The highest category of historic individual -- an embodiment of the World Spirit.
Intellect
Before thought effects; other dialogue conditions may apply.
692 · Voice lines
The highest category of historic individual -- an embodiment of the World Spirit.
In a city called Advesperascit, in Vesper-Messina, her homeland. The name of the city means 'Evening comes,' but it happened on a winter's morning with the canals frozen and slush falling out of the sky.
Oh, she was insultingly beautiful. She was humanity's young mother, a perfect mother. It was as if her face and shoulders and hands were covered in a soft down of under-feathers. You know this well -- very well.
One of the men in this secret service killed her -- 22 years later. A young man who had come to suspect that Dolores Dei was not entirely human, but something else.
Terrifying is a term too emotionally charged for your semantic memory. Or what remains of it, but...
No amount of Commodore Red can wipe her sad smile from your brain-thing. It has survived the deluge and haunts you still. And will haunt you forever, as it haunts all men.
An innocence is infallible. The decisions made by one are not decisions. They are inevitabilities -- what would have happened anyway, only accelerated, packed into decades instead of centuries. An Innocence is a continuous, compressed event, a sacred human being. It is an honour and a glory to live when one is in office.
Bystanders reported golden filaments lighting the already sunlit chamber around her, clearly visible beneath her dress. I repeat: Her lungs started glowing. Do you care now?
All you know is, this is the young mother of humanity -- and that you should go. Do something else! Escape her sad, worryworn look.
AFTER LIFE -- DEATH; AFTER DEATH -- LIFE AGAIN. AFTER THE WORLD -- THE PALE; AFTER THE PALE -- THE WORLD AGAIN. This is the great leitmotiv of humanism, a summary of the effect of the discovery of this isola -- the Insulindian -- on human thinking. A tremendous sea change akin to finding life after death...
It was on her advice that Irene La Navigateur sponsored a number of voyages into the pale. A costly, often tragic endeavour, ultimately vindicated by the discovery of the New New World, the piece of reality you're standing on...
The worst of the banlieues. A wretched heap of closed-down mines even west of Jamrock, on the dusty slope of Mont Martin. The remotest possible area of Revachol, no one even wants to exploit those people anymore.
It's probably amphetamine -- It makes you feel impervious to the elements, but doesn't actually make you any less cold.
Your mangled brain would like you to know there is a boxer called Contact Mike.
Your mangled brain would like you to know there is a boxer called Contact Mike.
Jamrock is a district of Revachol comprised of the following quarters: Pox, Villalobos, Central Jamrock, Grand-Couron, Old South and the Valley of the Dogs. Learning is great!