“Saffron,” you say while marveling at the pale orange of a feline eye on their shoulder. “Where is it that you live?”
The angel claps hands together.
“I can show you,” they say warily, “if you like. It isn’t going to pleasant, but it’s your right to choose and it could be of use.”
Taking one of their blue hands in answer, you’re ejected completely out of your comfort zone as an entirely unimaginable experience is sprung upon your psyche with such force that it would have knocked the wind out of you. If your lungs needed oxygen, that is.
Like everything else in your surroundings, presently what might be called your breathing becomes an entirely foreign cycle, and you have absolutely no idea what’s going on around you.
A rush of voices sound inside your consciousness, along with all thought, sensation, and the emotions attached to each conveyer. It’s apparent there are a number of people around who must also be Angels. If you could look, you would, but the intensity of sensory input coming from so many avenues is more intense than anything you’ve ever known, and you’re doing your best at blocking it out.
A feeble attempt.
When enjoying autostereograms, an optical illusion from the two-dimensional designs create an effect of three-dimensional imagery depending on how and where you stare at it while relaxing the eyes in certain ways. As you do your best to glance about, you’re reminded of them while taking in the infinity of shapes and patterns wobbling in and out of a hazy spectrum. Everything, in all directions, is unspeakably more powerful to behold than the 2D to 3D impressions.
To make it all the more—err, alien—you’re not receiving visual cues from your own eyes, but from a great many locations. Pointing in multiple directions, you squirm a little when the feeling brings up thoughts of spiders, and the sensation of spiders crawling over your skin.
Peeking at the Angels to no avail, you can tell they’re singing—at least that’s the closest way you can describe it—but just as with the throb of exquisitely nauseating visuals, their voices are the most beautiful and most terrifyingly haunting sounds to ever reach your… ears?
The very idea of what your physical form even is right now is so unsteady, as you don’t feel connected to any of what you would normally identify with as being your own limbs and digits, organs, or any assortment of other body parts. You perceive that you are, but there’s no frame of reference pointing toward in what capacity that you exist.
With all the energy you can scrounge up, you let Saffron know you're ready to go back now.
Task:
As overwhelmed as you are, bits of meaning begin to seep into your awareness from the songs of all the Angels. For this task, write the Lyrics you can make out by sharing your own poetry below using 100 words or more. You must also include AT LEAST FIVE of the following words: Ecstatic, Spirit, Haunting, Dimension, Voices, Unified, Perception, Consciousness, Exquisite, Angelic, Illusion. (Note: you would also be welcome to use variations of these words, such as Spirited, Unification, Illusory, and so on)
Alternatively you can solve the following Fallen Letters puzzle and Send Me Your Solution through a private message.
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This task is worth 15 beans/sapphires, with an additional 15 bonus beans/sapphires for completing all Week Three tasks by end of activity. Deadline is 11:59pm (HOL time) on Sunday July 28th.
