏︎❒︎⬧︎♏︎⬧︎ ♏︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎📪︎ ⬧︎♓︎■︎♍︎♏︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ♎︎□︎♏︎⬧︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ♏︎■︎♍︎□︎❍︎◻︎♋︎⬧︎⬧︎ ◻︎♒︎⍓︎⬧︎♓︎♍︎♋︎●︎ ⬧︎◻︎♋︎♍︎♏︎ ♋︎⧫︎ ♋︎●︎●︎📪︎ ■︎□︎❒︎ ⧫︎♓︎❍︎♏︎📬︎ ✋︎⧫︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎📬︎ 👌︎◆︎⧫︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ❒︎♏︎⬧︎◆︎●︎⧫︎⬧︎ ♒︎♓︎■︎⧫︎ ♋︎⧫︎ ♋︎■︎□︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎ ✞︎□︎♓︎♎︎📪︎ ♎︎♓︎♐︎♐︎♏︎❒︎♏︎■︎⧫︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎ ♋︎■︎⧫︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎⬧︎♓︎⬧︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ □︎■︎♏︎📪︎ ⍓︎♏︎⧫︎ ♍︎□︎■︎■︎♏︎♍︎⧫︎♏︎♎︎📬︎ ✋︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ✞︎□︎♓︎♎︎ ✋︎ ⬧︎♋︎⬥︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎📪︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ✌︎■︎⧫︎♓︎📫︎✞︎□︎♓︎♎︎ ❍︎◆︎⬧︎⧫︎ ♌︎♏︎ ♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎ ⬥︎♋︎❒︎◻︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬥︎♏︎♐︎⧫︎📬︎ 👌︎◆︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ♋︎●︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎■︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎ ✞︎□︎♓︎♎︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ❍︎♏︎❒︎♏︎●︎⍓︎ ♍︎□︎■︎🙰♏︎♍︎⧫︎◆︎❒︎♏︎ ◆︎◻︎□︎■︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ◻︎♋︎❒︎⧫︎📪︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎♏︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ●︎♓︎⧫︎⧫︎●︎♏︎ ♏︎■︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⬧︎◆︎♑︎♑︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ♏︎❖︎♏︎■︎ ⧫︎❒︎◆︎●︎⍓︎ ♏︎⌧︎♓︎⬧︎⧫︎⬧︎📬︎ [I have made many notes on my theories concerning the foundations of our Universe and all Universes that lie beyond it. My tests on the Kenón, combined with what little data was saved from the old experiments, seems to confirm my hypotheses. The Void doesn't seem to be a universe of its own. Yet it is not exactly a space between universes either, since it doesn't encompass physical space at all, nor time. It is nothing and everything. But my results hint at another Void, different. The antithesis of this one, yet connected. If the Void I saw was nothing and everything, then this Anti-Void must be everything and nothing. The warp and the weft. But this alternate Void is merely conjecture upon my part, there is little enough to suggest it even truly exists.]

☟︎□︎⬥︎♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎📪︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ✞︎□︎♓︎♎︎ ✋︎ ♒︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎■︎📬︎ ✋︎⧫︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ☠︎□︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎📪︎ ♓︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♍︎●︎♏︎♋︎❒︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎ ⬧︎♏︎■︎⬧︎♏︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬥︎□︎❒︎♎︎📬︎ ✋︎♐︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ●︎□︎□︎🙵 □︎■︎ ♓︎⧫︎📪︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♎︎□︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎ ♎︎♋︎❒︎🙵■︎♏︎⬧︎⬧︎📪︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♎︎□︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎ ●︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎📪︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♎︎□︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎ ⬧︎◻︎♋︎♍︎♏︎📬︎ ✋︎⧫︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ●︎♓︎🙵♏︎ ⧫︎❒︎⍓︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♓︎❍︎♋︎♑︎♓︎■︎♏︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♋︎ ⬧︎❑︎◆︎♋︎❒︎♏︎ ♍︎♓︎❒︎♍︎●︎♏︎ ●︎□︎□︎🙵⬧︎ ●︎♓︎🙵♏︎📪︎ □︎❒︎ ♒︎□︎⬥︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎ ♋︎ ♑︎❒︎♓︎■︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎□︎◆︎⧫︎ ♋︎ ♍︎♋︎⧫︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♑︎❒︎♓︎■︎ ♓︎⧫︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎ ❍︎♓︎■︎♎︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ⧫︎❒︎◆︎●︎⍓︎ ♎︎□︎ ♓︎⧫︎📬︎ ☹︎□︎♑︎♓︎♍︎♋︎●︎ ♓︎❍︎◻︎□︎⬧︎⬧︎♓︎♌︎♓︎●︎♓︎⧫︎♓︎♏︎⬧︎📬︎ ✡︎□︎◆︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♓︎⬧︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎♏︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎📪︎ ⬧︎□︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ❍︎♓︎■︎♎︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎♍︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♐︎♓︎■︎♎︎ □︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎ ❍︎♏︎♋︎■︎⬧︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♓︎■︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎◻︎❒︎♏︎⧫︎📬︎ [However, the Void I have seen. It is Nothing, in the clearest sense of the word. If you look on it, you don't see darkness, you don't see light, you don't see space. It is like trying to imagine what a square circle looks like, or how you can see a grin without a cat to grin it. The mind can't truly do it. Logical impossibilities. You can't see what isn't there to see, so the mind is forced to find other means to interpret.]

