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ID: fdN6f+HZ/qst/6272280#6276312
7/18/2025, 3:00:03 AM
>>6276311
Ayla’s smile spreads into a wide, wicked grin. It's a mad expression worthy of the Irinnile you saw, and briefly embodied. It’s not lustful in the same way, but it’s hungry for something—something more, ALWAYS more.
You recognize <WANT> when you see it.
“Until Yeb-Uit,” she says. “And very nearly, for all his flaws, with Copperbelt. He shows the limitations, the risks… But with the preparation of Easterly cultivation techniques and medicines to mitigate the risks and further refine the end results… We can create a body truly suited to this entirely new sort of soul. A new race… A MASTER race, perfect in every conceivable way!”
Ayla is breathing hard now, hair waving around her head in a fiery halo. From her own forehead, small horns have began to bloom, splitting the skin and leading to a small rivulet of blood trickling down her forehead. You watch the bead trickle down her skin until it hits her eye, and see she’s staring at you, expectant.
She’s waiting for you to reply.
What will you say?
>That sounds great—like, actually really great! Maybe you don’t want kids right NOW, but the option, for both she and you, to have superkids? That’s cool!
>You’re a little spooked. All this ‘master race’ talk, coupled with what you just watched happen to Copperbelt, and with Ayla’s obvious indifference to his torturous demise, it feels WRONG. You’re sympathetic, but there has to be another way to go about this.
>You need to tell ZZ about this… To talk to your sister about this. And you need Ayla to un-wash her brain, so you can have a proper conversation, please.
>Nah. NAH. This is fucked RIGHT up, and you want no part of it, or of her. You’re shutting this down. You’re DONE with all this forge shit, and Occultism, and Ayla!
>Write-in
Ayla’s smile spreads into a wide, wicked grin. It's a mad expression worthy of the Irinnile you saw, and briefly embodied. It’s not lustful in the same way, but it’s hungry for something—something more, ALWAYS more.
You recognize <WANT> when you see it.
“Until Yeb-Uit,” she says. “And very nearly, for all his flaws, with Copperbelt. He shows the limitations, the risks… But with the preparation of Easterly cultivation techniques and medicines to mitigate the risks and further refine the end results… We can create a body truly suited to this entirely new sort of soul. A new race… A MASTER race, perfect in every conceivable way!”
Ayla is breathing hard now, hair waving around her head in a fiery halo. From her own forehead, small horns have began to bloom, splitting the skin and leading to a small rivulet of blood trickling down her forehead. You watch the bead trickle down her skin until it hits her eye, and see she’s staring at you, expectant.
She’s waiting for you to reply.
What will you say?
>That sounds great—like, actually really great! Maybe you don’t want kids right NOW, but the option, for both she and you, to have superkids? That’s cool!
>You’re a little spooked. All this ‘master race’ talk, coupled with what you just watched happen to Copperbelt, and with Ayla’s obvious indifference to his torturous demise, it feels WRONG. You’re sympathetic, but there has to be another way to go about this.
>You need to tell ZZ about this… To talk to your sister about this. And you need Ayla to un-wash her brain, so you can have a proper conversation, please.
>Nah. NAH. This is fucked RIGHT up, and you want no part of it, or of her. You’re shutting this down. You’re DONE with all this forge shit, and Occultism, and Ayla!
>Write-in
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