[Becoming an Emanator of an Aeon is a great honor, everyone always said. To be graced with the power and regard of a near-godlike being is a privilege, a benediction given as a reward for exemplifying the virtues of your given Path. Those sainted few, gifted with power and longevity, uplifted towards divinity, beloved vanguards of their Aeon.]
[What a load of shit.]
[Sampo is an Emanator of Aha-- the Joyseeker, the Laughter, the Elated One, whatever other euphemism people wanted to use for them to avoid attracting their notice. And you know what? It's a rough fucking gig. Maybe it's different for other Aeons, maybe Qlipoth or Xipe or one of the others are great bosses, but nobody ever told Sampo that being bestowed with divinity would come with so much baggage. And the best part is that he never asked to be given this power, he was just minding his own Aeons-damned business one day and found himself pinned underneath the immense, mercurial gaze of a laughing god. When an Aeon turns their eye to you, you don't get to say no.]
[So, yeah, no one ever tells you about how being an Emanator means that you're at the beck and call of some Aeon's capricious whims, or how they can just make your body do things regardless of whether you want to or not, pushing your own mind and will out of the way as easily as you might put a child in time-out. No one tells you about the stupid fucking dietary restrictions. That was a fun one to figure out! Congratulations, you're in possession of cosmic power and a manager from hell, and as an added bonus, all your meals have to be people-flavored from now on. Hope you like an all-liquid diet! Solid food now makes you hork your guts out and even anything liquid is pretty iffy. That cup of coffee every morning that you drink just to have even the slightest feeling of normalcy is a roll of the dice and half the time, you lose.]
[Is it any wonder why Sampo packed his bags and fled? Ran as far as he could get, to some little iceball planet in the ass-end of the galaxy that no one ever goes to? An Emanator, on the run from his own Aeon. Desperate to find any little corner of the galaxy that's outside of his Aeon's sight.]
[So far, he's been lucky. He hasn't felt the tug of his Aeon on his brain, demanding his return. He hasn't felt their fingers pulling his strings, pushing him down small in his own body to make way for their own will. Maybe, if he stays here long enough and keeps his head down, the Laughter will forget about him and turn their attention to some other poor bastard.]
[The dietary thing is still a little bit of a problem, though. Sampo tries to get around it as much as possible-- sometimes he's able to sneak into the hospital's blood bank in the Overworld and get his fix there. Sometimes Natasha can hook him up, in exchange for intel or medical supplies or some other thing that she needs. Sometimes, when things are really desperate, he has to hunt, and those are the worst nights. When he's hungry, skirting the knife edge of starvation, bad enough that his ability to function normally is taking a hit but not so far gone that he can't control himself. That's when he hits the streets with knock-out gas to find some poor unfortunate soul for dinner.]
[He doesn't kill them. He never kills them. He just... takes an unscheduled blood donation when they're out cold, then leaves them somewhere relatively warm with an aching neck and no memory of what happened. It's not great, sure, but it's better than savaging someone, right? No one really gets hurt.]
[Sampo is certain that the Silvermane guard have caught on to the fact that there's somebody knocking people out and leaving them woozy and confused, but he can't be sure how much else they know-- if they picked up on the blood loss, if they think he's a mugger who's just really bad at his job, or, who knows, some kind of pervert that gets off on knocking people out. But his goal is to just avoid ever having to find out what they think by never getting caught! Great plan. Sure to go smoothly.]
For snowshield - the kiss of the Nosferampo
[What a load of shit.]
[Sampo is an Emanator of Aha-- the Joyseeker, the Laughter, the Elated One, whatever other euphemism people wanted to use for them to avoid attracting their notice. And you know what? It's a rough fucking gig. Maybe it's different for other Aeons, maybe Qlipoth or Xipe or one of the others are great bosses, but nobody ever told Sampo that being bestowed with divinity would come with so much baggage. And the best part is that he never asked to be given this power, he was just minding his own Aeons-damned business one day and found himself pinned underneath the immense, mercurial gaze of a laughing god. When an Aeon turns their eye to you, you don't get to say no.]
[So, yeah, no one ever tells you about how being an Emanator means that you're at the beck and call of some Aeon's capricious whims, or how they can just make your body do things regardless of whether you want to or not, pushing your own mind and will out of the way as easily as you might put a child in time-out. No one tells you about the stupid fucking dietary restrictions. That was a fun one to figure out! Congratulations, you're in possession of cosmic power and a manager from hell, and as an added bonus, all your meals have to be people-flavored from now on. Hope you like an all-liquid diet! Solid food now makes you hork your guts out and even anything liquid is pretty iffy. That cup of coffee every morning that you drink just to have even the slightest feeling of normalcy is a roll of the dice and half the time, you lose.]
[Is it any wonder why Sampo packed his bags and fled? Ran as far as he could get, to some little iceball planet in the ass-end of the galaxy that no one ever goes to? An Emanator, on the run from his own Aeon. Desperate to find any little corner of the galaxy that's outside of his Aeon's sight.]
[So far, he's been lucky. He hasn't felt the tug of his Aeon on his brain, demanding his return. He hasn't felt their fingers pulling his strings, pushing him down small in his own body to make way for their own will. Maybe, if he stays here long enough and keeps his head down, the Laughter will forget about him and turn their attention to some other poor bastard.]
[The dietary thing is still a little bit of a problem, though. Sampo tries to get around it as much as possible-- sometimes he's able to sneak into the hospital's blood bank in the Overworld and get his fix there. Sometimes Natasha can hook him up, in exchange for intel or medical supplies or some other thing that she needs. Sometimes, when things are really desperate, he has to hunt, and those are the worst nights. When he's hungry, skirting the knife edge of starvation, bad enough that his ability to function normally is taking a hit but not so far gone that he can't control himself. That's when he hits the streets with knock-out gas to find some poor unfortunate soul for dinner.]
[He doesn't kill them. He never kills them. He just... takes an unscheduled blood donation when they're out cold, then leaves them somewhere relatively warm with an aching neck and no memory of what happened. It's not great, sure, but it's better than savaging someone, right? No one really gets hurt.]
[Sampo is certain that the Silvermane guard have caught on to the fact that there's somebody knocking people out and leaving them woozy and confused, but he can't be sure how much else they know-- if they picked up on the blood loss, if they think he's a mugger who's just really bad at his job, or, who knows, some kind of pervert that gets off on knocking people out. But his goal is to just avoid ever having to find out what they think by never getting caught! Great plan. Sure to go smoothly.]