#Djall

[30ahchaleh]

"Dajjal"

Made with Powered by DALL·E 3. For @30ahchaleh

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در باور تمام ادیان ابراهیمی

از چندین چند نشانه ، قبل از آخرالزمان و ظهور نجات دهنده ، یکیش ظهور دجال‌هاست

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دجال یک فریب دهنده اعظم هست در مقیاس کلان

به کسی که بتواند فرا تر از اطرافیان و محله و شهر ، مردم کشوری را فریب بدهد دجال گویند وگرنه در مقیاس کوچک ما با یک دروغ گو و کلاه‌بردار مواج هستیم

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دجال ها در فریب چنان کارکشته هستند که میتوانند برای باطل خود پیروان بیشماری دست‌وپا کنند تا با آنها به جنگ حق روند در مقیاس بزرگ

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ولی ⭐️چرا⭐️ جمهوری اسلامی ِ"مهدی محور" با آگاهی از این موضوع ، آنچنان روی این نشانه از نشانه های ظهور مانور تبلیغاتی گسترده مثل بقیه‌ی نشانه ها نمیدهد ، شاید میترسند تعبیر نشانه ی با فریبِ ملت روی کار آمدن و ماندن ، گریبان خودشان را بگیرد

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این ⭐️چرا⭐️ را بگذارید کنار این باور هولناک ِ آنها که اعتقاد دارند مهدی هم آمدنی‌ست ، هم آوردنی‌یست! و در این اعتقاد چنان لفاظی میکنند که انحراف را هم برای خود! و هم برای پیروانشان غیرقابل مشاهده کردن برای همین است که به استعاره در روایت های اسلامی برای تصویر سازی دجال ها او را "باباغوری"(کوری عقل‌ودل) نشان میدهند که روی پیشانیش(خِرد،ذهن،شعور،…) کافر(کسی که روی چیزی را بپوشاند) نوشته شده است

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مثالی میزنم

سالیان دراز مردم سرزمینی از طغیان های فصلی رودخانه(شـَر) که همراهش خرابی و مرگ میآورد به تنگ آمده بودند به مرور پیامبران(آگاهان) نجات بخشی برای آن اهلی سدی ساختن تا محفوظ باشند با این دلگرمی که هرگاه این سد هم فرو ریخت نجات دهنده‌ای خواهد آمد ، "او که ما را فرستاد ، نجات دهنده را به وقت لزوم خواهد فرستاد ، نگران نباشید"ـ

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بیماری و پزشک

حال وظیفه ما اهالی این هست که دعا کنیم نجات دهنده بیاید یا آنکه دعا کنیم آن سد نریزد

زمینه های ظهور نجات دهنده را آماده کنیم (به این جمله دقت کنید) یا زمینه های بازسازی سد را مهیا کنیم تا ظهور رخ ندهد

به معنویات خود چنان بیافزاییم که در نور ، قدر نور را بدانیم یا همچنان چنان باشیم که در ظلمت ، قدر شناس نور باشیم

شعار روی پرچم‌مان چه باشد بهتر است؟

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یادآوری میکنم

آنها که در زمینه جنگ سواد نظامی دارند میدانند جنگ فرسایشی ایران خمینی و عراق صدام چرا و چگونه آغاز ، چرا و چگونه پایان یافت

و باز میدانند چرا و چگونه در زمان ایران پهلوی با تمام علاقه صدام به جنگ چنین حادثه‌ی ایران خراب کنی رخ نداد

حال بروید و بخوانید جواب طرفداران خمینی را وقتی از آنها سوال میشود چرا خمینی گفت جنگ برای ما یک نعمت بزرگ الهی بود چیست

بعد باز به اسناد رجوع کنید و انگولک های خمینی برای ایجاد جنگ با صدام جنگ دوست را مطالعه کنید

آنگاه شاید شاید بفهمید من چه میگویم

پهلوی دوم در صلح مثلا فهمید غرب طمعکار (این را بارها در سخنرانی هایش گوشزد میکرد) دوست نیست اما میتوان با شعور و خِرد او را به دشمن جنگ ساز هم تبدیل نکرد و خیلی چیزهای دیگر ولی برآیند شعور و خِرد در آن زمان با او یار نبود

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هشدار

به هر شکلی اگر به دلگرمی مهدی(نجات‌دهنده) اعتقاد دارید مشکلی نیست ، اما مواظب فریب دجال ها باشید که در سپاه آنها بکار گماشته نشوید و این مهم حاصل نمیشود مگر آنکه کمی خِرد را در معنویات خود اضافه کنید

END

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ای گشته جهان و خوانده دفتر

بندیش ز کار خویش بهتر

سوراخ شده است سد یاجوج

یک چند حذر کن ای برادر

بر منبر حق شده است دجال

خامش بنشین تو زیر منبر

ناصرخسرو

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گوئیم بتوفیق خدایتعالی که حدیث دجال میان امت معروف است هر کسی گوید از فتنه دجال حذر باید کردن ولیکن نخست آن واجب است که چیزی را بشناسی تا ازو حذر توانی کرد و کسی زهر نشناسد مخاطره باشد کزو بخورد بنادانی...ـ

ناصرخسرو

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[aphungay]

SEASON'S GREASON'S

[ocs-of-the-c]

I'm gonna give you... Favorite, Canvas, Roots, and Formal for Samelle And even though not in the tags Glance, Day, and Motion for Vexan! :) -WayfinderLegacy

Thanks so much for the ask! I love any excuse to yell about my OCs. Buckle up, this is gonna get LONG.

SAMELLE

Favorite: Growing up on Balmorra, even good clothing was hard to get. Fancy clothing? Forget it. So it's no surprise that Sam's favorite accessory is a weapon, specifically a claymore. Looks something like this.

Lilmeli gave it to her after they both killed their first Imperial officer together. They were roughly eight, and Sam had beaten the man to death after he attempted to shoot Lilmeli. The problem was, they were supposed to keep the man alive and bring him back to the Resistance for interrogation. So Sam's parents screamed at her and said that she should have let Lilmeli die if it meant the mission succeeded. Sam told them to fuck off. That was the first time her father beat her.

Sam was crying in her room when Lilmeli came in with the claymore. She'd nicked it from the Imperial officer's quarters (he liked to steal pieces of Balmorran culture). Sam hugged her sister and hid that claymore until the day of her parents' betrayal. You can bet that claymore was one of the few things she took off-planet. Now that she has a metal arm, she can actually use the thing like a regular sword, which is terrifying to witness.

Initially, she didn't use it often, because the trauma from Balmorra was still fresh in her mind. She wanted to leave it all behind. But after going to Balmorra out of necessity for the class story, and confronting her parents as an adult, she has begun using the weapon in earnest. It's strapped to her back right along with her big-ass gun.

Canvas: As one might expect from a woman that started fighting for the Balmorran Resistance at age five and has never stopped since, Samelle has a veritable tapestry of scars to her name. The most obvious is her metal left arm, her cybernetic left eye, and the vicious scars on the left side of her face, which the character creator will NOT let me make as vicious as I would like. For reference, think of Two-Face from The Dark Knight.

