Because even thoughts need a place to rest.
Just Typed
What?! I actually have time to write again?!
The colors of .GREP’s scream were a splash of beauty across his vision.
.SORT had been impressed by .CAI’s display of power; he had gotten the idea that she wasn’t a fighter, but evidently that had not been a correct guess. More than this, he had been impressed by how fantastic it was to watch another Ghost in action. He had never imagined it could be this way. He had thought that every Ghost would affect the Planes in much the same way he did, with the same patterns and the same artist’s brush, and now he was discovering how wonderful being wrong could be. He saw every detail of .CAI’s manipulation of her energy shield, the way she sent her thoughts through it, tightening it here and there, turning it into a net piece by piece. It was a careful movement, calculated; and yet it only took the span of a few seconds to come together. He felt nothing for the Wraiths which she caught in her trap. None of the vibrancy of life flowed in them. They were made up of dead, black matter, lacking all of the vibrancy of .CAI’s brilliant shift of blue static. He thought he could see images in that swirl of tints. Their high pitched whistles were just that: sounds displeasing to the ear. .GREP’s scream was a living object that went shifting like a frightened snake down into the darkness of the tunnels. .SORT watched it go with fascination, and saw with equal fascination the sonic path of .GREP’s bullet as it flared past him, the man’s aim knocked off course by the //RAT which now gripped his leg in its fangs. .SORT almost casually decided to try and do his own part to stop this attack. He turned toward their enemy, and pointed his arm toward the creature; his energy flared a brighter green as he projected his will toward it. Then he spoke his order, trying to impose his command on the creature: “Sleep.”
