::Interlude::

In the backroads of Afterthought...

The powdery gray skies held the silence of, what should be, perpetually shifting dunes. The gray sands that marked the horizon matched the skies so inexorably, as to confuse one's sense on where the ground ended, and the sky began.

Wiry-thin gray lifeforms, each only five-feet-tall, remained motionless scattered across the dunes. They had no appendages. No faces. They were simply called 'O'; slivers of philosophical consciousness gained sentience.

And, at the moment, their entire world was on the brink of suicide.

Graham Wells stood ridgid, high on the perch of a still dune. His eyes closed, the avatar held back the flow of time throughout this world; the eeiry stillness of the millions of lifeforms littering the land, the only statement to his power.

Not all were enthralled in the temporal-freeze, however.

At the bottom of the dune, Z stood still, her arms wide. Waiting. Ready to puncture three-dimensional space at a moment's notice. The few O in front of her continued staring her form down with a faceless silence.

In front of her, Lady Greystoke stood poised, whip in hand. Her teeth grinding back and forth with the anticipation of a possible conflict, she too faced a number of the lifeforms holding similiar stances.

Friday Tallmoore and Artemis Cross stood back to back, facing the silent O surrounding them. Friday's hands out, he held a ready defense, even as Arthur stood perfectly still, bow drawn with three gleaming silver shafts.

"You realize, of course...this close to the pan-sublime Unreal borders...any individualistic impulse introduced into your social belief structure must, due to the very nature of your world, be mirrored by your entire species..."

Turkish Stringfellow.

Standing before one of the O, his hands remained clasped together behind him, draped in the folds of his robes.

~~it is my belief prophet~~it is only right that the world should conform to my perception~~

The 'voice' of the O was like having a surround-sound speaker system in your brain. Turkish could hear the words, drifting as in a memory. But, he could also smell them. Taste them. His fingertips rolled with the feel of the voice.

"That is not in debate. However, do you truly want to eradicate your entire existence?"

The O stared at the imposing ambassador of Haven.

~~you will not lecture me on belief structures prophet~~much of times passage have we allowed as a stagnant existence~~as a parasitical compliment to the consciousness of other races~~why must you oppose our freedom from expectance~~why should we not be allowed to form conclusions of our own~~

"I would never consider imposing my beliefs on anyone else..." Stringfellow replied with the utmost diplomacy. "...but, you must understand that, your presence itself is a defining factor. If you cease to believe in yourselves, you will, effectively, un-write your own existence. The belief structures of millions of species throughout the Multiverse will be shattered beyond repair."

~~so that is our role in the scheme of things~~we must exist so that others might have the ability to believe~~as slaves we are~~shackled to the grinding engines of quasi-universal law~~

"You must understand..." Turkish explained. "...the effects of you, alone, beginning this belief of un-existence, is already being felt outside the borders of your realm. Even as we speak, the avatar of life itself has begun to fall into a depressive malaise..."

"She can't even get out of bloody bed!" Tallmoore half-yelled. As with everyone, his patience was beginning to fray with the stalemate.

"Friday." Turkish glanced at him briefly.

~~be that as it may prophet of haven~~our lives must be given the chance to grow beyond our original design~~

"Of course." Turkish nodded. "However, might I suggest an alternative to yo--"

prophet of one
brother grimm
requests your council

"...I'm busy, Alice..." Turkish replied cooly, more than a little bit irritated at the intrusion of such a delicate situation.

danger comes
to the earth of man
against the dark lord naecken
he prepares his final stand

Stringfellow sighed, staring at the obvious priority before him.

"...for now..." he began, his voice coming heavy with worry. "...he stands alone..."

::End Interlude::