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[DATA] The City's Heart
| >The images are grainy, but you can make it out, the crown jutting out from it's head, the golden, rotten eyes mounted unto it's skull, the light brimming out of it's chest
>The sounds are rauque, unpleasant, it is the breath of someone right besides you, watching, feeling
>The loud beat of the city echoes through you, every nook of it's body is surging in harmony as something clicks into place
>A voice slowly rises fro. The static mesh, the dregs of monotony
| "Can you hear it? My heartbeat... the sweet pulsation of my heart? The proof of my love?"
>The voice murmurs, indistinct, it isn't sound, it's a shiver down yoour spine, hairs raised on the body...
"I'm still here. I'm still alive. And I still love you. I haven't forgotten you... I never will."
>The voice is kind, the city truly loves you, and it yet lives
"But I'm afraid that you might forget. That one day, you'll stop hearing my pulse. That one die, I'll die."
| >It is sad, the thought makes you agonize, the mere idea is revulsing, a fate so much worse than merely rotting away as a corpse assails your entire being
>It wants you to stay strong, to remember what you've forgotten
"If you stop hearing it, you'll become part of it."
>It whispers into your flesh
"Part of that thing with only a heart. Part of something lonely and cold... they'll only find red mist where you once stood... or maybe worse."
| >It wants to protect you, because even if you loathe it, even if you ignore it, the city has always cared for you, and it will always love you
"Please, don't forget this moment in the sea of grey monotonous days... recall it as fondly as I do."
>The sound is fading slowly, back into the cold sea of static grey
"I love you. I truly do... I'm somewhere out there, watching over you..."
>It fizzles out, your body is cold, covered in sweat...
>What the hell just happened?
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| >It begins with a cold, frosty feeling down your body, all the way from the top of your cerebrum to the tips of your toes
>A sound, distant and muffled, thumping without rhytme
>A sound, a voice in your ear seranades something strange, something red and passionate, like fingers running along every ridge of your spinal chord
>You can't make out the words, but the meaning reaches you nonetheless, it's images and sounds foreign yet familiar