✡︎□︎◆︎ ♍︎□︎◆︎●︎♎︎ ◻︎□︎⬧︎⬧︎♓︎♌︎●︎⍓︎ ♓︎❍︎♋︎♑︎♓︎■︎♏︎ ♋︎ ♑︎❒︎♓︎■︎📪︎ ❍︎♏︎❒︎♏︎●︎⍓︎ ⧫︎♏︎♏︎⧫︎♒︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ◻︎♏︎❒︎♒︎♋︎◻︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♏︎♎︎♑︎♏︎⬧︎ □︎♐︎ ♋︎ ❍︎□︎◆︎⧫︎♒︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♑︎◆︎❍︎⬧︎📪︎ ♐︎●︎□︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♓︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♋︎♓︎❒︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎□︎◆︎⧫︎ ♌︎♏︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎⧫︎⧫︎♋︎♍︎♒︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ❒︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♌︎□︎♎︎⍓︎📬︎ 👌︎◆︎⧫︎ ♋︎●︎●︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎□︎⬧︎♏︎ ◻︎♒︎⍓︎⬧︎♓︎♍︎♋︎●︎ ♍︎□︎❍︎◻︎□︎■︎♏︎■︎⧫︎⬧︎ ♋︎❒︎♏︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♓︎●︎●︎ ⧫︎♏︎♍︎♒︎■︎♓︎♍︎♋︎●︎●︎⍓︎ ♋︎ ◻︎♋︎❒︎⧫︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♍︎♋︎⧫︎🕯︎⬧︎ ❍︎□︎◆︎⧫︎♒︎📪︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎⍓︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎❍︎⬧︎♏︎●︎❖︎♏︎⬧︎ ♋︎❒︎♏︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♑︎❒︎♓︎■︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎ ♑︎❒︎♓︎■︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ♋︎■︎ ♋︎♍︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎📪︎ ♋︎ ⬥︎♋︎⍓︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎ ⧫︎♒︎□︎⬧︎♏︎ ◻︎♋︎❒︎⧫︎⬧︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♌︎♏︎📬︎ ✋︎⧫︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎■︎□︎⧫︎ ♏︎⌧︎♓︎⬧︎⧫︎ □︎■︎ ♓︎⧫︎⬧︎ □︎⬥︎■︎📪︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎□︎◆︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ◻︎♋︎❒︎⧫︎⬧︎ ⬥︎♏︎ ❍︎♏︎■︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎📬︎ ✡︎♏︎⧫︎📪︎ ♓︎♐︎ ♋︎⬧︎🙵♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♓︎❍︎♋︎♑︎♓︎■︎♏︎ ♋︎ ♑︎❒︎♓︎■︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎□︎◆︎⧫︎ ♋︎ ♍︎♋︎⧫︎📪︎ □︎◆︎❒︎ ❍︎♓︎■︎♎︎⬧︎ ♍︎□︎◆︎●︎♎︎ ❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎ ⬥︎♏︎●︎●︎ ♍︎□︎❍︎♏︎ ◆︎◻︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ⬧︎◆︎♍︎♒︎ ♋︎■︎ ♓︎❍︎♋︎♑︎♏︎📬︎ 🕆︎■︎♋︎♌︎●︎♏︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♍︎❒︎♏︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎ ♋︎ ●︎♓︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎♋︎●︎ ♓︎❍︎◻︎□︎⬧︎⬧︎♓︎♌︎♓︎●︎♓︎⧫︎⍓︎📪︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ❍︎♋︎⍓︎ ♋︎⧫︎⧫︎♏︎❍︎◻︎⧫︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♍︎❒︎♏︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ■︎♏︎⌧︎⧫︎ ♌︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎📪︎ ⬧︎□︎❍︎♏︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♍︎●︎□︎⬧︎♏︎ ♏︎■︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♍︎□︎■︎♍︎♏︎◻︎⧫︎📪︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♓︎♎︎♏︎♋︎📪︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♍︎□︎❍︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎❒︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎📪︎ ⬥︎♒︎♓︎●︎♏︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ♌︎♏︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎■︎ ♏︎⌧︎♋︎♍︎⧫︎ ❍︎♋︎⧫︎♍︎♒︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ♒︎♋︎◻︎◻︎♏︎■︎♓︎■︎♑︎📬︎ [You could possibly imagine a grin, merely teeth and perhaps the edges of a mouth and gums, floating in the air without being attached to the rest of the body. But all of those physical components are still technically a part of the cat's mouth, they themselves are not the grin. The grin is an action, a way for those parts to be. It cannot exist on its own, without the parts we mention. Yet, if asked to imagine a grin without a cat, our minds could very well come up with such an image. Unable to create a literal impossibility, it may attempt to create the next best thing, something close enough for the concept, the idea, to come through, while not being an exact match to what is happening.]

