[ be it far for ren to ever describe the haunting, twisted and sometimes uncomfortably fleshy halls of mementos as 'comforting', but as of right the fuck now, he's starting to miss the old mementos. old mementos used to resonate with the chilling screams of human cognition. it sometimes dripped unidentifiable liquids onto your head and usually smelled like a strong combination of human despair and something like peppermint. old mementos may not have been the most cheery place known to mankind, but it was a relatively known evil. you knew the pitch of the screams, you knew the consistency of the dripping, and on a good day, you could side-step both by having a nice pair of headphones and knowing where to put your feet. ren would honestly trade the odd, off-kilter feeling that's permeated the consciousness of mankind for it any day. he'd trade it for a cornchip, even, though satan stirs in his soul and informs him that the joke isn't particularly funny and that he didn't even like cornchips anyway. which figured, because ren himself wasn't a huge fan of cornchips, and therefore he continues the usual rigmarole of self-sabotage even when it comes to really bad jokes.
whatever that ren tells himself to stay sane aside, the newly changed mementos is subtle, difficult to place. if ren had to describe it, it's that the underlying despair is quieter, the weight of human cognition as a whole lighter. he doesn't like the fact that it feels weird that mankind's happier now. that's what it is. ren isn't exactly the foremost scholar on this sort of thing, but if people think that trauma hasn't happened to them because, say, your therapist decided to discard their reality and superimpose his own kicking and screaming onto them, it stands to reason that people are just happier.
ren is no happier knowing this. mementos squelches beneath his feet, the phantom ghostly wind billowing past him whispering of secrets in languages that haven't been invented yet, and ren sets off to discover the undiscoverable.
miles of track seem unfathomably long without the mona-car. perhaps part of the weirdness of mementos right now stems from the fact that ren's never been down here alone. he pads his way down a set of escalators and follows the pale red veins towards the shuttered end of a line that never once existed in human cognition. the ground is warm. it's hard to discern how he knows this, but ren has ever been mastered by his instincts. if he took some time to think about it, a kinder reality is a warmer reality, one closer to the beating heart of humanity that runs on kinder stories, but what this is telling ren is that he couldn't be on the wrong path, even though he's not quite certain where the right path should lead. instinct takes him three more turns that gets him to the glowing, pale-lit turnstiles that line the newest set of escalators still-gleaming in the pale pink light. the realisation comes that he knows precisely where this leads. people had been caged here; many people had been caged here. this had been where the holy grail had sat, glutton on the enslaved souls of the subjugated. ren pads down the escalators and supposes to himself that if anything were to be found here, it might as well be here. the important things in life were always buried in the deepest recesses of human consciousness. it was how that stupid genocidal stewpot managed to turn everyone into mushy red rain the first time around, and he'd be damned if maruki didn't tap into the same tried and true method because - and this is a real thought that's just flit into his headL how many other methods can there to subjugate humanity?
too many, satan laughs, and ren tells him, wryly, to shut up and let him monologue.
his thoughts are disrupted as he descends the next set of escalators, stepping foot into the heart of mementos. he's not alone, he realises. he realises this the same way that birds know the name of the incoming storm. the shift in the air is like the sweep of a blade; the stale, congealed air that pools at the bottom of the human condition takes on the faint tinge of blood. immediately, ren's knife is in his hand as he surveys what looks to be someone humanoid. at this distance, it's hard to see if they have a mask on, or if they're dripping blood, gore and shadow ooze, but the fact that they're where the holy grail once stood can't be a coincidence. at this distance, however, ren knows that if he has spotted the person, the person has spotted them back. look unto the abyss and the abyss gazes back, he thinks, and satan informs him with undue patience - you're using the phrase wrong, fool. ren doesn't laugh, but he does twirl his knife.
the smart part of him thinks he should call out a neutral 'hey'. instead, the smartass part of him offers a neutral: ]
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whatever that ren tells himself to stay sane aside, the newly changed mementos is subtle, difficult to place. if ren had to describe it, it's that the underlying despair is quieter, the weight of human cognition as a whole lighter. he doesn't like the fact that it feels weird that mankind's happier now. that's what it is. ren isn't exactly the foremost scholar on this sort of thing, but if people think that trauma hasn't happened to them because, say, your therapist decided to discard their reality and superimpose his own kicking and screaming onto them, it stands to reason that people are just happier.
ren is no happier knowing this. mementos squelches beneath his feet, the phantom ghostly wind billowing past him whispering of secrets in languages that haven't been invented yet, and ren sets off to discover the undiscoverable.
miles of track seem unfathomably long without the mona-car. perhaps part of the weirdness of mementos right now stems from the fact that ren's never been down here alone. he pads his way down a set of escalators and follows the pale red veins towards the shuttered end of a line that never once existed in human cognition. the ground is warm. it's hard to discern how he knows this, but ren has ever been mastered by his instincts. if he took some time to think about it, a kinder reality is a warmer reality, one closer to the beating heart of humanity that runs on kinder stories, but what this is telling ren is that he couldn't be on the wrong path, even though he's not quite certain where the right path should lead. instinct takes him three more turns that gets him to the glowing, pale-lit turnstiles that line the newest set of escalators still-gleaming in the pale pink light. the realisation comes that he knows precisely where this leads. people had been caged here; many people had been caged here. this had been where the holy grail had sat, glutton on the enslaved souls of the subjugated. ren pads down the escalators and supposes to himself that if anything were to be found here, it might as well be here. the important things in life were always buried in the deepest recesses of human consciousness. it was how that stupid genocidal stewpot managed to turn everyone into mushy red rain the first time around, and he'd be damned if maruki didn't tap into the same tried and true method because - and this is a real thought that's just flit into his headL how many other methods can there to subjugate humanity?
too many, satan laughs, and ren tells him, wryly, to shut up and let him monologue.
his thoughts are disrupted as he descends the next set of escalators, stepping foot into the heart of mementos. he's not alone, he realises. he realises this the same way that birds know the name of the incoming storm. the shift in the air is like the sweep of a blade; the stale, congealed air that pools at the bottom of the human condition takes on the faint tinge of blood. immediately, ren's knife is in his hand as he surveys what looks to be someone humanoid. at this distance, it's hard to see if they have a mask on, or if they're dripping blood, gore and shadow ooze, but the fact that they're where the holy grail once stood can't be a coincidence. at this distance, however, ren knows that if he has spotted the person, the person has spotted them back. look unto the abyss and the abyss gazes back, he thinks, and satan informs him with undue patience - you're using the phrase wrong, fool. ren doesn't laugh, but he does twirl his knife.
the smart part of him thinks he should call out a neutral 'hey'. instead, the smartass part of him offers a neutral: ]
Marco.
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guess who started playing p5r...