Sugarpetal & The Figure

Nothingness

The figure lay resting on its back with cords exiting from its spine, paralleling down its side, and connecting to a power supply on the nearest wall. The figure knew no face, for it could never look at one for more than a second; all it saw were bodies moving through the earth like soulless vessels taking up precious space. The figure itself had no face, no prominent features, no identity, and no soul. The mirrors through which it saw itself only assured the thoughts created through endless discontent for its own self. The figure was a male, but he felt that a male was so much different than what he was. He was unlike the rest, and he felt lesser than them in more ways than one could envision. So he went through the world passing bodies, and bodies, never making facial contact with anyone. It's as though the figure's face were made of heavy metal, and the earth carried underneath it a strong magnetic pull, weighing him down as he lived his life.

There were moments when the earth would rest and the magnetic pull would release the figure's grasp. But the eyes the figure saw during those brief moments of release, were, only that, temporary, and they burned holes where he should have had eyes. Now the light that entered him was unfiltered, raw, and corrosive. He had eyes now, but he was blind, not in seeing, but in feeling. Not knowing how to discern harmful rays, he welcomed them, and they did massive damage to his core.

Aromas swirled around the figure, and he grew a nose, but he inhaled all in too quickly and it impaired his scent. The stench from rotten corpses, flesh that decayed made no difference to him, for he could not smell the putrid atmospheric whiffs of dead life. And so he carried dead life with him on his shoulders, and he grew tired, so he let the corpses fall and moved along. There were roses with the most beautiful scent ever created only a few feet from his path, but he could not smell them, and so he carried on. The roses grew on the limbs of the loveliest creature who wore lavender skin, colorful rainbow hair, and the highest self-esteem this world has ever seen. This being's name was Sugarpetal, the Spirit of all that is Divine.

Lips grew on the figure, they were soft, but they withered when the poison of others touched them. His lips decayed and now only a hole was present; it emit sounds, unformed words, and he is not able to communicate what he most needs to say out to the world.

The Figure lost much retention of his power through malign encounters. He now needed to recharge more than a few times a day, when before all he needed was one charge. There were moments when he almost died and he found himself running back home to plug into his power supply. There were times when he would die far away from home, and no one aided him or helped recharge him with their own supply. He supposed he wasn't worthy of their power.