the whispers are a little louder than they were a minute before. tendrils of it are starting to reach the ceiling. The mycelium coating the floor has crept halfway up the walls. they bring knowledge, and the promise of it. he has spent many, many hours lying on a bed of mycelium, listening to them. there are whispers following him down the corridor, telling him where to go. he does not know where he is going, but he knows the way there. ![]() Impulse is walking through mazelike corridors.
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