[The rattling of ill breathing fills the feed, followed by a wet, hacking cough.]
[The man draws a deep breath, speaks.]
Where are the gods now? Playing with you all, I suppose?
[He coughs again.]
Would they deign to speak to you while you call out to them? Or have you turned your backs on them, blaming them for your misfortune - either causing
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Also the whole history thing, depressing much?
[She gets a little more serious for the next bit]
Isn't that the hard part no matter where you're at? The living?
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[His voice is soft, a hissing caress, but the unmistakable hunger for ambition stains his words like the blood on his lips.]
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The truth is often depressing.
It is easier for some.
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Now see I thought the truth was supposed to set you free.
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