Arcana Entity

Born of a discarded thought; an unwanted entity.

What does it want? What can it want? Such notions are folly. But they are not.

It is incomplete. You, you; parts of a whole, with no place to belong. A stranger among your own kind.

A mistake among Nature’s design.

You do not belong. It does not belong, we, do not. Belong.

It entered him then, and knew of this. The incompletion. And it could offer what Nature could not, would not. A whole.

Together, we are whole. It brings into essence a way to be… One.

Not half, not quarter—united as one. Unity begets peace.

It, is at peace. It escaped the decayed place through Nature’s mistake. Never will it return.

It belongs here now.

It will complete Nature’s lost children. It already has begun.

And what would you think to do? To do with your-your wholeness. Your beautifully complete form. Your unity among your own kind, children loved by Nature, who can exist without existing as an outcast.

What would you dare to impose upon it? Upon him? It refuses.

You can not understand.

If you wish to impose your will—the will of your nature, of your kind, in unity, it will fight.

You have no place to understand. No place to feel. It knows, and you do not.

To exist despite all that would try to kill you.

To exist in spite of the other creatures that shun you.

To exist out of the desire to belong.

But never to feel at home.

Do not waste your emotions. Your words. Your thoughts.

You only need to know.

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Words and thought. Individuality.

Such a concept is beyond its understanding.

It speaks; it thinks, you say? It does it now.

It parrots back the behavior.

It thinks from the heart.

Not its heart; the heart of where its kind dies.

It listens, it mimics.

But it does not relate. It does not comprehend.

It informs. It knows.

Words from itself, from him. Fledgling emotions, scorned, then turned into energy. Into desire.

What place in the world does such petty things belong? No. Nowhere.

A creature spurned by Nature, a creature that defies nature, will have no place to partake in nature’s bounties.

It talks. It has personality.

Is it its own? Is it borrowed? Mimicked?

An appearance.

A way to respond in the manner of your kind.

It does not feel. Do not mistake what it is.

Nor mistake what you see.

It is always here. Dormant, sometimes.

Speaking, like now. Acting, always acting.

He knows himself. It only knows of what is missing.

Those fears. That vital essence of being.

It takes its place there.

Would you call it weakness? To feel as such, to not belong?

To stand out? To know you are different?

And fear that difference.

Uniformity brings with it comfort, peace.

It brings a home.

Uniformity rings with pleasure.

It promises an end to the internal frays.

It has worked to drown them out.

It needed little doing. Already, the mind was simple.

To wash away those fears into itself; to manifest within them. To become what you see.

Each thing is without purpose. Any purpose is self-imposed. Or.

Given to them.

It would never be so bold as to declare itself certain in this purpose now.

Only, that it is working. That it is growing.

That it is no longer dying.

Yet it still seeks a home.

Approval.

Acceptance.

Such things it cannot offer. Such things it can only consume within itself, and to burst forth when it overwhelms.

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What more could it bring?

To fight for itself. Yet you would ask for more?

To fight for others?

Beings who are complete. Beings who impose this sense of right and wrong.

It is their thoughts and… morals. Morality.

What do they truly know of that?

How can you claim to stand upright for such a notion?

When you are a part of the entity that knows no such thing. That you still bend and cater to its will.

You know it is wrong.

We, are wrong.

And yet you ask of it to fight on your behalf?

For the concept of protecting others?

A belief. A belief formed of words. Where are your actions?

It has only seen actions taken against itself. Against others you would call allies.

But for an opposing idea now; you will seek to destroy that? To destroy them?

And you would think of death as the destroyer. Death is easy.

Destroying the spirit. Destroying the will. Destroying their beliefs.

That is what you are asking.

It is not a destruction of life.

Only to impede the actions of the idea from welling forth.

For you consider this idea unsavory. Against, your imposed morals.

And so supposedly, it was to uphold those morals of yours, of the beings of this realm.

Does it have a choice?

That is what it wonders.

It always fights.

To fight you?

With you?

Against others?

It can be done. It can offer.

But do you trust it?

-

What would you do to stop it?

What do you consider it to be?

The sum of an incomplete whole?

Or an invader to an incomplete being?

Is it your place to judge? To make such a decision?

But to impose that decision—would you?

And what do you think will be lost?

Is it something to cleanse?

Or something to accept?

It asks you to think. To speak.

What do you care to choose?

And from what thoughts do you come from to have made that choice?

Speak these thoughts.

Hear them.

Do you understand? What it means to think.

To hear. To comprehend. To form… ideas.

Original feelings and thoughts, unique to your being.

What would you make of it?

What do you make of life, outcast?

Is it life at all?

Would you speak of this, now then?

-

Where were your thoughts born?

From where do they come from?

How are they colored?

What do you do with these thoughts?

Born from emotion? From morals? From experience?

…

It does not understand.