Yeah, it's ugly. She does have all her hair though! Those scars are the result of her backstory. Her parents, Straken and Haleen, several years after the renewed Imperial push, want to back the winning side and save their own skins. They betray the Resistance to the Sith and Imperials in exchange for Lilmeli being sent to Korriban. By now, Lilmeli has displayed very minor Force sensitivity. Samelle walks in on masked Sith being ‘introduced’ to Lilmeli and gets angry. She pulls out a thermal detonator Jace Malcom style and blows the two Sith up, resulting in the scars mentioned above. Lilmeli pulls in every favor she has to get Sam prosthetics, and the two leave the planet as Imperials murder everyone they’ve ever known. The Republic military, the Jedi, and the Resistance are all pissed at the Arcfres. Sam joins a mercenary company that doesn’t ask questions, and Lilmeli goes to Nar Shaddaa.

Did I mention Sam was twelve at the time this all happened? Yeah.

Aside from that, it's various stab wounds, blaster shots, angry Balmorran wildlife (zeldrates will go for ANY body on the ground and will start feeding even if their prey is still alive), a Mandalorian flamethrower scar across her chest from when they escaped Balmorra (first but not the last time Sam fought a Mando), and Lichtenberg figures on her back and arms from prolonged Sith Lord electrocution as mentioned above. And the gut wound from Jemsyn is probably gonna scar, too.

No piercings, though. You get one of those yanked or burnt in a scrap and you're out of the fight. Sam's seen it happen.

She does, however, have a small tattoo. She got it after her mercenary company, the Sunhawks, were wiped out during the Sacking, leaving her as the only survivor. (Yeah, she saw aspects of the Sunhawks in the first Havoc Squad and finally felt like she had a family again. The betrayal was brutal). It's on her right shoulder blade, and it's a stylized persimmon silhouette of a hawk in front of a small golden sun. The whole thing is about the size of the palm of someone's hand. She knows you're not supposed to have any identifying markings as a soldier, but one, her face is kind of a dead giveaway, and two, anyone who knows the meaning of that tattoo isn't alive to tell anyone about it.

Roots: Samelle wouldn't know a fashion trend if it hit her over the head with a baseball bat. Her clothing style is practical, durable, and functional. However, I do have some specific roots and inspiration for her look. Balmorra's environment has always reminded me of the Scottish Highlands, so there's a lot of Scottish influence in Sam's fashion. Tartan, kilts, sgian-dubh (decorative knife), sporran (like a fanny pack for pocketless kilts), etc. I also snagged some Lord of the Rings influence. Think Aragorn and Boromir meet Scottish Highlands meet Commander Shepard and you'll have Sam's general fashion vibe.

Formal: Samelle doesn't love dressing up. She feels practically naked without her armor or at least one weapon on her person. Which is why regardless of her formal attire she ALWAYS makes sure to have a sgian-dubh with her formal outfit.

As for the outfit itself, Sam pretty much always wears a kilt for the bottom half. Regardless of her complicated relationship with her parents, Balmorra will always be her home, and she's proud of it. For the top of the outfit, it's something like this.

Think that, but minus the bottom half because a kilt goes there, and missing the left sleeve because of her metal arm. That's her general formal outfit.

She honestly doesn't see the point of having different looks for different occasions. Sure, it might be a little different depending on the event, like black for a funeral, but there will always be a kilt and a somewhat military-inspired top.

VEXAN

Glance: At first glance, it's Vexan's entire appearance that stands out. She is a Dathomirian Zabrak in the very heart of the Empire, with a Dark Council seat, and she doesn't wear a hood or mask. She doesn't see the need to hide. She's here, she earned her place here, and she can and will kill to keep it. Hiding would defeat the purpose. Oddly enough, she doesn't seem bothered by the glares, or the hissed insults. Upon closer inspection, there's an air of smugness about her. Like she relishes the rancor she's so skilled at generating. You get the feeling that everyone around her, save a select few, are chess pieces in a great game she's playing. You just have to hope you're not a piece she's decided to sacrifice.

Probably not what you were looking for, but Vexan has ensured that any physical scars or deformities or anything that marks her beyond being an alien is not readily visible to the public. Especially the raised scars from a whip on her back. Especially her badly burned neck from a shock collar.

Day: Vexan remembers years of ragged robes and threadbare socks. Years of begging for undergarments and being laughed at. Years of wearing literal rags while her masters lounged about in the finest Alderaanian silks. Well, no more. Now she is a member of the Dark Council, Darth Nox herself, and she will wear nothing less than what suits her status. On a normal day, she will wear luxurious robes or Sith fashion in shades of red, black, purple, dark blue, and gray. Not all at once, of course. That would be a fashion crime. An example of what she might wear in the day to day can be seen below.

One day it might be purple robes with dark blue inlay and a blue choker. Another day it might be gray robes trimmed with red, complete with a pale red scarf. Noticing a theme yet? Her default clothing must be fashionable, it must be expensive, and it must be able to cover her neck in some fashion. No one can see where the slave collar once lay. No one. She will give no one that advantage.

To that end, she wears a lot of jewelry, particularly necklaces. She has a special fondness for rubies and silver together. Blood and steel, but without all that.....messiness. Her sister may prefer a lightsaber, but Vexan is far more likely to electrocute you on the spot rather than pull out her saber. It's much more efficient.

Motion: Vexan was slightly clumsy when she was younger. That was quite literally beaten out of her during her years as a slave, and now she is flexible, coordinated, and nimble. She also moves almost silently, her feet barely making noise on the ground. Sneaking food to her fellow slaves ensured her default motion is something like a big cat's. Slow, graceful, but able to change speeds in an instant. She has, on several occasions, startled other new Sith with how silently she moves. They've asked her how she does it, but she'll never tell. A lady never reveals her secrets, after all.

This got really long, hope you like it! Some insight into my traumatized child soldier and my equally traumatized slave turned Sith!

[whileyouwait-dm]

4

Chapter 3

A new day dawns...

The morning after her arrival, Miriana awoke and looked through the closet.  She was surprised to find a wide variety of clothing, and all of it in her size.  There were some that weren’t quite her style, but most of them seemed like something she could at least make work.  Shoes lined the floor as well, once more in sizes that would fit her.  The dressers contained everything else she’d need for outfits.  From the amount it looked like she was going to be Djall’s guest for a while.  She guessed if he was going to provide for her like this, it wouldn’t be all bad.  How he, or someone he’d hired, had known her sizes was a mystery, but then maybe when you are the Lord of Hell, somethings are just known.

After dressing in something comfortable, she opened the door to the hallway, and found herself facing a large and rather imposing male across the hall.  She guessed this was some kind of guard, meant to keep her from just wandering around in the mansion aimlessly.  “Good morning.” She attempted a smile, but wasn’t sure how convincing it was.  “Umm…I really don’t know where I’m supposed to go or what I’m supposed to do.  Are you supposed to take me somewhere, or is Djall going to show up?”  Her face scrunched up and her shoulders rose as she talked, her voice also a bit strained as she looked down both directions of the hallway before back at the man’s face.

This apparently amused him a bit, as he chuckled before answering.  “Miss Miriana, I can take you to Djall.  No worries.  You don’t have to be so nervous.  He’s let us all know you’re here, and to help you out while you are.  You may be in Hell, ma’am, but you’re in the boss’ house.  It’s a lot different in here than it is outside.”  He gave her a wink and slightly jerked his head in the direction they were going to go.  “Follow me.”

