Lucid Prt 2 to start

Something in the way the word "ears" sounds in her own instantly gives Blake a chill, hand trimmer, and sweaty palms. She can smell the saline pooling on her upper lip. She slowly tastes the salt from the corner of her mouth with the tip of her tongue. The hint of marijuana smoke on the air should be evidence enough, but it isn’t until Vrail appears in the doorway that Blake realizes that this, in fact, is not the waking world she was once born into, but for a while had been so convincing that the realization almost brings her to tears. It seems this realm has no intentions on ever letting her go but is willing to pull the preverbal wool over her eyes from time to time to ease her turbulent mind.

Blake begins to wonder if she is dead and in hell.

“Either way. Oh well.” Vrail shrugs and passes Blake the blunt.

She hits it as they walk together down the hall. A creepy Doppler Effect from the florescent lights buzzes by above their heads as they float towards an uneasy darkness.

“Was that your son in there?”

Vrail answers with a smartass chuckle and this mischievous smirk he’s always been known for. It was his most enduring personal characteristic, and Blake’s favorite.

Eventually they breach the darkness and emerge into a courtyard. The scene is beautiful, serene and surreal juxtaposed with personified emotions that wonder aimlessly, rush by enthusiastically, pout sullenly, and otherwise emote emphatically among one another; most sparing no attention for anyone or anything aside from themselves.

Blake’s gaze is drawn to an unbelievably beautiful woman sitting alone on the edge of a flowing fountain. The water behind her shimmers in multicolored light like that paint that’s purple from one direction, and green from another. Kind of like liquid hazel eyes. With face in hands, she cries crimson tears that run streaks down her arms and pool on her thighs where her elbows rest. Each vertebrate of her spine has been replaced with an appropriately sized razorblade. Hunched over, her back resembles some sort of horrific death fan, transforming her from beauty to saw blade. The razor-sharp edges protrude from her skin, but the sadistic smile stretched across her scarred face seems to imply that she enjoys the pain.

What is this place?

“What does it feel like?”

“It feels like hell.”

Vrail doesn’t respond. Instead, they press on. Blake tries not to stare as they pass, but her resolve doesn’t last long. They make eye contact, and immediately, Blake understands the totality of this woman’s baneful existence. Her life’s miseries, all of her memories, are burned into Blake’s psyche immediately. It triggers an avalanche of emotions within herself, and Blake surrenders to never ending pain for what feels like an eternity. But one thing she has come to realize is that eternity, though infinite in totality, is split into finite fragments just long enough to convince you with the fortitude of their feigned forever. Just long enough to break your will. She knows it, but still can hold on no longer. The immense agony is much more than she’s able to endure and extends far beyond her faith. She is exhausted for lifetimes. She lives and dies in agonizing pain until all else is gone from her brain. And then… this too is over.

Blake and Vrail stand inside a cave.

Lit in a soft, gentile glow from an unseen source. No fire, no candles, no lamps or flashlights, just a glow. A warm, wonderful glow. One that welcomes Blake to entirely forget she had ever been a razor-studded death fan at all. After all, she hadn’t really; had she?

Blake follows Vrail deeper into this majestic crevice as it opens up revealing itself to be a vast, subterranean temple.

Still no sign of the source of the light; the room itself seems to glitter with its own golden light. Gorgeously decorated and vast enough to be safely inhabited by a large village, the space feels empty aside from two men lunching together at a square table. One man is much older, shorter, and wider than the other and entirely bald. Both men have the most radiant brown skin, brilliantly bright, unnaturally white teeth, and eyes that shone like the sun. The younger of the two men has an essence much larger than life. His thick mane of dread locks puts Vrail’s to shame several times over. His broad shoulders and massive back appear unbreakable.

Both men dress modestly, yet regal in their own way. They mirror one another, seated crossed-legged and barefooted with their bare soles shrouded from view by their robes.

Blake is in awe of how clean the stone floor of the cave temple is. Obsidian. Dark. Reflective. Protective.

Without words, the two men offer for Blake and Vrail to join them at their table. The feast lain before them wants for nothing.

Blake and Vrail seat themselves on the cushioned floor crossing the two instructors. They bow their heads in silent gratitude for the invitation to eat, and offer thanks to God for his grace, mercy, and forgiveness. And then, they eat. They eat until their hearts’ content.

The tall man with the universe in his stare, speaks so softly, his voice hardly there; almost like his intentions are known before knowing, but his laugh is unmistakable, like rolling thunder. A fierce, heavy, joyful laugh, full of promise, high in hope. This laugh, the two masters have in common, and Blake finds her soul wanting to imitate theirs whenever her ears are blessed to hear them. Infectious in the a most fantastic way.

When the laughter and joy has taken Blake to a place far enough away for the painful memories to fade and dissipate, she follows her masters and guide to a place nearly impossible to describe.

A Goddess, resplendent, radiant, breathtakingly majestic, floats peacefully in the absolute center of the space. The ceiling seems to reach clear to the heavens while the desolate obese below clearly touches hell, evidenced by the moaning of a million souls and the ungodly, if unmistakable, stench of both rotting and burning human flesh.

Blake pears down into the dank darkness and loses her breath at the sensations that overwhelm her perception.

Vrail yanks her back just before she tumbles down into oblivion.

The imprisoned goddess takes notice of her visitors and silently greets the two masters with a sinister smile. They bow in response. Blake and Vrail follow suit. The goddess, pleased with their reverent respect, comes alive to please her patrons.

While when Blake and her companions walked in, the goddess was seated on an invisible, intangible pedestal cross-legged in a classic meditative position, now that she’s taken notice of her guests, her entire being has come alive. She flips and twirls and kind of flutters and dives like a butterfly made of warmth and light but also the darkest of nights. She is beauty and majesty amplified. Personified vengeance when its fully justified. Her essence is so difficult to capture in words. The most gorgeous contradiction imaginable in terms of defying explanation. Both her furry and elegance tangible, electrifying, and altogether terrifying, but Blake can’t peel her eyes away. Neither can the three men in the room, but no one has any intention of sparing any attention for any single thing other than this creature’s beauty. Ravishingly magnificent indeed.

Who knows how long they stood there and stared. No one worthy to be there could care, so they stared at this living goddess until all that they had ever experienced of euphoria was exhausted. And she left them in cold, dark, silence.