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[Xantalos]

It's likely this place has some sort of guiding intelligence that could be considered the god or gods of it which cause it.

[Empiricist]

"What brings you to that proposition?"

[Xantalos]

I'm here, and I can't figure out why. If they could confound me of all people then they deserve to be called gods.

[Empiricist]

"A fair point. In that case, what benefit does abducting us provide them with?"

[Xantalos]

Entertainment, most likely.

The cat yowls.

ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!

[Empiricist]

"Tch. Evidently not. The slowdown and dependencies upon material injection are a regrettable flaw, one which is having its solution's composition tentatively constructed.

A capriccio of life.

A threnody of death.

Either is fine.

Stagnation is not - therefore, the bloodshed and vaudeville shall linger... Allow me to pose a question to you both, if each individual's world is of such jarring contrast to your own that it consumes your attention, then why do the people you are not acquainted with remain veiled in ambiguity? Why do others whose worlds would surely be quite peculiar be ignored?

Investigate all you want, perhaps those recent victims may be a suitable starting point, as I can assure you, they existed merely to die. That was their purpose, their raison d'être and neither their world nor their individuality will be defined. Such matters are always provided in retrospect.

Do heed this however, the Omphalos Hypothesis applies to all differently and devises whether one is an actor, or a mere embellishment."

[Xantalos]

...try as I might, I can't understand the implications of what was just said. Why are those who I do not pay attention to not revealed? Surely it is because I do not care for them...
The cat trails off, looking uncertain.
What were we discussing?

[Empiricist]

The observer smiles in an undefined manner before undefined and undefined, with a corpse of the prior day's victims in tow. "She" holds it before Trickster. It was bloodstained and missing its head, yet curiously, the other features were undefined. It, presumably had a dress sense and a gender. Yet that was not discernible for an undefined reason.
"Who is this? Who were they? Were they young or old? What world did they come from? As you can see, that is not present. Such is the nature of an embellishment."

[Xantalos]

Trickster stares at the corpse.
It was - was was wa- I know these things. It was a...it was it was it wasathingitwaswaswaswaswaswas-

He freezes in place all of a sudden, eyes fixed directly on the corpse. A low humming starts buzzing from around his spine.

[Empiricist]

"A reaction. Not expected. Nevertheless a satisfactory change. Though I do must warn, my puppeteer vanishes for this cycle when this hour ends."

[Xantalos]