The guard’s manner made Miriana relax and she thanked him, with a far more genuine smile, before falling in line behind him.  They made their way through the beautiful mansion into what almost seemed like an office building from the way that it was decorated.  Her brow creased as she looked at everything.  Was Hell a corporation?  It kind of made sense. What could be worse than spending your life in a cube farm being endlessly tortured by customer service calls?  It was almost enough to make her shudder at just the thought.  Please don’t have him plan on making her work at a phone bank!

When they stopped at the end of the hallway, it wasn’t hard to tell that the office before her would be Djall’s.  The door was a dark and heavy wood, intricately carved with scrolls, fleur de lis, and faces of many kinds along with a handle that was shining brass.  It was stunning to look at and the detailing was exquisite.  It looked like something that would be more at home in a regal castle than in an austere corporate hallway.  Hell was certainly much different than she had expected.

The guard knocked and when Djall’s voice was heard from inside, the guard opened the door and gestured for her to enter.  As Miriana did, she was as awestruck by the interior of his office as she was the door.  It too could have been from some fairytale like castle rather than a corporate office.  Dark, intricately carved woods adorned everything, a spiral staircase in the corner led to a second floor, floor to ceiling bookcases, plush leather furniture set in seating areas, two small meeting tables with four and six chairs respectively, and at one end was Djall’s massive desk with a beautiful leather chair behind it. Behind that were the two story windows, the first floor in clear glass and the second in stained glass with nature scenes.  She almost forgot to walk down to where he was, she got so focused on taking all of the details of his office in.

“I’m going to assume that my office is to your liking?”  Djall asked with an amused smirk on his lips.  “Altaire, please have the kitchen send breakfast, coffee, and tea in now.” He nodded to the guard who returned the nod and left the room.

“I’ve never seen anything like this in real life.  I’m sorry if I’ve been rude.”  Miriana’s cheeks flamed a bright pink as she walked down to where he was still standing behind his desk at the other end of the room.  Her eyes couldn’t quite meet his, she felt embarrassed for being caught gaping at everything.  “Thank you for everything in my room, Djall.  I feel spoiled.  You really didn’t have to give me quite that much.”  The pink darkened and her eyes dropped to the floor, her smile did not falter a bit however.  

“You can continue to look around the room if you like, you’ll be spending quite a bit of time in here with me. That is, if you accept my offer.” Djall’s smirk did not fade either.  His eyes were keenly on her as her expression changed to one of surprise; and was that a touch of fear?  “And, you are welcome for all of your clothing and needs.  If there is anything missing or lacking, you have only but to ask.  It appears you will be here a while and I do want you to be most comfortable. Getting you what you want and need is not an issue.” Once more he was struck by her beauty, the way the morning light came streaming through the windows and made her light brown hair sparkle. Thankfully he did catch himself before he reached out and touched it, his hand lightly fisting at his side.

“Thank you.” She said again, feeling like her cheeks were on fire.  He was studying her, something people rarely did and it made her self conscious.  “What is it that you are offering that would keep me in your office?”  She decided to ask, since he hadn't elaborated and she felt a strong need to change the subject before she said something to embarrass herself.

“I am the Lord of Hell, which is just a fancy way of saying I’m the administrator.  I keep it running efficiently and make sure that we have no issues.  I’ve looked into your life on Earth.  You were very good at managing and assigning manpower.  I could use that skill.”  He gave her a smile, still studying every detail about her.  “Normally, the algorithm that decides where souls go after they die does not fuck up like it did with you.  Souls destined to be here are delivered to a holding area, and there is a meeting once a day where they are divided up amongst my Overlords for their eternal damnation and torture. Following so far?”

Miriana nodded.  “Sounds pretty logical.  So what is it that you would like me to do?” Her head cantered as she listened to him, taking in all the details.

“The Overlords are not always happy with my choices.  They end up having another meeting and discussing who they have been given and what they think should be done with them, then end up trading.  I have a lot on my plate with running an entire realm, and I would like you to become my assistant.  You will help me handle the Overlords and my two Warlords.  Determine their strengths and styles then assign the souls to the Overlords, new demons to the Warlords.  Do you think you can help me with that? Anything you need, anything at all, you can have it.  ” Djall’s brows rose as his head slightly tipped to the side.  He could already see her turning it over in her head.  Good.  Come on little human.

Spending the afterlife doing HR?  This was not exactly what she had anticipated, but there were worse things to do.  She was in Hell after all.  She’d be safe, she’d be in this amazing office, and she could ask Djall for anything she wanted.  There really wasn’t a downside that she was seeing.  “Okay, yes. I think that I can help with that.  I accept your offer.  You have yourself a new assistant.”  She gave him a smile, still a little unsure.  She was, after all, making a deal with the literal Devil.  Miriana didn't add that spending the day where she got to look at the hot Lord of Hell was also a nice bonus to the position.  She didn't want him to rescind the offer, or get angry with her for flirting.

“Splendid!”  Djall grinned as he snapped and a smaller version of his desk appeared perpendicular to his at one end.  A leather chair matching his but smaller was behind it.  A laptop appeared on top, but instead of an apple logo, there was a little demon head.  Miriana had to fight a laugh at the detail.  “There are office supplies in the desk, but if there is anything you need, we have an intranet page for ordering office things.  Also, Amazon delivers, you’ll already be logged into our account.  Feel free to order any hair and makeup things I didn’t think of or that you prefer a different kind.” He inclined his head, smirk firmly in place at her wide eyed look. “I prefer to gift jewelry myself..call it a personal touch.” He winked.

“This is all real, right?  I’m not just in a coma or something?”  Miriana asked, still feeling a bit disoriented by it all. 

Djall walked around the desk, standing before her, and taking her upper arms lightly in his hands before leaning his head down towards hers so he could look directly in her eyes.  “I know this is a lot to take in, but it is real.  You are dead. This is Hell.  And you are now Hell’s HBIC, my darling.  It will take a while to all sink in.  Unfortunately, you’re going to have a crash course in Hell life, because my job never stops.”  He gave her a reassuring smile as he inhaled the slight scent of her perfume that lingered from before she had come to his realm.  He was putting the scent to memory to order more for her, a personal gift.  There was a feeling in him that working with her was going to be a pleasure, and he might just miss her when she was gone. 

Miriana nodded, so far life in Hell didn’t seem too awfully bad, but then again she was the guest of the ruler, so she had a feeling that helped.  Blowing out a breath, “okay, where do we begin?’  She gave him a rather nervous smile and shrugged.  Might as well get started, after all, it wasn’t like she had any other plans.

“That’s my girl.”  He winked at her with a grin, and maybe a little flirtation.  Just a little though.  She was going to have to leave and nothing could happen between them, such a shame really.  He had a feeling that he was going to enjoy having her around, and having someone to keep him company and help with the workload would always be welcome.

[cljordan-imperium]

Uhhhh....guys....I needed to make up names for the Overseers in Hell for Djall, so I was using Google Translate and Latin...and....welll.....HELP!!!

Also, I tried yelling at in German, but we're still on basics so now it's confused and pissed!

