"(Anon, Dazzlings) Akashic Traffic"
By Ditherer (https://pastebin.com/u/Ditherer)

URL: https://pastebin.com/Cp1MhwnD
Created on: Thursday 7th of July 2016 04:31:36 PM CDT
Retrieved on: Saturday 31 of October 2020 12:30:20 PM UTC


>Be Anon.
>The circle is complete, the implements either spent and discarded on the far end of the room.
>You remove all thoughts of the world and enter a state of gnosis, eyes closed.
>You practiced this shit all the time when you were planning out a tulpa.
>Not that it helped you make things that didn’t scream their heads off. 
>Anyway, you relax and let all intentions fall from your mind, picturing only the sigil.
>It’s a set of lazy angles and curves that used to be three cutie marks stuck randomly together.
>It’s hard to picture all at once, but that’s part of what makes it so powerful.
>Then you shout with your eyes closed, like you’re asking the gods to strike you down.
"ZODONURENUSAGI OL AR OL NOALN INSI AAO A PIRE CASARMA OECRIMI A A ZLIDA"
>You can’t into Enochian, but it’s good enough.
>You start chanting it, and your body feels lighter.
>Brighter.
>You feel your soul being called outward, invited to project, but you’re not fucking with that.
>Your whole body’s coming along for the ride.
>Skin tingles and nerves pucker as you feel a new basic form of reality wash over you.
>When you’re sure nothing more is coming, you return to your sensorium and open your eyes.
>The frenzy of noise only comes when you start seeing things.
>You guess all your senses are better-connected here.
>Or something.
>To be honest, it’s hard to think at all in this place.
>It’s not a room, but the space seems to trail off and end in wispy void after a while.
>On the far side is a portal, small enough you’d have to duck your head to enter, crackling with blue-white energy as it spins and hums to itself.
>Everything between here and there is choked with people. 
>New ones appear every few seconds, jamming against each other, bumping shoulder and pressing knees into faces.
>No one can actually get into the portal. 
>Everyone’s chattering, maybe praying or saying some kind of incantation.
>Some of it sounds like what you said, but for others it’s completely foreign. 
>It’s only when one materializes next to you that you get a good look and realize they’re all you.
"Are you trying to get to the Dazzlings?"
>You shout over the cacophony.
>”Yes!”
>Everyone in earshot responds.
Fucking occultism.
...
>Be Aria.
>Sonata’s going on about some stupid shit again and she’s in the way of the TV.
>She’s holding a little plastic heart full of rocks from a Renaissance fair.
>You would’ve thought the Renaissance was bad enough the first time around.
>”No, listen, the lady at the stand told me it really works! If people are adoring you when you activate it, it’ll give you some of their mojo!”
>She’s been like this for two days, after your nose started itching all the time.
>Because god forbid it couldn’t just be an itch.
>No, apparently it was a sign that people were ~thinking of you~.
>She did the same thing with Adagio, since pendant clasp kept sliding to the front.
>”All we have to do is concentrate on it and--”
>She turns her head and sneezes, rapid-fire and exactly twice, for the four-hundredth time today.
>”--it’ll help us get some of our power back!”
>You sigh and make a shooing motion. 
”Go ahead, then.”
>She nods, once, holds the abomination in front of her and squints her eyes shut.
>The eruption of light is more intense than anything you’ve felt in this world.
>So powerful you feel yourself getting swept up inside, and suddenly your magic’s back. 
>The wings and hair return and you have so much extra magic boiling in your veins you still feel like you’re going to explode.
>The couch has been incinerated. 
>You struggle through the miasma of sheer intoxicating power as Sonata starts rising into the air.
>With one good smack, you bat the heart out of her hands and the world goes back to seven colors.
>You pant, and retract your wings a little.
>Oh, wait.
>You still have wings. 
>Sonata smiles at you.
>”Told you so. Let’s go find Adagio!”
”Shut up, Sonata.”