Detail 1
Oh, you brave soul…” (or do we replace it with a Hmm, very quietly)
You are in perfect time, slowly moving forward in tune with your surroundings, with the breathing hum of this building, eyes still closed, mouth a whisper open, in curiosity, inching delicately forward closing the space that exists between you & this ‘yet to be known’ but you trust your decision & so you keep your eyes closed, the aroma stronger now with a little bit more of a honey savoring on your tongue, every intuitive step forward, so trusting of your surroundings it’s like you’ve inhabited not necessarily the space, but this moment, before (& hasn’t always that been the story of you, in this town?)
Delicate is a wrist that could so easily break with the proper application of pressure, this vapor is forming into something solid wrapping around your left wrist, like you are being guided & it compels you to stop (but your eyes are still closed) You are holding there, when this vapor trails to your hand, and it softly takes it.
How opposed would you be, to being tested, what are those desires you speak of so quietly, your own ears can’t even hear them. How would you know anything right now, you blank, canvas..
And then you feel it. A reminder presses softly against your mouth that you instinctively open your lips to, just a little bit. You have no memory, save for what it is your body reacts to – your only guide to how this all feels.
(pause)
How does it feel? Are you really being provided a choice when it comes to feeling. If you have no memory, no moral compass, what can you rely on save for what it is that you feel, by your instinct.
This is not a pathway choice you’re being provided, but the soft lips of something so agreeable, it feels like the lips of the only one permitted to give you this kind of a kiss.
It does not push. & you still, do not open your eyes. You’re telling me that you’re willing to trust, and you’re willing to be led, in a scenario presented to you not necessarily as polite, but adversarial.
The kiss fades, not necessarily withdraws, but the pull on your hand, has become a little more, insistent.
How do you move through this world? Are you an awkward stumbler always feeling like you’re about to fall ahead (note, you’re probing) Are you so afraid of everything that challenges or even intrigues, you raise no objection even if everything should tell you to feel the presence of something dangerous (though danger is really perspective, it could merely mean being emotionally compromised and not physically threatened) Are you bold, perhaps rooted in a little bit of foolishness but of the kind that at least dares to be a fool.
This building, is breathing louder & the aroma is becoming unfamiliar, now. You’ve never tasted this kind of a scent in your mouth ever, before.
A low groan settles in your throat from the dark ahead of you, & the pull now is a little more insistent & as the urgency in the pull is felt, you experience a flash of memory.
We can live, infinity, in a single second outside of conventional measurements of time, the horror of a single minute dragging without living anything, of the deeply meaningful.
A flash of memory can convey a feeling from an entire novel, and your book is on the 27th floor, in what was once broad daylight through the floor to ceiling windows, looking out over Parliament where everything was bathed in white, in bed with the person who loves you, with laughter and they whisper a secret in your ear that suddenly sends a chill like a dagger made of ice more like a pike that splits and spits you open like you’re gagging at the moment of death eviscerated by the very thing you love, laughing in your ear at how much of a fool you have been for falling for it all, gurgling up blood that is being lopped up with a far more ravenous of devouring than a mere soft kiss and this death you are presently experiencing is held in the single longest second of your life that you have ever experienced, right now, in your stillness, as if it were your entire life & you are now stuck in that single second.
And your eyes, closed as they are, and in the stunned silence that you be in, are registering that something is beginning to stir and brighten & is wanting you to open, your, eyes.
And now, you see the sunlight blackened out as Parliament, King, and Queen, are all now on so much fire, the sky is dark, in daylight, and the kiss on your mouth, has now turned into a laugh (whisper ‘& why would you willingly walk into a trap, of your design’)
And suddenly, a body, feeling like it were a naked form against your skin through your clothing, brushes up against you, and you feel a cold breath on your cheek, alarmed to find that this too, in feeling, is familiar.
We so seldom look on love, don’t we?
(pause)
This is an open pathway. You may make any decision or choice.
Choose your path.
You have two choices.
Obey & Open them? Or keep them closed?
Choose your path.
(Note, what if you’re the building as the DM and you’re the opposition itself – it allows you to be a little more savage as the narrative continues) (a little more after canvas?)