@blind-the-winds @saltysupercomputer @dreaminggoblin @pheita @writingmaidenwarrior

[meismyonlyrival]

E thjeshtë, por edhe tekanjoze. Ishte diqka mes engjëll - dhe - djall. Vajzë që të jepte qetësi shpirtërore, pa harruar të të çmendte më parë.

[coffeetothepeople]

Artfight of @/ctsfos ‘s character Djall

[stopka124]

⋖❀⋗ Art fight attack for NotDax 🤍💜

✧ Shiva & Djall | These OCs are NOT mine and I DO NOT take any credit for their designs!!!

✧ My first art fight attack for someone besides my friend (gonna post that one soon too)

✧ Let's just all ignore the leftover pencil marks, that paper sucked and I couldn't erase them any more😪

[hiero-green]

After my last exam today I had some downtime so I drew @bonnefoysdick’s boy Djall!!!

1hr 37 on procreate

first time drawing a horse properly pls bc gentle,

[theimperiumchronicles]

Happy WBW! 💚 In honor of Aro Week: how does your world view anti-amanormative ideas or practices? In other words, how does the world at large view people or ideas that don't prioritize romance or romantic relationships?

Happy WBW, Sweet Tori!! <3 <3

Across all of my WIP's the answer is the same. They are accepted and not judged at all.

There is more than one Aro character in Imperium. Mithos, Deacon, Olly, Thenasus, Raguel, Arioch, and others you will meet later on. While Abriella and Cruz are not Aro, romance for them comes after their bonds of sibling-hood and their friendships. They are fine to be single and do not feel something his missing. Someone coming into their lives must in some way complete it and fit in to the way it exists, if that makes sense.

The Overlords in While You Wait are Aro, but not Ace. When they want sex, they have sex, but see no need for relationships of a romantic kind. You will see that their friendships and sense of brotherhood, however is quiet strong. They also adopt Miriana as a sister and none see her as a romantic conquest. Djall is complicated in that he's never felt the need for a relationship previously until Miriana is dumped into Hell, and even then he resists at first.

In Devil In The Details - Maahes, Tarek, Hel, and a few other mythological deities are Aro. A few are also Ace. They are just accepted. It is not an issue for anyone. No one is judged by whether or not they value romantic relationships.

In Bayou Witches, both of Mel's brothers are Aro. They have never pursued romantic relationships. They do not feel that their lives are lacking without them or desire them. Her best friend, Alexander is as well, also being Ace. All three are completely accepted and no one makes any judgment, comments, or looks at them different. - These same characters are in Behind These Masks as well. There are additional Aro characters in some of her bodyguards there. Their jobs are their passion and while they do crave sex from time to time, they do not want romance or relationships. Some of them will even say that Mel and the women in her family are the only ones they want around because they're the only ones that don't flirt.

Spencer in Bending the Law is Aro-Ace. Everyone adores him. He's on the spectrum and they just accept him for him.

These are the ones that are canon Aro, Ace, or Aro-Ace. There are others I suspect that are, but haven't said anything specifically yet to me. I do not make assumptions for my characters. However, in any world of mine, there are romantic characters and relationships as well as those who are not. This is why you will never have just a romantic couple in one of my stories. I believe there are many kinds of relationships to be explored, and I enjoy them all, romantic and otherwise.

Thank you for this ask, sweetheart! <3 <3

[sins-of-the-sea]

2/2

The sea is still storming. But not for the reasons of the one called by his thralls 'The Master'.

Diablo. Diable. Djall. Deabrua. д'ябал. Djævel. Vrag. Şeytan. 魔鬼. Սատանա. إبليس . ዲያብሎስ. Ekwensu. At one… Kataw. Davy Jones, even. There are so many names designated to him, only due to the ignorance of humanity. There was never a name. There was never an identity. Not one that humans can understand. Not one they can grasp.

"Yet, there you swim with those strings so tangled. You resemble an amateur puppeteer staging a fucked up Punch and Judy show for your own viewing pleasure. You know it's almost as if you don't want to find your other eye because you're afraid of what you might see if you look at yourself clearly for the first time since you've lost it."

That thing couldn't be anymore wrong. But that last sentence did force something within the Master that he thought he didn't before... or couldn't. Wouldn't? Shouldn't? Of course he wants his Eye.

He.

She.

They.

It?

What is the Eye? What are eyes?

Why do you want your Eye back? Can't you just... grow a new one?

Perhaps cut off a piece and regenerate a new Eye.

No. Yes?

Why do that?

Why not?

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Whose Eye is that?

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Is it yours?

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Is it his?

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Is it hers?

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What is an Eye?̵ I̵s̷ ̸i̷t̵ ̵f̸o̸o̴d̶?̵

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G̶͈͙͋͒̕ụ̵̡̠̃̚s̸͚͚̟̾̋̿ṱ̶̩̠̽o̷̡̠͠ ̶͈̽̇̽k̶͕͙̐̀ó̷̭͌ǹ̴̻̮ͅg̴̡̧̗̒̿̉ ̵̺̀ī̷̫̂͝b̸̰̞́̔̋ȧ̶͔l̷̦̟̽̄i̸̳̫͚̊͝ḳ̵̤̔̇̚͜ ̵͙̘̬͑á̷͕̞̃ñ̶̲̓̈́g̸͓̞͒͑͌ ̷̤̫̦̀͝m̴͕͔̐̚͝a̴̗̖̾͠t̶̖̓̓̚a̴̗̅̏͊ ̷̪͎̩̉̚ḱ̷̯̰o̸͔͔͠.̶̨͉͔͋̓̎