❄︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ⧫︎□︎□︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♒︎♋︎◻︎◻︎♏︎■︎⬧︎ ⬥︎♒︎♏︎■︎ ⬥︎♏︎ ♑︎♋︎⌘︎♏︎ ◆︎◻︎□︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ❖︎□︎♓︎♎︎📬︎ ✋︎ ❍︎⍓︎⬧︎♏︎●︎♐︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎■︎□︎⧫︎ ⧫︎❒︎◆︎●︎⍓︎ ♎︎♏︎⬧︎♍︎❒︎♓︎♌︎♏︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎♏︎📪︎ ♌︎◆︎⧫︎ ♓︎■︎ ⧫︎❒︎⍓︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⧫︎□︎ ◻︎♓︎♍︎⧫︎◆︎❒︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ❍︎♏︎❍︎□︎❒︎⍓︎ ♓︎■︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ♒︎♏︎♋︎♎︎📪︎ ❍︎□︎❒︎♏︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ❍︎□︎❒︎♏︎ ✋︎ ◻︎♓︎♍︎⧫︎◆︎❒︎♏︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ♋︎⬧︎ ●︎♓︎❖︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⬧︎♒︎♋︎♎︎□︎⬥︎⬧︎📪︎ ♑︎♋︎⌘︎♓︎■︎♑︎ □︎◆︎⧫︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ⬥︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎◻︎♏︎❒︎♓︎■︎♑︎📪︎ ⬥︎♋︎⧫︎♍︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎📪︎ ⬥︎♋︎♓︎⧫︎♓︎■︎♑︎📪︎ ⬥︎□︎■︎♎︎♏︎❒︎♓︎■︎♑︎📬︎ 🏱︎❒︎♓︎❍︎◆︎⬧︎ ♎︎♏︎⬧︎♍︎❒︎♓︎♌︎♏︎♎︎ ♋︎ ●︎♋︎■︎♎︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ■︎□︎ ●︎♋︎■︎♎︎📪︎ ⬧︎♏︎⬥︎■︎ ⧫︎□︎♑︎♏︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎ ♐︎❒︎□︎❍︎ ♐︎❒︎♋︎♑︎❍︎♏︎■︎⧫︎⬧︎ □︎♐︎ ⬥︎□︎❒︎●︎♎︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ■︎♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ♎︎♓︎♎︎📪︎ ■︎♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ⬥︎♓︎●︎●︎📪︎ ❍︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎ ♒︎♋︎❖︎♏︎📪︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♓︎●︎●︎ ❍︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎ □︎■︎♏︎ ♎︎♋︎⍓︎ ♏︎⌧︎♓︎⬧︎⧫︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎ ❍︎□︎❒︎♏︎ ✋︎ ◻︎❒︎□︎❍︎◻︎⧫︎♏︎♎︎ ♒︎♓︎❍︎📪︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ❍︎□︎❒︎♏︎ ♒︎♏︎ ♎︎♏︎⬧︎♍︎❒︎♓︎♌︎♏︎♎︎ ♓︎⧫︎📪︎ ◆︎■︎⧫︎♓︎●︎ ✋︎ ❒︎♏︎♋︎●︎♓︎⌘︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♒︎♏︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ♏︎⌧︎⧫︎❒︎♋︎◻︎□︎●︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎□︎◆︎⧫︎ ♏︎❖︎♏︎■︎ ⧫︎❒︎◆︎●︎⍓︎ ❒︎♏︎♋︎●︎♓︎⌘︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♓︎⧫︎📬︎ ☟︎♓︎⬧︎ ❍︎♓︎■︎♎︎ ❍︎♋︎🙵♓︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎■︎ ♋︎◻︎◻︎❒︎□︎⌧︎♓︎❍︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎ ⬧︎□︎❍︎♏︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ♍︎□︎◆︎●︎♎︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ◻︎❒︎□︎◻︎♏︎❒︎●︎⍓︎ ♓︎■︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎◻︎❒︎♏︎⧫︎📬︎ [This too is what happens when we gaze upon the void. I myself cannot truly describe what was there, but in trying to picture that memory in my head, more and more I picture it as living shadows, gazing out and whispering, watching, waiting, wondering. Primus described a land that is no land, sewn together from fragments of world that never did, never will, might have, and still might one day exist. The more I prompted him, the more he described it, until I realized that he was extrapolating without even truly realizing it. His mind making an approximation for something it couldn't properly interpret.]

