Words of the Constant
I won't find what I'm looking for, no matter how far I can see.
Abigail... You be Death, I'll be the Sculptor...
...I can't be disappointed... If I expect nothing...
That looks... f-fun...
Cleft from the stone.
A beautiful corruption gnaws at its base...
Not everyone can be put back together after falling apart.
It wants out...
The more the marble wastes, the more the statue grows.
How did this get here?
There's a sickly beauty to it...
If only the rest of us could be whole again.
It wants out...
We all have monsters within, I suppose.
Off with his head! Heehee.
I feel... queasy...
It's been made whole again. Lucky.
It wants out...
Perhaps it wanted to hide the shame of its monstrous form?
Strange marble debris...
Another entry in a long line of unfortunate occurrences.
Thinking on the waves makes me nauseous.
A sea once teeming with life. No more.
I could steer toward it and resign myself to a watery fate.
I feel the same way.
It must be nice.
Another burden for me to shoulder.
Life, or at least the promise of it.
The fire has toasted their life away.
Grant us the power of sight...
Another implement for staving off the inevitable decay.
This burnt husk is all that remains.
A mockery of life.
It doesn't mend the hole... merely masks it.
Father used to do silly dances like that.
Was he your brother?
It beats with a sorrow to span the skies and plumb the darkest seas.
Endless, swirling nothingness... how serene.
Such power.
For me, the world feels upside down.
Are the two heads aware of each other?
Another nightmare to torment me.
Will the darkness consume me at last?
What are you? The Grin Reaper?
Parasite.
There is no face beneath that hood.
A beautiful death bringer.
A shame it only works for beefalo.
What terrible things will I create?
I suppose if I tried I could piece it together.