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Blue Light Breeze
097017
Your eyes dart over the adumbral chamber of the still, uniform figures to locate the source of the voice... and in short duration they find their mark.
"Plan?" you crow in a stark, hollow harmony, echoing his question. The abrasive contrast from your usual nebulous and wispy voice reins your entire audience into focused attention, though their forms never move.
Mirrored candles light in the twin voids of your sockets as your gaze firmly clutches at your pupil.
Your addressee instinctively turns his head several times to his statuesque colleagues knowing he'll find no aid, no sympathy from his peers. An anxious silence permeates the room.
And then you laugh.
A long, bitter, mirthless laugh absent of contentment, foreign to all hope and alien to any sense of satisfaction. A cheerless chorus of voices leaps to life as they join in your dispassionate mockery, all of them your own. As the rich, desperate tones fade to a menacingly gentle chuckle, you release your questioner and he slumps slightly in his place.
Your attendants remain silent, rigid and motionless throughout.
As your look down to the surface of the lectern between your hands clasped at its edges, you let out an inaudible sigh. "As if we, like The Almighty, had any such Grand Plan." You lean forward into a relaxed crouch, as if to invite your audience into the frivolous confidence of a child's secret. "No. Our plan," your eyes rekindle and narrow to the volume and brilliance of distant, viridian stars. "Is to bring down as many of those purchasable human hearts as we possibly can."
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