💧︎♏︎♍︎◆︎■︎♎︎◆︎⬧︎ ♍︎♋︎❍︎♏︎ ■︎♏︎⌧︎⧫︎📬︎ ❄︎♏︎●︎●︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ❍︎♏︎ □︎♐︎ ♋︎ ❖︎♋︎⬧︎⧫︎ ♏︎❍︎◻︎⧫︎⍓︎ ⬧︎◻︎♋︎♍︎♏︎📪︎ ♋︎ ◻︎●︎♋︎♍︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ●︎□︎■︎♑︎♏︎♎︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♋︎❒︎⬧︎ ♌︎◆︎⧫︎ ■︎□︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♋︎❒︎⬧︎ ⬥︎♏︎❒︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎♏︎📬︎ ✌︎ ♍︎□︎●︎♎︎ ◻︎●︎♋︎♍︎♏︎📬︎ 💧︎♓︎●︎♏︎■︎⧫︎📬︎ 💧︎♒︎♏︎ ♋︎◻︎◻︎♏︎♋︎❒︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♌︎♏︎ ❖︎♓︎⬧︎♓︎♌︎●︎⍓︎ ⬧︎♒︎♋︎🙵♏︎■︎ ♌︎⍓︎ ♒︎♏︎❒︎ □︎⬥︎■︎ ♓︎❍︎♋︎♑︎♏︎📪︎ ♏︎❖︎♏︎■︎ ♋︎♐︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎ ♍︎□︎❍︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ❒︎♏︎♋︎●︎♓︎⌘︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♋︎●︎●︎ □︎♐︎ ♒︎♏︎❒︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎❍︎♏︎■︎⧫︎⬧︎ ♋︎♌︎□︎◆︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ✞︎□︎♓︎♎︎ ⬥︎♏︎❒︎♏︎ ♌︎♏︎♍︎□︎❍︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♓︎■︎♍︎❒︎♏︎♋︎⬧︎♓︎■︎♑︎●︎⍓︎ ♍︎□︎■︎⧫︎❒︎♋︎♎︎♓︎♍︎⧫︎□︎❒︎⍓︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♐︎◆︎❒︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎ ♒︎♏︎❒︎ ❍︎♓︎■︎♎︎ ♌︎♏︎♑︎♋︎■︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⧫︎❒︎⍓︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♎︎♏︎♐︎♓︎■︎♏︎ ♓︎⧫︎📬︎ [Secundus came next. Telling me of a vast empty space, a place that longed for stars but no stars were there. A cold place. Silent. She appeared to be visibly shaken by her own image, even after coming to the realization that all of her statements about the Void were becoming increasingly contradictory the further her mind began to try and define it.]

❄︎♏︎❒︎⧫︎♓︎♋︎ ⬧︎♓︎❍︎◻︎●︎⍓︎ ♍︎□︎◆︎●︎♎︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ❒︎♏︎❍︎♏︎❍︎♌︎♏︎❒︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ♋︎⧫︎ ♋︎●︎●︎📬︎ ✌︎⬧︎ ♓︎♐︎ ♋︎ ♐︎❒︎♋︎♑︎❍︎♏︎■︎⧫︎ □︎♐︎ ❍︎♏︎❍︎□︎❒︎⍓︎ ♒︎♋︎♎︎ ⬧︎♓︎❍︎◻︎●︎⍓︎ ♌︎♏︎♏︎■︎ ⧫︎□︎❒︎■︎ ♋︎⬥︎♋︎⍓︎ ♐︎❒︎□︎❍︎ ♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ❍︎♓︎■︎♎︎ ●︎♓︎🙵♏︎ ♋︎ ◻︎♋︎♑︎♏︎ ♐︎❒︎□︎❍︎ ♋︎ ♌︎□︎□︎🙵📬︎ ☼︎♏︎❍︎□︎❖︎♏︎♎︎ □︎◆︎⧫︎❒︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎📪︎ ◻︎♏︎❒︎♒︎♋︎◻︎⬧︎ ♌︎⍓︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ❍︎♓︎■︎♎︎ ♓︎⧫︎⬧︎♏︎●︎♐︎📬︎ [Tertia simply couldn't remember it at all. As if a fragment of memory had simply been torn away from his mind like a page from a book. Removed outright, perhaps by the mind itself.]

