Words of the Constant
Empty.
So, even the merms have their limits.
The merms are in an endless cycle of feeding. Give them more.
I used to take joy in instruments such as these.
I never cry.
It will never make anyone cry again.
You won't draw any tears from me.
The life they contain is a mystery.
I see a million sad eyes reflecting back at me...
As cold and lifeless as... well...
Temporary release from drudgery.
Such things used to bring me happiness.
It sees all, and yet nothing.
With each use the wielder dies and is again reborn.
Is it true they hold paws while sleeping at sea to not get separated?
It has nothing.
If I take what's there, the creature may starve.
I had a feeling it would end at sea.
Your hardened exterior won't protect you from the world.
It may yet have the chance to grow up.
I warned you that your armor wouldn't protect you.
A tree that has barely begun to live.
Life is a gamble.
It's... delicious.
Music is the window to my empty soul.
For documenting my pain.
It's brittle and delicate, like life itself.
Abigail will defend me.
All dressed up, but where to go?
Now it is truly free. Well, as free as a flightless bird.
Poor bird.
There can be a fate worse than death.
It looks so tiny and insignificant.
They're so good I almost forgot my crushing grief.
What can this tiny plant possibly do to fill my empty life?
That is a very significant amount of pepper.
Will I live to see this grow?
Dumb bird! Stay away from the berries!
It's... surprisingly soft.
Black like my heart.
It's empty...
It hungers for a sacrifice.
A lovely little pouch of nutrients.
Its joy was so disparaging...
I like how they smell.
They are painted with the colors of my soul.
I like how they smell.
Now it will never die...
The wretched beast must have been sick.
Shall we have a danse macabre?