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May. 22nd, 2008

A Messenger's Duty

(Gabriel Dominant)

I burn in my soul, for I have not yet delivered the message. 

The recipient of the message long evaded me, for I was unsure of which soul amongst them it was.  I could feel the grace of destiny weighing heavily upon their shoulders, but I knew not which one was destined for my words.  It could have been any, for each is in need of guidance from a divine source. 

Lo, I did suffer from the torment of leaving my duty unfulfilled.  The message must be delivered; it cares not if I, its mere communicator, have difficulty in doing so.  It must be delivered, and it tears at my being until it is. 

I lament, for I still lack the knowledge of the recipient's true identity!  I have observed them, but have learned nothing!  I have prayed for guidance from the divine forces that bestowed upon my body these glyphs of power and purpose, but they have seen fit to let me find my own path. 

I must calm myself.  I am becoming overwhelmed by the holy flame of the message stored within me, and I will lose myself in its brilliant depths if I do not find my balance.  I am the Messenger.  I was chosen for this duty, and I will fulfill it.  This is my role; this is my bond.  I am the Messenger.

Observing them has taught me nothing.  I do not even know how to consistently find them; they vanish for long stretches of time, and are nowhere to be found.  Even when they are in my sight, I only know that amongst them is the one to whom I must deliver my truths.  None of them stands out more than the others. 

Perhaps...Perhaps that is the answer.  Perhaps my message is not intended for one, but for all. 

Yes...Yes, this feels true to me.  I believe that this may very well be the nature of my message.  It is for each of them to hear.

Or...perhaps, just as they are each a part of some larger destiny, they each deserve a part of the grander message.

Though this is my first time as a true Messenger, I know that I shall not fail.  The message will reach those whom it is meant for, and they shall be enlightened by my words.  I am the Messenger, and I do not fail.

I am coming to you, travelers.  Prepare to bear witness. 

May. 21st, 2008

Questions And Partial Answers

(Michael Dominant)

I think I've figured out why I'm drawn to them, why I seem to need them.  I think it's because one of them can read the Enochian on my body.  One of them may hold the key to translating these sigils. 

I don't know what the sigils actually say.  It's possible that they will explain what's happened to me.  It's possible that translating them will be enough to cure me. 

But there's this nagging feeling in the back of my head that I'm completely wrong.  That the sigils were never meant to be translated, and the reason I'm so drawn to them has to do with something else. 

I don't know.  Maybe it's just a feeling.  After all, whatever happened to me clearly damaged my psyche.  Maybe it induced some kind of paranoia.  Maybe I'm just imagining things. 

Yeah, and maybe the sigils appeared because some kid decided to write on me with a magic marker one night. 

There's just so much I don't understand.  So much that's unclear.  Why me?  Why now?  What the hell are these sigils?  Why do I keep blacking out?  Why am I drawn to this crazed band of oddities?  I mean, one of them seems to thinks she's some kind of Hindu goddess.  Another can barely speak English, and clearly spends far too much under the influence of one illicit substance or another.  Their leader carries around copper plated vats of water on a regular basis.  And this is not to even mention the teenaged girl who I observed wandering around in a graveyard, trying to raise bodies from the dead.

Hah.  The worst part is that I don't even know if she succeeded.  I had one of my blackouts. 

I think I have to approach them.  Even if I wish I knew more about them, they're the only ones who seem even remotely capable of understanding my plight and helping me out.  They're the only ones who seem anywhere near as bizarre as me. 

I need to talk to them.  I need to get help from them soon.  Before the blackouts get any worse.  And before I change any more.

Oh, yes.  I'm changing.  I only began to notice it today.  I dropped my pen beneath my desk.  I tried to move my desk to get it.  Much to my surprise, the entire heavy, oak thing lifted right off the floor in my hands.  It felt like it weighed no more than a baby.

I need to talk to them.  Sooner, rather than later.

May. 20th, 2008

Steam & Sin

(Uriel Dominant)

Don't know where they come from.  Don't know where they go to.

Their sins burn on their flesh.  Need to be cleansed, need to be reborn into the fiery light.  Won't get close, though.  Too soon.  Don't know enough yet. 

