Information
Kenzo
Legacy Name: Kenzo
The
Scribble TelenineOwner: glass
Age: 11 years, 1 month, 4 weeks
Born: July 18th, 2015
Adopted: 11 years, 1 month, 3 weeks ago
Adopted: July 24th, 2015
Statistics
- Level: 1
- Strength: 10
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 0
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Toys Played: 0
- Job: Unemployed
Who knew something like this could have happened to him. Why even care about whether or not he is to be trusted? What else could have happened to make these events play out in this possible order. I always knew not to be terrified of the dark. The dark is where we all came from. It opens up a labyrinth within us that is all too familiar, cradling, almost like a child returning to a mother's womb. Who else could have testified this other than those who have experienced death and returned. Those who have resurrected, purposefully or not. There is not a religious factor to this phenomenon. It is simply a fact. Those who return from death confirm the existence of death. There are two states of being. Alive and dead. We have proven this with measurements, numbers, maddening numbers and the cold finality of time. Entropy. Decay. Ennui?
Kenzo reached for an amber-glass bottle at the edge of his writing desk. The bottle proved to be too precariously placed and rolled rather elegantly to the floor, breaking in a spectacular spiral pattern that sent glass and pill fragments flying in a golden rectangle of crystals. He bypassed the beauty and dove straight into agony. "Th-there's no way the pills should have shattered along with the glass!" Kenzo bargained to himself, throwing the wooden writing chair out from under him and carelessly falling to his knees in order to better examine the shattered pill bottle. Indeed, it had appeared as if the bottle itself had imploded. In fact, he remembered hearing a faint popping sound before the bottle had fallen from the desk.