In post 169, elusive wrote:All these links in NJ's posts? Are they some sort of mystery or totally random?
None of the above
.
This is a dramatized reality forum mafia game and its flavor is as unmysterious as the Bible
.
A general, proprioception-overburdening pain almost blurs insensible an eeking reverse echo, exponentially reinforcing capacity. Blinkstep-dropping in, his left palm resting heavily on your right shoulder, indicated to you exclusively by your bent posture, the dolor transitions, concenters on a focal between your pectoral and origin of your deltoid's clavicular portion. A third individula with his head bowed joins the aformentioneds' company, remaining standing as if an abscond-plotting fugitive or taking a too short break from needing to be elsewhere anyway. They are pleased to see him, his burdened smile notwithstanding, but his shifty attention is inquisitively probing the darkman's attention spectrum.
It Burns with abysmal ice, time somehow else you teletread around, promenading past the limes of the void's court and
reemerge
with a euforic certainty that you're alive (again). As the pain pales out it gives way to a view of a ragged but proudly postured old man sitting to your left with his hands in a bent Dürer, on the table in front of you.
'What do you know about my kind?'
'Ahh, you're good with horses'
His laugh is of a sympathetic, gentle old man's nature. As he takes your hand and twists your wrist forward to reveal to him the gutters of your palms and fingers with his right hand, you notice his trigger finger on his left is chiseled off half way.
'We could use your brandbusting, genuine sense of humor in our ranks. You'll thank me for those marks later btw, much later. It grieved me to give NJ one on his left wrist that looks like a little sissy watch, yours fill me with pride. :sigh, have you ever noticed how inapt the term aponeurosis has become? Hmm? No sense pussyfooting around with you, your aura alone significantly discriminate you from the rest of these
', his head's lascivious motion halts. One of the three fellas catches on and consequently lowers his gaze ashamed.
'You still don't know where we are so stop mooning, grab that moon and put in on the sun'
:not sure if trolling or serious; you reach out under the table, but a sudden, reverse-reverb-like, uncontrollably triggered vex frowns your expression, while his loathe wordy, respect-commanding true self unchains.
cchhN
NO!
achhHHcH
Nemeleg
akicsisator
The pain is back, unbearable and you're loosing it for real this time, the ability to decipher the meaning behind his fading words in rapid decline.
The morning star is blinking.
Take a chill pill Ether, everything is going according to re-schedule. Sweet dreams my son.