☝︎□︎■︎♏︎❒︎ 😐︎♓︎♎︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ❍︎□︎⬧︎⧫︎ ♓︎■︎⧫︎❒︎♓︎♑︎◆︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♌︎⍓︎ ♐︎♋︎❒︎📬︎ ✋︎■︎⬧︎⧫︎♏︎♋︎♎︎ □︎♐︎ ♋︎■︎⬧︎⬥︎♏︎❒︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ❑︎◆︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎⬧︎ ♓︎■︎ ♋︎ ⬧︎⧫︎❒︎♋︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎♐︎□︎❒︎⬥︎♋︎❒︎♎︎ ❍︎♋︎■︎■︎♏︎❒︎📪︎ ♒︎♏︎ ♌︎♏︎♑︎♋︎■︎ ❑︎◆︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ❍︎♏︎ ♓︎■︎ ⧫︎◆︎❒︎■︎📬︎ ✂︎☟︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎■︎ ♋︎■︎ ♋︎⧫︎□︎❍︎ □︎♐︎ ☺︎◆︎⬧︎⧫︎♓︎♍︎♏︎✍︎ ✌︎ ❍︎□︎●︎♏︎♍︎◆︎●︎♏︎ □︎♐︎ ♒︎□︎◻︎♏︎✍︎ 🏱︎♏︎❒︎♒︎♋︎◻︎⬧︎ ♋︎ ◻︎♋︎❒︎⧫︎♓︎♍︎●︎♏︎ ⬥︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ □︎♐︎ ●︎□︎❖︎♏︎✍︎✂︎ ✋︎ ❒︎♏︎◻︎●︎♓︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ✋︎ ♒︎♋︎♎︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ♌︎♏︎♍︎♋︎◆︎⬧︎♏︎ ⬧︎◆︎♍︎♒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎⬧︎ ♎︎♓︎♎︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ♏︎⌧︎♓︎⬧︎⧫︎📬︎ ☟︎♏︎ ●︎□︎□︎🙵♏︎♎︎ ♋︎⧫︎ ❍︎♏︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ♌︎●︎♋︎■︎🙵 ♏︎⍓︎♏︎⬧︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ⬧︎❍︎♓︎●︎♏︎♎︎📬︎ ✂︎☠︎♏︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎ ♎︎□︎♏︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ✞︎□︎♓︎♎︎📬︎ 💧︎□︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎⍓︎ ♎︎□︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ♏︎⌧︎♓︎⬧︎⧫︎ ♓︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎♋︎❍︎♏︎ ◻︎●︎♋︎♍︎♏︎📬︎✂︎ ✋︎ ♋︎❍︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♓︎●︎●︎ ♎︎♏︎♏︎◻︎●︎⍓︎ ⬧︎♒︎♋︎🙵♏︎■︎ ♌︎⍓︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♓︎■︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎♋︎♍︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎📬︎ ☝︎□︎■︎♏︎❒︎ 😐︎♓︎♎︎ ♍︎□︎■︎⧫︎♓︎■︎◆︎♏︎⬧︎ ⧫︎□︎ ◆︎■︎⬧︎♏︎⧫︎⧫︎●︎♏︎ ❍︎♏︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ♍︎❒︎⍓︎◻︎⧫︎♓︎♍︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎❍︎♏︎■︎⧫︎⬧︎ □︎♐︎ ♋︎ ⬧︎♓︎❍︎♓︎●︎♋︎❒︎ ■︎♋︎⧫︎◆︎❒︎♏︎📬︎ [Goner Kid was the most intriguing by far. Instead of answering my questions in a straightforward manner, he began questioning me in turn. "Have you ever seen an atom of Justice? A molecule of hope? Perhaps a particle wave of love?" I replied that I had not because such things didn't exist. He looked at me with his blank eyes and smiled. "Neither does the Void. So they don't exist in the same place." I am still deeply shaken by the interaction. Goner Kid continues to unsettle me with cryptic statements of a similar nature.]