A̜̻͍̼̠ ͙͎̭̟͎̬͌ͩ͊͂ͬ̉ͫͅw̠̯̤̬̙̤͆̐̈́ͦ̏́͂a̳̬̤͓̭͗r̫ň̘̯̘ͪͩ̇͌ḭͨn̘̘̞̑̂ͤͥ̍͛g͕̔̑,̫͕ͧ ̗̯͇̟́ͨͅa̻̰͈ͣ̎v̝̻̰͚̥͍̇ä͉̩̩͍͋́̍̎͌̚ṫ̞̹̉̈́a̮̓̈̏̌͗̓r̭ ̟̜͎̯̭ͩͯỏ̪̭͙̫̙͍̿͆̇͐f̄ ̟͇̳̭̉t̳̫̱̘̱̞̱̒̑ͯ̐͗h̳̿̿̅̉̚ẽ̮̳͈̓ͅ ͋̔̓ͫͣ̽o̹͈̲̻̣͈̤̊̆ͮt̍̓̽h̜̣́̓͑͌̊eͬ̏ͣ̓r̭̦.̅̇͛̎ͯ ̱̜̺͙̤͚͕͑ͦ̎̂͋ͭM̟̦̪̜̙̹̎i͙͙̫̯͉ͩͅn̜͙͇̟͔̭̮̎̉͒ͥ̄͋e͇̦̠̤̭͎̎ͦͩͦ̑̃̔ ̝͕̭̺̹̳͐̂͋̑̾ō̬̼̍ͣͮ̔w̟̳̠̟͎̳ͅn̥̯̱ ̱̮̠͈͖̤͒͒̈̿ͅh͓͚̥̦̥̺ͪ̌ͧa̪̞̭̣̝ͦ̀ͅs̗̫̼̲͐̈̌ͣ̊̌̅ ͒̽͑b̠̽̈̃ͫi̘̗̍̿̍̄̎̅d́̑ͨͭ̂ͦͅ ͍͕̟ͣ̊̆mͦ͆ͣ̌̒e͓̖̝ͬ͗̂ͯ ͙̥̰͛ͥ͂̽͗k̦̪̳̼̺̒̐̎e͉͇̦̥̔͑ͮ͊ͬe̾̓ͭͣp͍̾̎̆ ̪̝̰̋̀͋̌̇th̩̜̬̩̤̩ͦ̈́ͦỉ̤͇̂s̳͚̊͆̎̍̈ͫ̽ ͙̬̯̲͕̭̎ͩ̉̎̉o̺̍͆̔n̠ͣ̓ͨ̑̔e̹̭̜͕͕̝̠̎̑ͪͪ ̞̦͍͇̆̍̔ͦv̥̼̳̫ī͕̤̫̞͚̈́̾͌̐r͕ͯͬ̍ͫ͐̇g̺ͣ̓̎̎̑i̩̟n̠͈̺̖̒̐a̘̓ͥͭ͊ͯ̓ͫl͍̤̘̭̉́̋ ̳͉͉͚͊̑́̔̎̈́ōͨ̃͊ͅf̲͓̺̮̑ͪ̊͆̏ ̞͇̥̪̐ͧ̅̈͐ͧt͚̜̞͚̝ͬ̓ḧ́͂ͩe̼̰͓͇ͥ̌ͭ̈͗ c͇̱̆̆ͦ̏ͫ͌o̝̞̦̟͇͕͗ͩ͗ͭ͐ͤͫn̝̐ͯs̮̩̆͋ͨ̿t̖̉ͯ̌r̼̹̱̙̩̲͂̃͒a͉͚̘̹̗̞̮ͮ̿͆ͧi̝͇̗̱͛̒͛ͩ̆ͩṇ̥̹̟̍͌ͪͤ̒ͅt̺̱̠̳̞̜̖͐š͈̺̩̉̑̿͗ͮͯ ̠͔̫͈̬̰̻̿̊ͫ̈́͌̚o̤̫̪̬̙͔̽f̻͚̻̒͋͋ͤ́ ̣͔̇̐̒ͦ̐͋͒f̓͌̐î̮͕̲̮͇̬ͯͫc̗̼̲͉̜t͇̮̠͓̲̻̐̒ͪ̎ͥi̠̜̯̦͍̮̪͂̿̊o̠̭̬̔̀͛̒̿n̳̮͈̦̺̹̻̎̈̿͐̐̊ͪ,̟̻̹̗̩̹̎́͋̉́̾ ͍͍̀̃ͧ̐͆̈́ͮf̲͓̭͕̟̙̰͋ͫo̫̰̙͓ͯͅȑ̜͇̭̺͕ͦ̒̽͊̚ ͦ́ͩ̐w͔̦ͬͨ͐̿̊̽̄h̳ȃ̰͖̹͉̖t̺̺̓͊̀ r̗̹͉͂ͧ̑e͎̳̯͓̹̳̊̓a̼̮ͪs͈̜̤̖͓͌̊͋ͅọ̱̪̮̩́ͬ́̈͂̓̓ͅn͓͍͆̑̋̊̇̆ ̥̘̭ͯͪ̅̏I͌̆̚ ͉̻͔̥̄̏͐̉̐̊k͉̫̟̿ͮ͊̅̋̑̍ñ̺̫͓̭̗̻̮ö̭̯̳̬̫́w̹̟̯̘̽̊͋ͯ ̬͕̬͎͈n̪̏̋̌̚ŏ̯͆͌̔t̜̪̞͈͖̰͂.