When all this started, I made myself a promise that I wouldn't get drunk until this was over. After all, being drunk is not an optimal way to survive a Cosmic Horror story. Last night I came damn close to breaking that promise.
Sage? Me? Deities, even if I still believed that Core Theory worked I would have trouble with this one. I'm just an average woman trying to live through this mess. I think the only thing that sets me apart from any other Fighter or Runner is that I'm older then your average stalked. Other then that, I've had to live the same way everyone else has, fighting for my life, teetering on the edge of sanity.
Core Theory didn't work, doesn't work. We all know that. Robert is completely out of his mind, even more now then he was when he first created it. Insanity isn't necessarily a bad thing, especially for those of us that have seen the faceless wonder, but he's so far gone there is nothing left for him. If he were to ask me to follow him I would politely decline and then run as fast I could in the other direction. If I were to simply go by whether or not I trust in the person who created those titles to begin with, this wouldn’t be an issue.
But Robert isn't the one I need to care about. He's not the one who wants me to be this, is he?
Instead, I need to think the same things about Maduin. Is he insane? Oh yes, but in the right ways, the ways that you need to survive this mess without becoming a villain or if you’ll pardon my wording, a bad joke. Would I follow him? Well maybe not follow, but I would work with him in a bloody heartbeat. There's not so much of a difference between my balloons filled with rosemary water and his balloons filled with paint. Do I trust him? About as much as I can trust someone I've never met.
Which leads me back to square one. Sage? Me? I just don’t know. Maduin picked the three of us for a reason, so I’m not going to disrespect that by saying no, but I’m not going to let it get to me the way Zero did. No martyrdom here folks. I’m in this for the long haul.
If I have any words of wisdom, it’s because of what I’ve lived through, not because of a title. I’m the same woman that I was 24 hours ago. If people ask for advice I’ll give it. If people don’t want to talk to me that’s fine too. I can’t speak for them, but I suspect my newly appointed fellow sages (oh deities am I really saying this?) will agree. The only thing that this changes is that we can officially call ourselves a Power Trio now.
I know that it sounds silly to invoke another trope, but damn it I will use anything and everything to try and get me and mine out of this alive and sane.
So yes I accept this although I don’t see how it actually changes anything. I’m going to fight, but that’s something that I’ve been doing. In fact I actually ordered a few packages online yesterday that are going to make for a fun nonmagical experiment in self defense. I suppose that the bull’s eye that was already on my back got a nice coating of 80’s style neon color after last night, which means I’ll be testing it all out soon enough.
Long, tall, and faceless made his first appearance last night since the night I killed Tom. Staring at me from my picture window. But it’s not the same anymore. Yes it’s still sickening and terrifying to watch those too long limbs, that blank space where its face should be. I don’t think I will ever be able to look at it without shaking and feeling sick. Anyone that claims they can is a sociopath, an asshole, or a liar.
But its not the same kind of terror. Before I always felt hopeless and lost, like a child being overwhelmed by the dark. But I’ve faced the dark. I was dragged down into the dark, I was pulled out of it by my friends, and then I faced it down by myself and came out on the other side.
By hollowing Tom and sending him after me it tried to break me. And I will not be broken. The worst thing that it can do to me is kill me. And while I fully intend on sticking around for as long as possible, knowing that I won’t break makes the idea of dying while doing my damn best to take it down doesn’t scare me.
I’m still me. Kaylin Marie Davies, almost thirty one years old. I’m a woman and a witch. A godmother and a survivor. I’ve been stalked and hunted, tortured and abused.
And I guess now I’m a Sage as well.