He gently pressed Brutha against the turtle, and kissed him. Vorbis led him to the turtle after the boy unloaded a large mass of small talk onto the Prophet. He looked as fine as someone could look after a week of being unconscious. The encounter flew by in a second, and Vorbis only registered appointing Brutha as an Arch-bishop and Nhumrod as a Sub-deacon. "Ah, my desert companion." He heard himself say as Brutha approached. When he did, Vorbis was surrounded by quite a lot of higher-ranking personnel that were bothering him with talks about being a Prophet and whatnot. Suppressed Affection had both arms free now, and they were stubbornly waving to the blind block of ice commanding the place. It took maybe three days to finally get out of the madness and the sand. Vorbis leaned down and planted a kiss on Brutha's forehead. Suppressed Affection lifted up one bright pink hand in protest. So he sat up, looked around, and picked up a stone. The tortoise was rustling through the bushes, the Eagle was circling above, and they were almost at the Citadel. Calculation, Cold, and Hate picked it up and promptly shoved it into the trash can, along with Pity, Happiness, and Peace. Suppressed Affection traipsed in, leaving pink muddy footprints all over the clear obsidian floor of Vorbis' mind. Everyone was mad when it came to the desert. He heard Brutha arguing with someone, the tortoise maybe, convincing the tiny creature that Vorbis shouldn't die. There was nothing else to do, but his mind was working, through the heat and the dehydration. Vorbis followed Brutha through the desert.
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