̗̤͎̟͔͑ͮ͊̍͌ͥ ̬̬͍̞͕̽̆̇̾I̳̹̿̓ͭͭͦ͒ͣ ͋͊͆t͉̙̯͕͎͈̠r͍ͩ̌̇̐ͫͫụ̊s̜̟͇t͓̙ͩ̆̔ ̮̘͇̀ͪ̿̒ͭͅn̲̝̤ͧͧ͐̏̎͂̀ö͎̰́̔̊ͮͭͬ̓t̰̬͍̄͋ͥ͆̑ ̘̲̫̮̹t͖̦̼̥̬͇͉̏̃̌̌̐ͪ͂h̼̮̰̩̾̽͛ī̹̹̓̇͑s̭̠̪͕̳̗̑ͦ̍ o̦͆ͨ̅ń̲͚̤̙̥̤͑̿e̹̖͕͚͈̬̦ͤ,̱̗ͥ̓͌ ̯̳̀h̒ͥo̱̭͔̰̖̩̞͌͊̿̃̑͊̈́we͎̹̝̘̭͍͖ͮ̚v̲ͫ͌̇͂e͎͎̺ͨr͇͆ͤ, ̠̤̊͛̇ͫ̄a̤̘̱͋͗̽ͦ͆̉ͬṇ͙͛d͕̟̤͖̱͚̓ ̟̱̽̌̓͛̏h̩́ͩa͔̹̩̼̮̻v͔͉̞ͬe̦͖͈̭ͪ̅̀ͨ ͨ̌̑̔͛͑p̠̦̬͌ͣ͗̌̊̍̓l̥̟̳̭͓̔̓ͯ͑̑̊aͯc͕̐̂̑͆e̱͕͍̥̯ͩ̏̇͋͐ͭd̯̳̲̫̜̊ͩ ̝̰͙̬͙ͯ̈͛͆̂͒͌b̥̬̣̣̮ͦl̘͉̝͎̽o̙̯͓͒͆c̤̖̝ͨͧ͌̐ͣk͔͉̫̣̟͕̬͆̃̈́̑̔s͓̣̙̒̍̉ ͉͖̐̓͋u̙͍̼͖͋ͩṕọ̩̯͔̮̱̰n͇͂͆̍ ͖̲̚ḧ̀ͨ̆͐̌i͖ͣ͑ͦ͒ͦ͒s͚͖͓̻̍̐͑͆̎͆ ̩̻̈́m̱ͧͨi̬̙̭ͦͨn͓̙̎̓͊d̫̫͒ͧ̌͐̐̅.̣̞̖͕̠ͫ̈ ̱̺̿͑Hͩ͐̄͑e͈̠̲͈̹̩̾͌ͫ̈ͅ.̫̻̟̥̹̈́͒͒̇ ̦͚̣̭̣͍̆͋ͧ̃ͫ͆U͙̦͓̅͋͛ș̣̭͎ͭ̿̈ͣͅe̖̪̜͌ͩ ̣̻̣̺͖̀ͅǹ͕̥̗̰̥͍́̾oͦ̅̆t̃ͮ́ͦ̊ͫ̚ ̝͍͂ͦ̉̅r̤̫̻ͦe͎̗͉̽̎ͣ̓̚a̜̖͇͓̥̞̔̎̂͑l̩̫̑ͬ̽̎ͣ͗ī̭̈̆ͬ̀̚z͕͙͖͙͙̜̻ͥͬ̀ͫe̺͉͙̱̩̳̓͂ ̹͇͉̪̦̦̬̽w̠͖̑̈͑h̞̰̦͖̖̠̾ͩ̎ͤ̔̚a̪̗͎̎͑t̯͈̞̼̟̞͖͊͌̾ͬ̑ ̼͎͕̘̺ͬ̎͗h̪ͨ́e͈̯̼̞̬̟ͮͨ̽̓ ̣̤i̒ṡ̘̪͕͔̝̳͙̓ͥ̽̌.̼̳͗̋ͥ̊̑ ͍͔͓̿͒


Trickster unfreezes when this interface ends.
Everyone here seems curiously unresponsive.

[Empiricist]

"Understood..." The observer turns to face the Trickster. "Or more accurately, you were spacing out. You already asked that question a few minutes prior."

[Xantalos]

I don't have any recollection of it. Who are you, anyhow?

[Empiricist]

"The Observer. I observe."

[Xantalos]

Sounds boring at a glance, but then again I'm called the Trickster and that doesn't sound particularly interesting either.
Observe what, though?