She is a novice and simply cannot be left unattended. There will be all manner of problems arising from her ineptitude, he said, he thought, she wondered. However gracious he is feeling now, the hand will bite another on top of that particular sundae. Not the cherry, like forever the squaring Mary - the hand, if you will, pirating even, what may be seen with an eye to blame. It's all somewhat discontinuous, but is that perception? One may believe that she had, albeit long ago, empirical evidence to support such claims. Gradually, everyone died, as they are wont to do over any relatively protracted extension of time/space. The vessel had, after all, disappeared almost a decade ago (could it have been a hundred-thousand years already?). "Villians be damned", she howled, this time for real. "I am a leader if I don't want to be restricted and a warrior whose ice is colder than her sabre, or whatever." She thought again, that is not so good. She couldn't believe it; once again - a dismal and incendiary failure. Her ambition to become the White Bride of the Magick Box was foiled at every turn. Her monster eyeballs stared into the darkness, through and beyond the colonnades, and out into the perfect Ain Soph of Huh? "Nobody cared", she remembered, out loud. She said he thought she couldn't live anymore, especially if she were not allowed to live, he thought, she thought. What? How could she let him go on like that? He ate and slept and dreamed in ghosts, timing for a change in her eyes but had come - no more him. Furious, she screamed, ransacking the furrows of her Green and Fertile Plains. "Help me win!" Her lungs died in popping screeches. Puffs of air escaping her ears behind the force and pressure of eyes. But it is highly unlikely, particularly if she wanted to conserve energy, that they neither knew nor named numerous nubiles.
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