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Ň̵̢̘͔̗̝̗̳̣̰̮̰̜̪̬̝͍̻̈̌̂̋̊̓̀͊̒̾͒͗͘͘͝ò̶͓͇̳̟͈̠̱͚̦̜̺̜̮̣̃͑͊͗́̈́͘ͅn̷̝͒̀̄̅̊̍̈́̈́͛̿̇̑͋͂̉͊̔ ̷̧̬̣͖̗̺̠̘̯̯̝̰͓̦͔̒̒͊̚͜͠͝ş̵̥͓̓̈́̆̓́́̋̈́͛̇̚ư̸̡͕̺̯̹̿̇̍̈́̈́͌͑̓͛̆͂̄͑̕͘͝m̴̢̧̢̢̧̛̼͈̹̬̗͕̤̑̌̄̍̌̒̐̀͜ ̵̧͉̝̇̽̾͐̑͝ͅc̶̛͉͇̮̻͑̎̾̌́̀ọ̶̧̘̟͔͍̙̰͇͖͈̠̭͙̇̈́̆̆̊̏̒͑́͐͂̋̈́̇̇m̷͓̬̻̥̺̺̼̱̊p̵͉̝̫̳̫̻͚̬̗͛̈́͝l̴̤̈̿̾͆͑̊̔͋̂̏͛̍͆̚̕͘͝ẽ̴̗̗̏̀̀͆̐̈́͋̒̈̊t̶͇̞͖̹̝̜̩͎̣̻̝͗̏̀̔̈́͌͜͝u̸͓̟̱͓͇̐̾̑̓͑͗̏͋̎̏̚͠ş̵̛̛̛̱̙͕̗͖̥͕̲̫̤̰̯̣̥̿̊̈̓ ̸̧̛̩̹̹̭̣̝̻͖͈̦̲̝̆̈͑̔̍̔̈́̑͝͝ͅş̴͓̲̣̭̻̙͉̠̮͚̭̭͌̿̀̈̀́͝i̸̢̢̛͕̫̥̮̟̭̙̼̯͎͆͊̔͐̃̉̋̊̑͋͐͑͐̈͝ñ̸̥̱͓̯̙͌̀̌͑̆̈͝e̴̡̛̜̭̹̦̫͎͓̟̹̟̠̣͍͕̯̽̒͐̈͌̉̀̏̎͒̄̓͗̾̕͜͝ ̶̢̛̬̹͕̤͈̲̬̪̹̺̹̩̠͈͇͛̌̍́̒͐̂̂͌̏́̚̚ͅǫ̸̤̝̫̗̲̻̜̜̟̦̠̳̹̹̓̄̈̈́̾̚ç̸̥̭̟̩̥̩̮͇̼̈́̏̽̏͜͝͠u̷̧̱͖̩̦͔̖̰̤͈̲̙͓̖͉͐͗̒ĺ̴̳͇͉̘͌ǫ̸̛̹̣̀́̂͛̾̚͝ ̵̧̧͇̺̺͇̙͍̻͔̲͕̺̤̰̋̆́͂̈́͆̊͒̋̉̈́̉̈́̕ͅm̷̛̗̟̗̗͖̥̤͍̂̓̔̔̀̂̅̎̓̋̍ḛ̸̡̈́̔̎̋̏͘ơ̵̢̪̖͍͎̹̬͎̮͇̹̼̺̳̊̄͛͛́̓̅̈́͒̈̿͝!̸̧̛̺̫̥̦̞̘̙̯̱̫̩̃͒͗̇

