#mania father goes off to say 'you might be my child if ur power is born from crystal or mania weapon'

[zorkaya-moved]

' shall I presume the origin of your power has come from a Mania weapon or a crystal? thus, the origin of your power comes from me, does it not? it fascinates me, the manner in which you have evolved. a whisperer of the dead, an undertaker of sorts, a keeper of dark secrets. I will permit myself the indulgence of taking pride in your final manner of existence. ' ( you said Mania Father and he instantly took over my brain )

@sortilegii

The Abyss whispers into her ears, speaking of the horror this existence before her brings. A creature of the night, of the shadows, of selfishness and greed. The dual-colored gaze remains unbothered and calm as she gazes upon the man in front of her. He, too, is just another visitor to the Romanesque Hall and he, too, is nothing different compared to others in the eyes of the Death's Emissary. The embodiment of apathy continues to bask in her languor, chaos only pushed forward within Syndicate for her own interest. She uses those dark secrets to bring chaos, to bring Hell, to bring demons out of humans to witness them cleanse themselves in flames and blood. They'll bask in their screams and they'll be delivered to her after they let out their last breathe.

And yet, she does not see him as her creator nor does she see him as someone who has granted her that ability. She was awakened as a Sinner within the Mass Grace, no weapons and no crystals around. A sharp inhale that brought life back into her lungs, Death dragged her back to Life, giving her a mission only she can do. The Maniacs will scream and the Corruptors, too, will be delivered to her. This man will also be delivered to her when Death wishes for him to finally join the ghosts and the abyssal whispers.

The Listener does not shed her soft and cold smile, distant from everything. There is no fear before the 'God' who sees himself above all and everything. It does not matter, nothing in this living world matters until Death is invited to join this tea party. Even now, Oak Casket drinks her tea while listening to the man of Mania. Will he wish to kill her? So be it. Will he wish to use her? There is always an opportunity to gain from this. Syndicate must be burned to ashes before it will be reborn akin to a Phoenix. This presence is one of those who keeps the Mania dance in the air.

"You may presume as you wish," she begins, settling her tea cup down. Her hand rest on her lap, unbothered by the presence before her. The Undertaker has seen too much death to be concerned or worried about who sits in front of her. There is danger in each and every corner of Syndicate, DisCity will drown in Abyss before it will be saved by the graceful touch of Death. Where there is an ending, there is a new beginning as well. However, she only sees Death as her bringer, as her creator, as her core reason to be here. The man in front of her is a selfishly proclaimed God who has no place in this place of faux worship. She is a worshipper and personification of Death, her eyes only light up at the sight and touch of true Death. And this man? He is just another part of the world of the living, uninteresting to her in the long run. Only the whispers past his demise are intriguing to her. "But no matter who you are, you must pay a price to receive what you wish. You may pride yourself in everything your living existence wishes. Such is the privilege of the living and the greedy."