06-21-2020, 08:08 PM
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IVAN
slav. "god is gracious"
---
a son
a brother
[/td] slav. "god is gracious"
---
a son
a brother
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ALYOSHA, MY DEAR, MY ONLY SON, I'M AFRAID OF IVAN —
Ivan's exact state of mind at the moment is a tricky enigma, one that may be finally dissected and sorted out later, when all things have finally come to their destined point. He was quite beside himself due to some strong emotion, that was for sure. For about a month now, Ivan's mind was what he emphatically called a "living hellscape" and perhaps it was not far from the truth. But our young boy also denounced any sort of afterlife, so the metaphor was an irony in and of itself. At least, that is what he said to himself in his head. It truly is, as is said in his namesake's book, that
The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him.
He was oppressed by various thoughts that had only a short lifetime, exploding into supernovas and giving birth to new stars of ideas. He tossed them as rotting trash, unable to believe in anything his mind conjured up. Some ideas he recognized as his own, and some were completely new and shocked him. One recurring thought relentlessly circled back to him. That is, the surprising nature of Caustic and Octane. He was not sure why he seemed so certain now that he had heard of the multiple worlds theory that Caustic had introduced him to. At the time, he'd denied it, but the thought nagged him that he had seen it somewhere. But where?
This thinking left him with one of the worst migraines he had yet experienced. Ivan hid his condition remarkably well. He did not necessarily think he was ill. Even if he did, he still had some unfinished goal he had to work towards, one he apparently valued higher than his actual health.
He disappeared this evening without a trace. He hadn't been seen in the town since noon. "I'm going to the Typhoon." He replied to the npc or two had bothered to ask where he was going. He wore a childish and blissful grin as he said this, not at all suited for the content of his head.
He was not going to the Typhoon. He didn't even know why he said that. It very well may be that word had passed around, but Ivan was not in the town to see it happen.
Suddenly the duckweed turned to razor grass, and the fresh water met the saline water. Ivan had wandered toward the shore. The pebbles felt cool under his paws. He moved forward further, as if guided by some invisible hand. Ivan set his focus on a point beyond the horizon. He was elbow deep in water when he stopped and strained his ears as if he had heard something. His mind was still exploding with stars.
Ivan was yanked out from under his feet by a strong current. He ducked under for a moment and shut his eyes. His head surfaced again and he gasped for breath, unable to call out. His paws flailed to try to save his own wretched skin, but the current was too strong and was dragging him away from the coast and into the shallows of the sea. Ivan only allowed tears to prick his eyes when he could not feel the ground under his paws. He strained to keep his head above the water and keep the land in his sight.
He had to close his eyes again. The sun was too bright.
The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him.
He was oppressed by various thoughts that had only a short lifetime, exploding into supernovas and giving birth to new stars of ideas. He tossed them as rotting trash, unable to believe in anything his mind conjured up. Some ideas he recognized as his own, and some were completely new and shocked him. One recurring thought relentlessly circled back to him. That is, the surprising nature of Caustic and Octane. He was not sure why he seemed so certain now that he had heard of the multiple worlds theory that Caustic had introduced him to. At the time, he'd denied it, but the thought nagged him that he had seen it somewhere. But where?
This thinking left him with one of the worst migraines he had yet experienced. Ivan hid his condition remarkably well. He did not necessarily think he was ill. Even if he did, he still had some unfinished goal he had to work towards, one he apparently valued higher than his actual health.
He disappeared this evening without a trace. He hadn't been seen in the town since noon. "I'm going to the Typhoon." He replied to the npc or two had bothered to ask where he was going. He wore a childish and blissful grin as he said this, not at all suited for the content of his head.
He was not going to the Typhoon. He didn't even know why he said that. It very well may be that word had passed around, but Ivan was not in the town to see it happen.
Suddenly the duckweed turned to razor grass, and the fresh water met the saline water. Ivan had wandered toward the shore. The pebbles felt cool under his paws. He moved forward further, as if guided by some invisible hand. Ivan set his focus on a point beyond the horizon. He was elbow deep in water when he stopped and strained his ears as if he had heard something. His mind was still exploding with stars.
Ivan was yanked out from under his feet by a strong current. He ducked under for a moment and shut his eyes. His head surfaced again and he gasped for breath, unable to call out. His paws flailed to try to save his own wretched skin, but the current was too strong and was dragging him away from the coast and into the shallows of the sea. Ivan only allowed tears to prick his eyes when he could not feel the ground under his paws. He strained to keep his head above the water and keep the land in his sight.
He had to close his eyes again. The sun was too bright.
— I'M MORE AFRAID OF IVAN THAN THE OTHER ONE.