A whole bunch of YAP from Ryli's perspective ______ He wasn’t sure whether he had ever been awake or not. He couldn’t tell if the black void he remembered was his actual location, or just a filler for his absence of memories up until this point. Walking still felt rather strange, the sensation of the feeling of his feet on the ground– and the fact that he could touch things at all– felt rather shocking, even though it shouldn’t. He was here, alive. Though he was well aware that he shouldn’t. He hadn’t gone to the Quarters, despite not having been erased in a traditional manner– and his essence shouldn’t even be present anywhere except the past. For those erased traditionally, their essence still remained, meaning they could be brought back, and it was possible they could still be in some other dimension– but only the stars knew what that dimension was. Ryli hadn’t been erased, he knew that. There was no assistant or Centre present in his execution, and no special dagger that was laced with erasure either, yet he still proceeded to not exist. He should’ve been erased from all records entirely. Nobody should even remember him– but somebody had. Somehow. It went against all laws of what should have been, and instead created new laws of what /is/. Her informing others of his existence, usually through reminiscing on their childhood together, had seemed to partially bring his essence back, as the concept of him was re-introduced– which logically shouldn’t even have been possible. Though, since it wasn’t a universal power that had re-introduced it, that meant that he still technically did not exist, or shouldn’t. He was here, he was alive, but there was no trace of it. The stars themselves did not know. If he did not exist, yet also did exist, then that left him completely boundless– free to do as he pleased. But power had never been something he strived for. Even during the time when his existence had been proper, and there was a record of him living and breathing– his childhood– he had never wished for anything beyond just being here. He considered himself completely at peace being just an average person, or at the very least close to one. That was slightly ruined now, as he was not an average person– let alone a person at all– but his body was there to verify that he at the very least was here, which meant he could live just the same as he used to, so along as he never engaged with the complication of his very being. He got to choose whether or not to go back to being just a regularity, and he did. He had wanted nothing more. He didn’t want to be special in a mythic way, he did not want to be all-knowing, he did not want to be some curvature in the fabric of space, he just wanted to be alive. During his time of being completely flat, a smudge in time rather than a being, he had grown rather accustomed to being alone– at least he felt he had. The only thing he really ‘remembered’ was him being solitary in a pitch darkness. Not being around people– literally no one– just became normal to him in his head. So the idea of being around a bunch of people suddenly felt overwhelming. The nothingness hadn’t felt that long in his eyes, only a few minutes, time had curved wherever he ‘was’– but he still felt as if he had been alone forever. It was strange. He didn’t know how long it’d been, but he knew it had been long enough. Everything was strange now, but it was okay, he was just glad to be here.
Can you tell I locked in
