orenji_echo



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    Deliverer. Deliverer. Deliverer.

    Only one. Only one person had ever called him that with true sincerity.

    He stared at the long, endless road ahead of him and couldn’t bring himself to look behind him. He had heard that voice too often in those four million and one cycles only to find they were nothing but delusions—of course. Of course. What else could they have been? What else could it be now? How could it be anything but his fractured mind trying to conjure some comfort he didn’t deserve in his final moments—

    “You sure took your time getting here. Now you can’t even bring yourself to face me?”

    After four million and one cycles, the very first Phainon finally passes the mantle of Khaslana onto the next Phainon. The Coreflames had both ravaged and sustained his body, and without them he crumbles to ash. When Amphoreus itself is a lie, the gentle West Wind and Sea of Flowers must be as well. So, that should be the end of his pitiful existence.

    Instead, he wakes up in a library—Irontomb’s data archive of previous cycles. And there he reunites with the very first Mydei.

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    13 Jul 2025

  2. Public Bookmark 75

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    15He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”

    Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”

    John 20: 1-17

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    19 Jan 2025

  3. Public Bookmark 36

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    Whatever the truth of his origins, someone like Ororon was never meant to live as long as he has already. He just wants to make it all mean something before he disappears.

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    27 Nov 2024

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Capitano recovers from his injuries. Ororon takes care of him.

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    13 Oct 2024

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Kaveh feels warmth across his face without really meaning to. “That is irrelevant. It’s a simple yes or no question. You’d remember if you left a piece of paper in the cup cabinet of all places, right? So, did you, or did you not?”

    For some reason, Alhaitham does not reply, instead staring him down with an emotion that Kaveh does not have a name to in his eyes. The feeling falls heavy on Kaveh’s chest, and he feels the slightest twinge.

    The architect walks out of the living room and into his own, shutting the door behind him. Sliding down his door, he looks down at the paper in his hands, rereading the words that were crafted seemingly gently together. He reads and reads and reads until he no longer needs to do so to recite the poem. He feels the words in his heart, and along with it, an ache of hurt.

    Or, Alhaitham leaves poetry around the house as a way of confessing to Kaveh. Kaveh has no idea (somewhat).

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    11 May 2023