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म̶̨̛͚͈̰̭̯̭̮̓͆̅̋͆͊̈́̋̉̆̅̋̕̚͜͜ै̷̢͎̜̩̭͙̘̮̂̽̓̃̓͂̍͊̐ं̵̧̡̣̦̮̠̱̹͕̫͙͐͗̈͜͜ ̶̡̨̠̗̙̜̗̭̦̯̉̀̌͂̽̿̅̌͜अ̶̨̛̩̩̥͈̩̘̹̰̊̓̓͋̌̌̒̀̎̔́̋̾̑̈͠प̵̨̡̢̖̖̘̙͙̞͓̜̲̱̱͉̘͖̿̉́͂̂͗͗͗̃͘͠͠न̴̹̇̆̎̈́͐̄́̚͝ी̸̰͙̪̜̼̠͓̟͖̦͍̆̓͆͒̀̆̾́̅̒́̈́͜͝͝ͅ ̸̛͙̯͈̝͐̓̔̔̈́̏́͊͑̉̍͂̈̆̍̕आ̴̳͑͋̈́̊̓̌̀͗̋̅͠͝ँ̶͎̟̫͚̼̮̭̜̥̞͉̙͎̜̓͒̎̐͆͌̀̀̾́̕͜͝͝ख̸̘̅͐̅̍̋͊̓̍ ̷̡̧̫̹̗̰͙̲̬̰̻͖̹̝͕̄̓̇̽̍̉͛̿̕͠क̵̧̧͎̺̟̪̹̰̞͎͈̫̦̖̹̮͉̉̒̌̆͐े̸̺̹̩̭̞̅̉̉̿̈́̿̊̄̈́̚̕̚ ̸̦̙̖͇͖̮̮͕̺̮̈́͑͊̃̆͑̀̊͛̂̈́̚͝ब̸̛̝̲̬̠̯̹̻͉̄͂̈́̈́̽͒̓̔͠ͅि̷̧͍͓͚͖̫͖̻͓̹̘͈̜̞̈́̃͗̉̓̇́̈́̆͛͛͛̅ͅन̶̖̙͇͓̘͖̲̤͔̲̿̍͗̍̑͒͋̍͐̆̕͝͠ͅा̴̛̜̲͎͍̠̞͈͉̥̌̈́͒̉̔͛̃̉͊͝ ̷̡̨̦̼̲̜̭̖̯̙̮̂̓͠ŗ̷̻͎͍̩͝à̷̱̹͋̀̏̆̉͋̔͗͆͘h̷͍͔̯̠̖̲̑̎̀̾̒̌̓͠ą̵̫̣͇̪͙͎̳̩̏̀̃̀̇̒͑̓̇̊̌̓ ̷̧̰̯̗̬̬͉̳̳̣͎̺̹̭̖͗̂̔̉̑͛̕ͅअ̵̡̬̘̻̯̬̦̖̲͉̹̗̜̾̄̈́͛͝ͅध̵͎̱͈̪̺̱̯̘́̾̈́͛̃̏͂͌͝͝͝͝ͅू̵̡͖̬̥̝̩̩̾́̀̀͆̀͌̓͂͗̌͠र̸̡̧̧̱̠̗̹̘̥̼͙́ा̸̢̫̞͙͉̥̍͛͜ ̷̧̡̗̺͔̬̗̥͙͉̣͖͇̘̇̀̓̽͊̈́̚͜ह̶̰̹̯̭͔̉̽͆́̃̾̊̏͌͘͝ू̷̢̱̖͕͇̟̭̘̙̙͚̮͋͌̃̍̌̇̂͋́͠ँ̸̥̲͍̯̘̜̊̾ͅ!̶̡̢̨̬͔̬̯͚͒͂̄ ̸̩̪̯̬̃̉̈͑̂͆̿̌̓͆̆̀̐͌̚̚Я̵̝̬͖̤͓̯̻̦̮͛̐͋̂̈́͆̌͐͌̏͆͌̕͝͠ ̵̛̙̩͚̭͖̇̃̋͌͗̌̏̚н̴̢͇̤͎̓͝е̶̥̪̪̙͇̜̞̟͕̦̠̏͐̆ ̵̨̢̯͉̺̠̬̰̪̠̮̮̝̞͓̮͐́̀͋п̶̛̛̗̭̫̱̞̦̻̮̳̩͙̊̃͗͗̅̐̈̌̃͝о̴̨̠̘̹̳̮͈͚͙͚̆̋̂̎̈́̈́̈̚͘л̸͎̼̫͖̼̭̥͙͇̰̥̙̞̱̎̽̓̃̒͂͂̈̒̌̒о̵̛͕̦͇̭͖̱̄͛̔̅̽̀̇͋̽͠н̴̧̡̛̪̬͓͔͔͙̦͚͚͔̈́̈́̃̅̓͐̑̒̄̀̊ͅ ̶̛̱͔͚͓̜̻̱̺͉̏̆̈́́̇̾̐̊̾̈́̀͘б̴̨̙͈͉́̇̇͛͛́̈́̚е̶̨̰̟̘̦̦͔̟̻̩̘̲̦̳̣͇̓̑̎͆̃͊̌̕з̶̛͉̲̜͑̀̔͒̈́͌̀̉͐̆͊͋͘̚͝ ̸̨̛͚̲̏͗̾̇̔̏̂͆̈́̔̇̇̅̋̕͝с̸̢̮̪̔в̷̟̺̞̣͉̗̤̋͐̏͋̾̚о̴͎͎͖̗͌̓́̅̐͝е̷̢̹̳̹̦̻͙̲̫̞͚̼͖̰͔̩̏͗̓̆̄͐̀̇̊̈͂̕͝г̵̡̛͓͔̹̠͎̪͌͑̄͆͒̐̈́̈́͝͝͝о̸͖̀̿͐̂́̆̓̍ ̶̨̩͈̪̯̞̤̖̝̞̟̾͜ͅה̸̧͇̥̭͖͕̦͕̖͚̖̻͉̖͔̊͗̓ע̷̧̡͈͕͇͙͕̫̪̅̀͒י̸͉̀͑̽͗͒̎̋͊͌̊́̑͝ן̷͔͚͎̞̺̮̰͈̭̞̦̠̖͚̳̫͠ ̴̡̢͇̬̱̺͎̗̠̥͛͜ ̵̨͖̬̞͈̜̃̂̿̏͘͜ͅг̷̗̜̦̍̏̊л̵̧̢̢̛͓̜͙̼̇̆͒͐̈́̀̓̈̈́̄̇̿͜͝а̷̧̯̱̜̗̩̞͍͚̝̣̐͆͌̔͒̽̐̾̓͆͋̕̕͝з̷̣̻̃̋̀͌͊̇́̚͝͠а̶̢̛̪̞̼͇̟̙͉!̷̢͉͖̠̦͚̤̫̪̖̻̰̈́̊̓̄̀̓̎̾̒̂̈́̕ͅ ̶̱͍̹͇͓̗̻̬̐͂̍̉͋̇͗א̴̛̟̜̦̘͈͖͎͔̜̣̊̿͛̉͛̊̌̿̅̒̎̋͘͝͝͠נ̴̛̙̜̟̤̥̪̏̈̋̂̐́͗̓̚͜ͅי̶̡̡̪͓̳̦͖̼̖͉̓̍̍̈́̀̓̽̆̈́͜͠͠͠͝͠ ̷̭̝̗̥̽̾͌̊͋͌̈́͌͛̃͘ל̶̛̤̫̤͉̑̽̃́̎̈́̇̊͘א̸̛̛̯̺͍̬̫̟̘̼̋͛̉͝ ̴̨̹̝̯̤͇͓̥͐̅͜ש̵͙̥̫͙̈́̋̅̉̓̊̈́͂́̿̅͘͠ל̷̙̳̳̘̠͍̫͍͉̻͎͍̘̫̌́̂̍̔̃̍̊̉̀ͅם̸̤͆̓̓̎͋͌̅̀͆̀̊̒͐͠ ̵͍̂͒̃̀́̆̀̓̀̽ב̷̢̢̣̘͍̘͇͓͓̈͌̓̓͑̇̐̔̈́͆̄͗̈́̚̕ל̷̢̥̖̼̠̯̏̆̾̆̅̀͛̕͠י̷̦͖̫͙̹͂̐͑̌͗͛͐̆̃̓̾̈́̾̒̕ ̴̡̗̥̭̯͎̫̞̺͉̤̻̟̿̊̄͜͜ה̵̧̧̝͓̜͕͍̘̠͙̲̖̙̝̎̿̒̀͐͠͠ͅע̸̧̲͍̻̲̪̗̃̄̄̈́̎̿̒̿̒̕̚י̵͕̟̱͖̠̺̒̐͌ן̴͓͙̲̠̯͕͈̱̬̍͐̌̈́͆́͌͐̒̉̑̈́̿͋͘͝ ̶̧̰͙̯̬̗̤̝̙͕͓̗̞̳͌̂̓̂͐͌̂́͑̅͜ ̵̘̜̬̖̫̳̙͙̫̪̹̘̺͍̩̋̊̎͛͗̓́̚̕͠͠г̶̝͕̒̊̔̍̅̽͌́͝л̸̻̩̝̬̙͑̾͒̃̐а̶̠̗͙̏̈̇̃̈́̐͘͠͝з̴̢̨̮͕̞̞̳͕͉̻̝̜͓̮͖͐̂̂̉̋̒̄͋͊̊̐͆̇̒͘͘͜а̸̧̰̞́̋̂̽͆̐͛̿̈ש̸̨͉̰͓̳̗̜̬͇̜̠̳̬̓̈́̓͂̎̄̀ל̸̳̗̞̳͆̓̏͑͆י̶̨̧̘̼̰̱̗̏̊̑!̷͙̩͆̂̏͒͊͐̐͋̏̽͂͒͆͠ ̸̧̢̮̰̯͕̳̲̳͎͇̞̥̩͇̻̓͗̉͂̅̐̓̊͑̂͗͗͌̓͠͝Ṫ̸̨͙̺̟͔͙͕̻̪͎̫̟̫̗͉̐̆̋̑̈̇́̽̕͠͝͝͠ͅͅs̷̡̡̼̝̮̥̝͔̯͎̬͈̜͇̩͚͊̐̓́̌̏̏̐͒̇̀̽̔̎̋̚͝y̷̻̱̦̬̰͇͖̪̻͈͓͍̘̆̂̈́͘͝͝ ̴̨̥͗̾̋͌̑̒̄̄̋͘͠͝͠ͅf̸́́̆͗̑̀͆̅̂͂͋̅̽͆́͂͠ͅë̵̡̪̠̙̝̞͇̹̳̲͕̭̖͇̱͍̬́͐n̷̨͚̼̳͖̠̥̎̍̄̓ͅo̵̲̻͓̊̈́̽͛̚ ̶̛̫͇͈̤̝̥̩̪̀̇̀̅͊̑͂̌̓̿̂͐̓̃ă̴̖̫̥̥̯͇̾͋̎͑͘ḩ̶̧̨͔̙̜̙̭̼͉͍̪͕̥̭̓ͅo̸̜͈̪̬̱̻̲̺̹̥͆̍̄̇̈̾̏̃͗ ̴̢̞͗́͊́̓͛͝͝ब̴͓̯̮̗͚͉͋́̍͜͜ि̴̪͕̙͇͈͙̤̖̼̪̬͈̪̺͙̉͋̑̌́̊͒͗̿̕̕न̶̡̡̳̫͎̠̖̣̱͉͓̫̦͑̏ͅा̸̜̤̮̱̩̗͕̯̯̘̝̣̝̩͆̀̑͛͌ ̵̨̢̛̦̹̳̞̰̲̙̫͓͚̭̞͕͑̋͗́͆̍̌͊̋t̷̩̝͍͎̮̭̥̲̦̤̐͠ş̶̙͈̤̟̹̳͈̱̳̦͍̱̋̓͒̈́̃͆̒́̔͌̂̾̽̋̍̕ͅy̸̮̝̘̞̥͍̱̮͇͇̼̜̫͙̻͊̆͛͗͜ͅ ̸̡̧̤̝̅͂̓̀̋̄̎̍̒͌̈́̓́̍̈͗͂m̵̬͙̝̝̬̩̞̠̬̒̇͐̀̆͠ͅį̷̰̠̋͌͛͠s̴̨̧̭͇̰̟͓̳̥̹̘̰̩̻̍̆͠ͅͅy̸̩̽̀̀͆͛̿͌̑̎̃́̇̕̚ ̸̡̳̤̝͉̫̙̙͇͇͖̙̓̌̊́̌̈́̈̈́̈́͐̇̅̋̐͛͘͜n̶̨͂͋́͂̂͑͌̿̈́͊̀̌̿͊̕͝ý̵̨͖̞̞̲̞̺̞̒̐͗͑̈́̀̑̕ ̸̢̡̨̱̤͎̲͉͈̟̼̫̆̿̍̀́͒͜͜͝m̵̡̝͖͉͚͇̖̥̝̮̙͒̎͊͛̔̅̈̂̅͜͝ắ̴̧̤̖̹̺̼̻̯̘̞͌̅̓͗̐̀͂̇͊͒̕͝͝ͅs̴̡̪̹̉̂̋̿̃̈́́̎͌̈̕ọ̵̧̡̧̮̺̜̠͍͕̘͔̀̒ͅͅḵ̷̛̖͎̱͇̯̻̞͇͖͙̘̟́́͂̓̓̋̾̓̄͋̌͒͜ͅͅͅǫ̷͙̬̥̀̑̏͆̈́́̓̊͌̑̍̑̑̚͝ͅ!̶̢̨̙̥͍͍̘̣̬̣̪̮̲͔͍̓̏́̉̕͘ͅ