One of them.  Call him captain.  He's an odd one.  Sins the color of oil and tarnished metal.  Looks soft.  Know he's not.  He's hard.  Willing to go the distance.  Willing to make the necessary sacrifices.  The others don't see it in him.  He's good at hiding it. 

Could learn to like him.  If he repented from his idolatry. 

The others...sinful wretches.  Drenched in their own individualized flavors of wickedness.  A living myth, sin of arrogance.  A savage murderess, sin of overindulgence.  A princess of the damned, sin of desire.  Each of them horrid, each of them monsters.  None beyond the redemption of holy flame. 

Could save them.  Could burn them.  Won't.  Yet. 

Know they have a vessel.  Have to.  How else do they travel?  Know vessel is steeped in the scent of their crimes.  Can smell it.  Should be able to track it.  Should be able to find it.

Can't.  Don't know why not. 

Don't like it.  Don't like it at all.

Know they're important.  Have to make contact.  Eventually.  Don't know why for sure, just know it's important. 

But won't make contact.  Not yet.  Need to know more.

Where is their ship?

Enochian Fragments

(Raphael dominant)

The Enochian sigils inscribed on my body are the key to my ailment.  This I know, and have known.  While they are not the cause, they did appear at the same time that I...assumed my current role.  Thus, these sigils must have some important role to play in explaining my condition. 

The others...Michael, Gabriel, Uriel...They disagree for one reason or another.  But it is unimportant.  They cannot stop me from examining what I must, any more than I can stop them from pursuing their varied interests while they are in control.  Indeed, it is just this fragmentation of control and mastership that I seek to repair.  One cannot function as a fragmented being.  One must have mastership over one's self.

I do acknowledge that I, myself, might be a product of the same event which caused the sigils' appearance.  As much as I find it unlikely, it is, indeed, a possibility that my own self is simply another fragmented shard of what was once a unified whole.  But it is no matter.  I am here now, and I will repair myself, and I will gain mastership over myself. 

Hence, an examination of the sigils.  I have not learned much, of course.  They are written in the Enochian script, and I have yet to find a text with which to decipher it.  But I have noted some interesting qualities.  For one, the skin which has been stained with the letters is indistinguishable from the skin around it.  Whatever caused the sigils to rise left absolutely no physical mark upon my body, besides the letters' actual appearance.  Furthermore, in my attempts to catalogue the sigils into a journal, I discovered two items of note.  One is that any text I inscribed the sigils upon would soon be destroyed, in some means or another, whether it was an accidental tipping of a bottle of ink, or a wind blowing it out the window and into a gas lantern across the street.  The other discover is much more disheartening.  It appears that the sigils on my body...are changing.  How and to what purpose, I do not know.  I observed myself for hours on end, while I was in control, and they did not appear to change.  But when next I was in command of myself, the sigils seemed to be in a much different pattern than before.

Alas, this may be a fruitless course of inquiry.  Though I am sure of the importance of the sigils, I have no way of deciphering them without a key, or an individual who would have such knowledge.  Perhaps there are other ways to undo whatever strange event befell me.  But I know not what they are.

I shall continue to search for an answer whenever it is mine to do so.  Let the others waste their time observing those insipid temporal travelers.  All of them broken individuals, none of them with even a hint of an idea of how to repair themselves.  Utter wastes.  I will spend my time on much more fruitful tasks. 

May. 18th, 2008


We've been watching them.

They don't know it but we've been watching them.

They jump through time, over and over and over again. I know it, I can read it on them. They're as dissociated from the rest of mankind as I am.

Gabriel thinks we need to go to them. He thinks we need to talk to them. He says he has a message for them. But Gabriel thinks we should talk to everybody. He thinks everybody could profit from our messages.

My messages. Not our messages. My messages. I am one person. I am an I. Even if I don't really know who I am.

Michael wants to watch them for a time longer, and Raphael thinks that they're all such broken individuals, far beyond help. Lost causes, Raphael says. Give them up. And of course, Uriel sees only sin.

I do not know which of them I am right now. Maybe I'm not any of them, at least for the moment. That is unfortunate. Knowing which of them I was would tell me what I should do.

But I do not know. So I shall wait. And watch.

And who knows? Maybe they watch back.