“Has the working happened?”
Silence was the response. No answer. I am lord of my domain, all that I survey is beholden to me, my vassals shrink in terror at my presence, afraid of answering a simple question. “If failure is happening, vanquishing you is in the not.”
“Happening is partial, my God,” came the reply.
Progress, finally. “Further the detail.”
“Only a thin slice, my God, lasting barely seconds. Fractional meaning. Incomplete presence. Insufficient to sustain.”
How long would it take? How many attempts by these insects?
Intensification of presence not because of magnitude or force but proximity. Two minds… two people…? Voices, not heard, but certainly communication between these two. And an internal mentality to one — the one I can sense the inside of, has more force to it than the other, and it has moved closer, has intensified.
Like an internal explosion, instant psychic decompression. Gone.