M̵̨̨̨̨̛̞̲̱̰̖̝̝̰͍̰̜̩͙̘͓͔̱̱͕̩̠͓̩͇͗͛̀̏̏͆̎͌͂̈́̎̽́̓̀̆͒͘̕͜͝͝ͅͅY̶̡̺̤̥̩̘̬̬͔̮̬̟̮̬̣͇̼͈̬͍̺͕̗̞̳̬̪̦̤̝̘̣̺̘͚̝̻̌͒͂̀̉̈̒̿̈̾̀͑͛̃̿̀̀̌̐̈̈́̉̅̂̄͑̉͘͜͝͠ ̸̧̨̛̞̺͖͙̭͇͈̙̥̠̱̼̣̙͖̩̹̰̗̝̗̰̖͍̪̣̗͓̝̞͉̟̙̿̅͛̄́̾̄͂̍͌̈͘͘͜Ḙ̶̢̨̱̗̲̠͓͙̘̬͖̯͚͎̠͙͈̦̜͙͓͌̅̾͑̋̈́̔̽̇̐͒͋̎̓͋͑͗̍̆̉̒͆̈͑̀̈́̐̓́͘͘͜͝͝͝Y̶̨̛̮͚̤͇̦͈̘̣̭̝͍̼̞͔̭̤͕͈͗́̎͆̓̀͗͂̀̑̏̏͘͝͠͝Ę̶̨̨̧̛̛͍̝͍͈̟̜̻͍̱̦͕̫̣͙̞͓͖̪̲͚̳͚͙̣̈́̾̽̊̌͛́̃͑̆̇̅̏̌͛̒͗̉͊̒̅́̄̿̔͛̍͂͗̈́́̉̿̕̕͘͝͝͝ͅ ̷̡̡̡̡͙̗̦̟͓̩̪̼͈̫̤̳͇̟̜̩̗̜͍̲̻̠̫͔͉̳̦̺̙̺̩͐͛̀̐̍̿̇̊̽͐͒͒̾͛̈́͂̂̎̂̅̈́̀͆̎̽͌̌͒́̓̈́͗̾̕͘͘̚̕̕͜͜͜͜͝͝ ̶̨̢̢̧̤̖̗̺̝̯͇̝̰̰̘̹͍̞͖͍̣̦̗̮̟̞͂̈̃͑̏͊̓̐̈̏̇̏͋͌͋̀̓͋͂̏́̋̓̀̕͝ͅĘ̸̢͎̬̪̗̥̝̗͓̯̝͍̪̝͍̟̖̗̥̞͍̙̰̘͂͛͐͆͜͜M̷̛̰̣̝͖̤͔̟̜͓̱̭̲͇̥͔̖̲̃͊̂̾̏͑̓̐̋̌̎͌̈́̾̃̄̋͋̂̐͊̌̂̂̔̄̒̑͆́̿̈̃̏̽̕͘͝͝Ȩ̵̨̢̢̨̛̛͎̹̘̞̜͕̫͙͉̯͚̝̠̘̳͎̲̥̼̖͎̭̻̤̤͖͓̥̼̏͛̓̔͆̎͑̀̏͛̓̓̓́̕͜͝ ̶̧̬̹̰͈̲̣͇̠̮̱̠͕̼͘Y̴̢̨̠̩͉͕̹̘̙͎͕͉͚͎͓̽̔̑͐͐̿̈̊̏̒̑̉̽̀͐̇̀͐̆̇́͂̐̄̾͛͐̓̓̀͘͘͠͠͠͝͝͠͝Ë̶̢̡̨͍͓̱̙͍̲̮͙̦͖̭̩̱̘̥̠͖̱̱͍̫͓̫̞̮̰̳͉̠̥̦̰̰̭́͑̅̾̎̓̈́͑̌̐͌̆̿͂̐͒̆̾̇̏̓̀͗̓̀̚͜͝͠͠͝ͅͅ ̴̢̛͍̱̹̩̪̯̥̙̙̙͎͙̘̥͕͖̭̳̪̹͖̜̤̈̿̈́͋͒̽̐͑͒̊̇̾̏͆̄̒̒͒̈́̚͝͠ ̸̡̡̛͓̙͉̥͓͍͍̱̺͕̙̼̪̠͚̥̗̹̞͈͓͇̫͍͔͍̭̮̬͈̐̒͋̅̃̒̀͛̂̾̄͌̀̊̒̈́͛̏͛͌̍̃̌͊̾̽͑̍̂̅̿̍̿͒́̂̕̚͠͝͠͝ͅͅM̶̹͓͋̀̉̾͒̎̊̐̓̐̀̿̿̅̿̌̍̌̓́̒̋̀͆͛̓̑͋͌͊̾̃̕̚̕͜͠Ȩ̸͕̞̙̣̙̘͕̖̜̮̲̱̗͉̜͍̰͖̖̘̪̜̙͚̖̣̯̘̀̂́̃͌͋̅̈́̐̎͌͒̽̄̚̚͜͝͠͝͝ ̸̧̨̨̢̨̨̨̨̫͉͈̮͈͕̝͎̣̳̩͔̖̺͇̞̩̹̭̹̱̠̻̠͔̼̙̲͖̯̳̥̝̖̀̍́̏̄̎̈́̍́͋̉̈́̆̆̿̒̕̚͝ͅỴ̷̟̥̗̙̝͎̗̥͓͓̘̪̜̼̬͔̪͚̣͚͇̮̃̿̊͐̀͊͂͜͝M̸̡̡̢̧̡̟͇͕̼̙̪̫̝̜͙̺̝̙̯̪̲̹͓̼̣̩̣̗͇̳̙̳͉͓̍̋́̓̇̍͘͜͜M̵̢̢̟͓̥̼̺̲̭̦̜̖͕̙͚̜͔̗̭͚̲͔̭̦͕̖̖̥̀͐̂ ̸̢̗̮̬̟̰̺̮̲͍͚͉́̈̀̊̍̔͗́͊̆̓̆̑̋͆͌̈́̐̎͂̔̆́́̆́́͐͝M̷̨̡̝̦͕̼͈̤̳͙̬͈͉̮̯̱̲͙̬̮̲̗̤̲̭̣̄̎̐͑͋̓̽͒͋́̂̆̇̀̈́̐̍̆͑͒͑̾̒͆̉͊̀̑̚̕͘͜͝͠͝͠ͅͅE̸̢̝͕̰͉̣͓͇̩͔̟̯̥̥̗̘̭̰̩̳͌̔̑̓Ỵ̵̨̢̧̛͚̺̞̫̱͓̟̬͈̘̲̺̩͓̰͖̪͎̳͙̤̘͇̟͍̲̘̘̙̗͉̯̬̯͈̬̙̤̿̿̎̅̉̍̎̈́͂̾̉̊̄̑̅̔̇̉̈́̃̎̅̕͝͝ͅ ̸̧̛̛̣̟̫͕̻̤̞͕̣̱̫̹̟̰̜͖̜͚̺̰͚̗̙̪͓͔͎̙̖͊͐̏̒̈̒̈́͋͌̎̈́̀͋́̎͗̇̀̍̈͑̍̄̑̚͘̚͝͠