☟︎□︎⬥︎♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ☼︎♏︎♋︎●︎♓︎⬧︎ ⬥︎♒︎□︎ ⧫︎❒︎◆︎●︎⍓︎ ◻︎❒︎□︎❖︎♓︎♎︎♏︎♎︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ✋︎ ■︎♏︎♏︎♎︎♏︎♎︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♌︎❒︎♏︎♋︎🙵⧫︎♒︎❒︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎📬︎ ☟︎♓︎⬧︎ ♎︎♏︎⬧︎♍︎❒︎♓︎◻︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎⬧︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ❍︎□︎❍︎♏︎■︎⧫︎ ♒︎♏︎ ♌︎♏︎♍︎♋︎❍︎♏︎ ⚐︎❍︎♏︎♑︎♋︎ ☞︎●︎□︎⬥︎♏︎⍓︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎ ♎︎♋︎❒︎🙵 ◻︎●︎♋︎♍︎♏︎ ⬥︎♒︎♓︎♍︎♒︎ ♌︎□︎⧫︎♒︎ ♒︎♏︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ☞︎❒︎♓︎⬧︎🙵 ♐︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎📪︎ ⬥︎♒︎♏︎❒︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ☼︎♏︎⬧︎♏︎⧫︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ♍︎♒︎□︎⬧︎♏︎■︎📪︎ ⬥︎♒︎♏︎❒︎♏︎ ♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♌︎♏︎♑︎♓︎■︎⬧︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♏︎■︎♎︎⬧︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎◻︎♋︎♍︎♏︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎❍︎⬧︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♌︎♏︎ ♎︎♏︎♐︎♓︎■︎♏︎♎︎ ♌︎⍓︎ ♍︎♒︎□︎♓︎♍︎♏︎⬧︎📪︎ ♌︎⍓︎ ⧫︎♒︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎⬧︎📪︎ ♌︎⍓︎ ⧫︎♒︎□︎⬧︎♏︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎📬︎ ✌︎ ◻︎♋︎❒︎⧫︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ❖︎□︎♓︎♎︎ ❍︎♋︎♎︎♏︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♋︎♌︎●︎♏︎ ♌︎⍓︎ 👎︎♏︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎❍︎♓︎■︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ □︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎ ◻︎□︎⬥︎♏︎❒︎♐︎◆︎●︎ ♏︎❍︎□︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎⬧︎📬︎ [However it was Realis who truly provided what I needed for the breakthrough. His descriptions of the moment he became Omega Flowey. The dark place which both he and Frisk fought, where the Reset is chosen, where everything begins and ends. The space seems to be defined by choices, by thoughts, by those within. A part of the void made stable by Determination and other powerful emotions.]

✋︎ ♌︎♏︎●︎♓︎♏︎❖︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♓︎♐︎ ⬧︎◆︎♍︎♒︎ ♏︎❍︎□︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎⬧︎ ♋︎❒︎♏︎ ◻︎❒︎□︎◻︎♏︎❒︎●︎⍓︎ ◆︎⬧︎♏︎♎︎📪︎ ⬧︎◆︎♍︎♒︎ ♋︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♍︎□︎❍︎♌︎♓︎■︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ □︎♐︎ 👎︎♏︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎❍︎♓︎■︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ 😐︎♏︎■︎⬄︎■︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎❍︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♍︎❒︎⍓︎⬧︎⧫︎♋︎●︎♓︎⌘︎♏︎♎︎ ⬧︎◆︎♌︎⬧︎⧫︎♋︎■︎♍︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♍︎□︎❖︎♏︎❒︎⬧︎ 💧︎♋︎■︎⬧︎🕯︎ ♌︎□︎♎︎⍓︎📪︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎■︎ ◻︎♏︎❒︎♒︎♋︎◻︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ✞︎□︎♓︎♎︎ ♍︎□︎◆︎●︎♎︎ ♌︎♏︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎♍︎♏︎♎︎ ♓︎■︎⧫︎□︎ ♋︎■︎ ♋︎◻︎◻︎❒︎□︎⌧︎♓︎❍︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎❍︎📪︎ ⬧︎□︎❍︎♏︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⬥︎♏︎ ♍︎□︎◆︎●︎♎︎ ⧫︎❒︎♋︎❖︎♏︎●︎ ⧫︎♒︎❒︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎📬︎ ☞︎●︎⍓︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎♒︎♓︎◻︎ ⧫︎♒︎❒︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎📬︎ [I believe that if such emotions are properly used, such as the combination of Determination and Kenón to form the crystalized substance that covers Sans' body, then perhaps the Void could be forced into an approximate form, something we could travel through. Fly the ship through.]

