[ Maruki watches what he sketches with hawk-eyed, careful intent.
At first, he wants to push back against it. He's so used to the way he's always considered the collective unconscious – the way all cognitive psientists consider it, some great primordial soup pot of all human pathos. But is there any factual confirmation of that? Are the theories really even built on anything truly, unshakably solid? No, it's just the accepted way of things. And he's a researcher. He never takes anything at face value.
It feels so stupid, in hindsight.
And the diagram Akechi draws looks promising.
He's still staring at it even as Akechi prattles on, his own mind whirling with the possibility of layers on layers, winding corridors and twisted connections.
He needs Azathoth back. He needs him back so, so badly.
It's the explanation about the dolls that finally gets Maruki to lift his eyes. ]
That tracks. My thought from the very beginning was that any reality, especially one that contracts so many potentially volatile people into its existence, would not be so transparent and forthcoming about the true ruler in charge.
[ The very first dreamers who entered his cognitive Shujin office said it like such a simple fact. Vaeros, the ruler of this place. Why believe that on its face? After all– ]
It's the same in our comparatively mundane reality, isn't it?
[ He traces his fingers idly along the marble top of the bar, in meaningless patterns that reflect the jagged version of the collective unconscious that Akechi drew. ]
Tokyo alone is powered by people pulling strings in the shadows. To say nothing of the rest of the country, or the rest of the world. Nothing is ever as simple as it seems. So, to your point, I agree. A place like this needs figureheads to maintain an illusion.
[ He leans his cheek into his other hand, elbow resting on the counter, and lets his gaze wander away from Akechi. ]
I don't know. Maybe it's as simple as altering just one cognition to get the dominoes to start to fall. Nothing is without consequence, after all.
frothing so hard i'm a cappuccino
At first, he wants to push back against it. He's so used to the way he's always considered the collective unconscious – the way all cognitive psientists consider it, some great primordial soup pot of all human pathos. But is there any factual confirmation of that? Are the theories really even built on anything truly, unshakably solid? No, it's just the accepted way of things. And he's a researcher. He never takes anything at face value.
It feels so stupid, in hindsight.
And the diagram Akechi draws looks promising.
He's still staring at it even as Akechi prattles on, his own mind whirling with the possibility of layers on layers, winding corridors and twisted connections.
He needs Azathoth back. He needs him back so, so badly.
It's the explanation about the dolls that finally gets Maruki to lift his eyes. ]
That tracks. My thought from the very beginning was that any reality, especially one that contracts so many potentially volatile people into its existence, would not be so transparent and forthcoming about the true ruler in charge.
[ The very first dreamers who entered his cognitive Shujin office said it like such a simple fact. Vaeros, the ruler of this place. Why believe that on its face? After all– ]
It's the same in our comparatively mundane reality, isn't it?
[ He traces his fingers idly along the marble top of the bar, in meaningless patterns that reflect the jagged version of the collective unconscious that Akechi drew. ]
Tokyo alone is powered by people pulling strings in the shadows. To say nothing of the rest of the country, or the rest of the world. Nothing is ever as simple as it seems. So, to your point, I agree. A place like this needs figureheads to maintain an illusion.
[ He leans his cheek into his other hand, elbow resting on the counter, and lets his gaze wander away from Akechi. ]
I don't know. Maybe it's as simple as altering just one cognition to get the dominoes to start to fall. Nothing is without consequence, after all.