[koshka-sova]

nymph being a djall which is supposedly based on the islamic antichrist is doing smth to me. we've never had anyone headcanon any sarkaz as muslim. ik the muslim adjacent faction is the sargonians but hg has fumbled that region for so long. besides if kazdel is supposed to be the fertile crescent and esp the epicentre of abrahamic religious sites its not so farfetched to think of a muslim sarkaz. what if

[aphungay]

damn :(

og under the cut by Haus of Decline

[hnk-art]

Djall and Shiva are NotDax’s character.

Please check her furaffinity // twitter // insta

Drawn for Artfight 2024.

——-

Find me here. Join the fight ♡

[whileyouwait-dm]

1

So it begins...

Everything happened in the blink of an eye.  Miriana had been crossing the street with a group of people one minute and the next she was in a strange dark forest.  Obviously she was at least unconscious and this was some kind of dream; at least that was what she was hoping.  The alternative was that she was dead.  Were that the case, then where exactly she was confounded her.  This certainly did not resemble any description of Heaven that she had read of, but it didn’t exactly resemble Hell either.  She hadn’t read up on all mythologies though, but she doubted Hell as supposed to look like a dense forest with lush vegetation.  So, exactly what happened and where was she?  Two questions that she hoped would be answered by someone in at least some kind of decent timeframe.

Miriana turned in a circle, but saw no path or anything that gave a clear direction out of the clearing that she was in.  There was just this jagged oval of a clearing where the underbrush was lower, then it grew higher again and the trees were closer together.  The canopy was still lush and green, keeping everything below in shade and relative darkness.  There were no sounds of birds or active wildlife that she could ascertain, which seemed odd for the middle of the day, but she wasn’t any kind of wildlife or forest expert.  Trying to decide which way to go was not easy, since she had no idea where she was and there were no ambient noises to guide her.

Finally, she just picked a direction and headed into the thicker underbrush and darker canopy cover.  There was no better or worse option, none of them seemed any different than the other at this point since there were no indicators of where she would find someone else.  Hopefully when she did find someone else, they’d be able to tell her where she was and how she got them from the middle of a busy intersection with no memory of it.  She’d never been camping or hiking, so this definitely wasn’t one of her friends playing some messed up kind of a prank, they’d know better than to drop her city girl ass out in the middle of the wilderness. Fending for herself meant using the microwave to heat up leftovers, not making her way through the wilderness.

****

“SIRE!”  A messenger came running into Djall’s  office.  He was out of breath and flushed, looking almost on the verge of panic.  This could mean nothing good for the ruler of the underworld, so there went his afternoon. “Yes?  What is it?”  He asked, leaning back in his chair.  Hopefully it wasn’t something too bad and he could get back to organizing the newest batch of arrivals according to what demon would be overseeing them.

“There was a problem with the afterlife routing algorithm and we’ve received…………a mistake.”  The color seemed to drain from the demon’s face.

“A mistake?” Djall’s dark eyes narrowed at the demon, who was nodding and simultaneously looking like he wanted to become one with the wall behind him.  “What kind of mistake?”  His head cantered to one side as he tried to figure out how they could receive any kind of mistake.  This was Hell.  Mistakes didn’t happen in Hell and you didn’t end up in Hell by mistake.  You earned your way here.

“Sir, the algorithm sent a murderer to Paradise, and an innocent human girl here.  She just landed in the forest of beasts.  She was supposed to go the other way.  There are a few beings arguing over whose fault it is, but we need to find her before the beasts do.  She’s done nothing wrong to be here, Sire.”  The demon’s back was pressed against the wall and he was truly terrified that his liege was going to cause him great pain from the look of displeasure currently upon his face.

“I have a completely innocent female IN THE FOREST OF BEASTS?!” Djall almost roared at the information.  Of all of the places for her to land, the one that was the most violent and vicious.  Of course, because having her land someplace “safe” in Hell would be to easy when the pompous pricks upstairs fucked up.  Instead he was going to have to go find her before she was hurt and he had to put a bunch of pieces back together.  Had he fucked over some deity that he’d forgotten about?  He didn’t think so, but the day was sure shaping up that way.

Pushing on the armrests of his chair, Djall came to standing.  “I will be off finding this female.  Can you please find out who I’m supposed to call once I have her back here to the manor?  Getting her out of Hell promptly is, I'm sure, on the top of everyone’s agenda.  And, also, find out how the fuck this happened!”  He gave the demon a tight smile and teleported to the forest.  This was not going to be fun, and someone would definitely pay for the inconvenience later.

[cljordan-imperium]

LAST LINE TAG

I was tagged by the awesome @autumnalwalker who shared some of his Eldrich horror goodness HERE

I'm going to give you more than a line...a little sneak peak at @whileyouwait-dm

“I have a completely innocent female IN THE FOREST OF BEASTS?!” Djall almost roared at the information.  Of all of the places for her to land, the one that was the most violent and vicious.  Of course, because having her land someplace “safe” in Hell would be to easy when the pompous pricks upstairs fucked up.  Instead he was going to have to go find her before she was hurt and he had to put a bunch of pieces back together.  Had he fucked over some deity that he’d forgotten about?  He didn’t think so, but the day was sure shaping up that way.

Pushing on the armrests of his chair, Djall came to standing.  “I will be off finding this female.  Can you please find out who I’m supposed to call once I have her back here to the manor?  Getting her out of Hell promptly is, I'm sure, on the top of everyone’s agenda.  And, also, find out how the fuck this happened!”  He gave the demon a tight smile and teleported to the forest.  This was not going to be fun, and someone would definitely pay for the inconvenience later.

Softly tagging - @sam-glade @mjjune @cillmequick @talesofsorrowandofruin

@saltysupercomputer @blind-the-winds @aziz-reads @dreaminggoblin @pheita @writingmaidenwarrior @korblez @spookyceph @thebejeweledwatercat @toribookworm22