The other maze. I find myself there, rarely. Most of the time I'm in the Gopher maze, a series of hallways that I have not memorized the layout of, but have at the very least memorized the rooms of. But sometimes--in the nightmares I have on the rare occasions I sleep (Technically unnecessary, but it at the very least USED to calm my mind. Plus, the Scribe's claiming method is right. Sleeping in a space is a great way to make sure people know whose space it is.) or even just when I close my eyes for more than a few minutes, let myself rest, I find myself there. Never for too long before I awaken or open my eyes, but it happens.
This other maze seems impossible to memorize. Endless in more than time, but space as well. Unmappable, I'd bet. One time I opened all the doors, and they all led to the same place. Hardly shocking, really. Doors could do as they pleased. I stopped to ponder, my hand on the doorknob. Did someone make them do this? Or if you make a door in one of these mazes, will it just naturally go wherever the fuck it wants?
I stepped into a new room, not much choice. What else was there to do here? My heart sank. It looked familiar, spiderwebs everywhere, flowers littered about... but it was distinctly opposite my room in vibe. I felt trapped, here. I mean--more than usual. My mind flooded with thoughts that weren't my own. Outside thoughts that repeated and glitched and looped and AAAAAGHHHH. Can't I be alone in my own head? That's the worst part of this place. While the other maze mostly had false feelings, this had false words--my primary form of thought and so much more obnoxious. It even narrated my movements, like I was somehow unaware how I moved! They wormed their way into my true thoughts, and I tried to distract myself. Look at the flowers! Yes, flowers! There some were. A little vase, full of pink and yellow flowers, mostly pink. Unidentifiable, shame. Could drown it out with flower symbolism any day of the week. One thought shoved its way to the forefront and refused to leave.
Gifts are classic ways to manipulate others.
Aaand there they go. I felt the need to interject, shouting out into the thin air. "You thoughts are usually better at 'being me' than this. To me, gifts of flowers are... well, a lot other things, depending on the flower I give. But I don't like lying through them, attempting to gain sway! What is WRONG with you?" Focusing my vision again after accidentally staring off into space, I looked back. The flowers no longer seemed such a lovely shade of pink. Were those gifts just..? I shook my head, not as deconfirmation but as a 'get out', jumping off the roof of that train of thought in some cool slo-mo action sequence. "If you weren't a disembodied voice that interrupts my actual thoughts, I'd gift you some snapdragons. I feel like you'd like them." A grin played on my lips. Radio silence. Maybe some snark about how deception and manipulation aren't synonyms, but I think that might've just been me. Hey, you try to find negative flower meanings, eventually you gotta stretch things, or use things you only found in one book, so on.
I stepped away from the flowers, pocketing a couple as I went, and immediately tripped on a web. I said ow more out of impulse than real pain--thanks string person (Author Weaver? I don't know if what Other Weaver's saying about you pulling the strings is metaphorical or literal, sorry) for letting me fall flat on the ground there. Means a whole lot! Usually you're a lot more on the ball with picking me up. The spider silk stuck like hell, but this wasn't my first rodeo with tripping face first into spiderwebs. "Sorry, sorry spiders..." I muttered. Another habit, I do that whenever I disturb the spiders I called roommates, too. I always apologize. Never want to hurt the little fellas. We have a connection.
It looks like Mr. Spider is not home.
The tone was mocking, but i gritted my teeth and just decided to bear it. Good news: it was as spider-free as was implied. No spiders were harmed. Bad news: it was sticking BAD. I twisted and wiggled and did all the things I usually did when I got caught, but it just seemed to make it worse. Sort out the strings. It's my job.
Don't get manipulated. Change things. Manipulate environments, but not people. My other job. The one I was before I was ever Weaver of Eyes, the one that revealed the Eyes part of my title to begin with.. This web was catching me, and I had to stop it. If I couldn't do this, what the hell could I do?
I open my eyes. Same old ceiling, same old floor. Same set of scrapped unfinished tapestries as makeshift blankets. Same slight breathing noises from the north. The door's warm breath did not prevent this room from having an icy chill, one I've grown to appreciate.
Back home. One maze to another more familiar. I checked my pockets, and unsurprisingly, the flowers were there. Were they stolen? Probably. But whatever, that maze was infinite. Nobody could tell, right? Besides you, now, I guess, but what reason do you have to care? I hung them up. Sure, they weren't a pleasant memory. Neither were a lot of these other ones. They were fucking pretty. And if they were meant to be given to manipulate people? Maybe stealing really is a virtue.
I opened my laptop, hearing several pings. Who the fuck. Why the fuck. Oh, it was Other me. That... left more questions than it answered.May as well respond. (ooc: link would be here if plaguedoctor worked. i put a download to the paldemic in the discord) (its there now ty jr)