☟︎□︎■︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎●︎⍓︎📪︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ♋︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ◻︎□︎♓︎■︎⧫︎ ⬥︎♒︎♏︎■︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ◻︎❒︎♏︎⬧︎♏︎■︎⧫︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ 🕿︎♏︎⌧︎◻︎●︎♋︎♓︎■︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ◻︎❒︎□︎🙰♏︎♍︎⧫︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♋︎●︎●︎ ⧫︎♒︎□︎⬧︎♏︎ ⬥︎♒︎□︎ ⬥︎□︎◆︎●︎♎︎ ♌︎♏︎ ♋︎⬧︎🙵♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⧫︎♋︎🙵♏︎ ♋︎■︎ ♋︎♍︎⧫︎♓︎❖︎♏︎ ◻︎♋︎❒︎⧫︎✆︎ ♌︎❒︎□︎🙵♏︎ ♎︎□︎⬥︎■︎ ♓︎■︎⧫︎□︎ ■︎□︎■︎⬧︎♏︎■︎⬧︎♏︎📬︎ ✌︎⬧︎♑︎□︎❒︎♏︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ♒︎♋︎❖︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♎︎♓︎♐︎♐︎♓︎♍︎◆︎●︎⧫︎⍓︎ ♑︎❒︎♋︎⬧︎◻︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♍︎□︎■︎♍︎♏︎◻︎⧫︎ ♋︎●︎⧫︎□︎♑︎♏︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎📪︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♒︎♏︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ □︎■︎●︎⍓︎ □︎■︎♏︎📬︎ ✌︎■︎♎︎ □︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎⬧︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎❍︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♒︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ ❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎ ♎︎♓︎♐︎♐︎♏︎❒︎♏︎■︎⧫︎ ♓︎♎︎♏︎♋︎⬧︎ ♋︎♌︎□︎◆︎⧫︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ⬥︎□︎◆︎●︎♎︎ ♌︎♏︎ ■︎♏︎♍︎♏︎⬧︎⬧︎♋︎❒︎⍓︎📬︎ [Honestly, it was at this point when my presentation (explaining the project to all those who would be asked to take an active part) broke down into nonsense. Asgore was having difficulty grasping the concept altogether, and he wasn't the only one. And others seemed to have very different ideas about what would be necessary.]

🕆︎■︎♎︎⍓︎■︎♏︎ ⬧︎◆︎♑︎♑︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎♏︎♎︎ ●︎□︎◆︎♎︎●︎⍓︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♓︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ✞︎□︎♓︎♎︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎♍︎♏︎♎︎ ♓︎■︎⧫︎□︎ ♋︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎❍︎📪︎ ❍︎♋︎⍓︎♌︎♏︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ❍︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎ ♌︎♏︎ ●︎♓︎❖︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎❍︎⬧︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎■︎ ⬥︎♏︎🕯︎♎︎ ♒︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♐︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎📬︎ ☠︎♋︎⧫︎◆︎❒︎♋︎●︎●︎⍓︎ ⬧︎♒︎♏︎ □︎♐︎♐︎♏︎❒︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⬧︎◆︎◻︎●︎♏︎⌧︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ⬥︎♋︎⬧︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎ ◆︎⬧︎📬︎ ✋︎ ◻︎□︎●︎♓︎⧫︎♏︎●︎⍓︎ ♎︎♏︎♍︎●︎♓︎■︎♏︎♎︎📪︎ ♒︎□︎◻︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⬧︎♒︎♏︎ ⬥︎□︎◆︎●︎♎︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ⧫︎❒︎⍓︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♓︎■︎⬧︎♓︎⬧︎⧫︎📬︎ 💧︎♋︎■︎⬧︎ ⬧︎◆︎♑︎♑︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎♏︎♎︎ ⬧︎□︎❍︎♏︎ 🙵♓︎■︎♎︎ □︎♐︎ ●︎♋︎⬧︎♏︎❒︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎■︎□︎■︎📪︎ ⬥︎♒︎♓︎♍︎♒︎ ♒︎♏︎ □︎♐︎♐︎♏︎❒︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ■︎♋︎❍︎♏︎ ✂︎☝︎♋︎⬧︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎ 👌︎●︎♋︎⬧︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎⬧︎✂︎📬︎ ✋︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎🙵 ♒︎♏︎🕯︎⬧︎ ♏︎■︎🙰□︎⍓︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♒︎♋︎❖︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎ ◻︎❒︎♓︎❖︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎ ●︎♋︎◆︎♑︎♒︎ ♋︎⧫︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ♏︎⌧︎◻︎♏︎■︎⬧︎♏︎📬︎ ✋︎ ■︎♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ♎︎♓︎♎︎ ♍︎□︎■︎♐︎♏︎⬧︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♍︎❒︎♏︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎□︎⬧︎♏︎ ♌︎●︎♋︎⬧︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎⬧︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ 😐︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ✈︎◆︎♏︎♏︎■︎📪︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ✋︎ ◻︎●︎♋︎■︎ ⧫︎□︎ ■︎♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ♒︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ ⧫︎□︎📪︎ ♋︎⬧︎ ●︎□︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎⬧︎ 💧︎♋︎■︎⬧︎ 🙵♏︎♏︎◻︎⬧︎ ❑︎◆︎♓︎♏︎⧫︎📬︎ [Undyne suggested loudly that if the Void was forced into a form, maybe it might be living forms. Then we'd have to fight. Naturally she offered to suplex whatever it was for us. I politely declined, hoping she wouldn't try to insist. Sans suggested some kind of laser cannon, which he offered to name "Gaster Blasters". I think he's enjoying having a private laugh at my expense. I never did confess the creation of those blasters to the King and Queen, and I plan to never have to, as long as Sans keeps quiet.]

✋︎ ♎︎♓︎♎︎📪︎ ♒︎□︎⬥︎♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎📪︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎♏︎ ♎︎□︎⬥︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎◆︎♑︎♑︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎❒︎♏︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ■︎□︎ ⬥︎♋︎⍓︎ ⧫︎□︎ ◻︎❒︎♏︎♎︎♓︎♍︎⧫︎ ♒︎□︎⬥︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ✞︎□︎♓︎♎︎ ⬥︎♓︎●︎●︎ ❍︎♋︎■︎♓︎♐︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎ ⬧︎◆︎♍︎♒︎ ♋︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎❍︎ ◆︎■︎⧫︎♓︎●︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ♎︎□︎♏︎⬧︎ ⬧︎□︎ 🕿︎✋︎♐︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ♎︎□︎♏︎⬧︎ ⬧︎□︎✆︎📬︎ ✌︎ ●︎♋︎⬧︎♏︎❒︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎■︎□︎■︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ♋︎⬧︎ ♑︎□︎□︎♎︎ ♋︎■︎ ♓︎♎︎♏︎♋︎ ♋︎⬧︎ ♋︎■︎⍓︎ ♓︎■︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♐︎♋︎♍︎♏︎ □︎♐︎ ⬧︎◆︎♍︎♒︎ ♋︎■︎ ◆︎■︎🙵■︎□︎⬥︎■︎📬︎ [I did, however, note down the suggestion. There is no way to predict how the Void will manifest such a form until it does so (If it does so). A laser cannon is as good an idea as any in the face of such an unknown.]

👎︎♋︎⍓︎ ♌︎⍓︎ ♎︎♋︎⍓︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎♒︎♓︎◻︎ ♑︎❒︎□︎⬥︎⬧︎ ♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎ ●︎♋︎❒︎♑︎♏︎❒︎📬︎ ✋︎ ♒︎□︎◻︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎♏︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ♏︎■︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎ □︎♐︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ❍︎♓︎■︎♏︎❒︎♋︎●︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♍︎❒︎♏︎♋︎⧫︎♏︎ ♓︎⧫︎📬︎ 👌︎◆︎⧫︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ♌︎♓︎♑︎♑︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎ ⬥︎□︎❒︎❒︎⍓︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ♒︎□︎⬥︎ ⧫︎□︎ ◻︎□︎⬥︎♏︎❒︎ ♓︎⧫︎📬︎ 👎︎♏︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎❍︎♓︎■︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ ⬥︎♓︎●︎●︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ♌︎♏︎ ♏︎■︎□︎◆︎♑︎♒︎📪︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎📬︎ [Day by day the ship grows ever larger. I hope that there is enough of the mineral to create it. But my biggest worry is how to power it. Determination will not be enough, not for this.]

✌︎⬧︎ ✋︎ ⬥︎❒︎♓︎⧫︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎📪︎ ✋︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎ ♒︎♏︎♋︎❒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎□︎◆︎■︎♎︎⬧︎ □︎♐︎ ⬥︎□︎❒︎🙵♏︎❒︎⬧︎ ❍︎□︎❖︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♓︎■︎ ♋︎ ♍︎□︎❍︎◻︎●︎♏︎⧫︎♏︎♎︎ ⬧︎♏︎♍︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♋︎♎︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♑︎❒︎□︎⬥︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⬧︎♒︎♓︎◻︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎ ♎︎♋︎⍓︎ ✋︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎ ♐︎♓︎■︎♎︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ♍︎♒︎♓︎●︎♎︎❒︎♏︎■︎ ♑︎❒︎□︎⬥︎⬧︎ ■︎♏︎♋︎❒︎♏︎❒︎📬︎ ❄︎□︎♎︎♋︎⍓︎ ✋︎ ♏︎❖︎♏︎■︎ ❒︎♏︎❍︎♏︎❍︎♌︎♏︎❒︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎♓︎❒︎ ■︎♋︎❍︎♏︎⬧︎📬︎ ☪︎♋︎◻︎♐︎📪︎ 👎︎♓︎■︎♑︎📪︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ 👌︎♋︎⧫︎⬧︎📬︎ 💣︎⍓︎ ⬧︎□︎■︎⬧︎📬︎📬︎📬︎ ✋︎ ⬥︎♓︎●︎●︎ ♐︎♓︎■︎♎︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎📪︎ ✋︎ ◻︎❒︎□︎❍︎♓︎⬧︎♏︎📬︎ [As I write this, I can hear the sounds of workers moving in a completed section to add to the growing ship. The day I can find my children grows nearer. Today I even remembered their names. Zapf, Ding, and Bats. My sons... I will find you, I promise.]