C-TLD05 (Mar 18, 2020)
Puzzle
“What she has.”
See: CD-TLD04 | 4 Words
Clue
Hover over the clues if you require!
Clue 1: What makes 512 so special?
Clue 2: The exact demon who's blood she has.
Clue 3: Who lives in the Spire? What's its full name?
Answer and Explanation
Answer: The Blood Of Asmodeus
Explanation: 512 has blood from the Demon Prince of Lust, Asmodeus.
Summary of Receipt
Summary
Transcript
EMPLOYEE NO. 17
DATE: 3-18-2020
FILE REFERENCE: C-TLD05
TOTAL: $0.59
Now that young No. 512 has reawakened, it seems her Asmodian powers are more complex than we originally thought. Without the need explicitly for flesh, this opens up a few exciting new possibilities. Especially considering it would seem she does not require fresh blood either. Manager No. 0 has put me in charge of running a few experiments to uncover the limitations of her ability to sense the emotions of others via blood. As such, I gave her three anonymous samples from fellow employees and one sample of Mrs. Ogeron's blood procured a few days ago.
CAFE BLOOD SAMPLE 1
A quiet room overcast with overwhelming darkness. A sickly-sweet scent, something herbal, fills the air. A table in the center with a large dusty book opened mid-way. The exposed pages are covered in dust, wax, blood, and ink. There is a drawing of a figure, although its features are obscured by inkblots. A radio somewhere in the dark plays static, occasionally shifting to a station where a few words at a time can be heard. When I go to touch the book, it isn't there. All that's left is the void. If I turn around, I can see an overcast field, but when I look up in the sky, there's just one massive indigo eye looking back at me. It won't blink, but I still expect it to. I'm back in the room when I look down, although now it is lit dimly by lavender candles. Soft music plays from the radio, but a static pulse is heard every few beats. Then, slowly, the static seeps from the radio and fills the room. Then, all I see is white, which fades into a ringing noise. And slowly, the lights fade back into darkness. I'm afraid I'll lose her again, but I haven't lost her yet.
CAFE BLOOD SAMPLE 2
There are bright, warm lights and loud celebrations echoing through the streets. The smell of warm, fresh pastries wafting from nearby cafes mixed with the smell of firecrackers and dangerous darkness. Outside the streets' safety lurks dark and horrible things that try to claw their way past the brightness. But then I reach out and shake their hands. Their grasp is warm and welcoming, then… nothing. Complete emptiness. Silence. Until the smell of pastries and coffee slowly wafts back in, and the sounds of parades and festivals are replaced by a jukebox that plays songs in a language that doesn't exist. It sings softly, and with each new record, the lights flicker brighter. When I looked down at my hands, they were the same ones that pulled me in. The same hands that claw away at the light. I'm scared that one day, my hands will snuff out all the light that's still left.
CAFE BLOOD SAMPLE 3
The music is loud, and the room is blanketed in cheap perfume. Stray light wanders in from beneath my blinds. It's hot, hotter than any other room in the house. Fairy lights are tacked to the drywall, and makeup is scattered around in the air and on my desk. Everything is lace, latex, and fishnets. Slowly, the temperature rises one degree at a time until it's too hot for comfort. Then the window shatters, and a rush of cold air sweeps in. A hand invites me outside. I pull the hand in. The temperature is now pleasant, but it soon becomes too pleasant. I can't feel the air anymore. I can't feel anything anymore. It's all just empty. Then I see a window and in my hand is a rock. I know that I need to break the window to let in the air, but I see myself when I look inside. The rock gets heavy in my hand, and soon I can't lift it. Then I watch as the window on the other side of my room is broken. And two hands invite me out. The rock I was holding became too heavy, and it dragged me down. Far down. Farther down than anything has ever gone. Perhaps this is where I belong? The outside is too cold for me.
MRS. OGERON BLOOD SAMPLE
The dark thrashing waves of the Black Tide swirl and hiss, screaming for release from their eternal prison. Darkness. A wave crashes against the rocks, and it is free. But, if the sun were to reach the freed wave, it would surely evaporate. Cursed to return to the cold ocean. So, the freed wave hides deep below the surface where the sun can never see them. The sun doesn't want the waves to be free. The moon knows this, and the moon takes care of the waves. The moon keeps the wave safe so long as it promises to stay out of the sun's sight. But then, another comes along—a fire. The fire hates the sun and beckons the wave to the surface. The fire will protect the wave from the sun. What choice does the wave have? Be scorched by the sun? Or burnt by the flame? The moon says it will protect the wave, but the wave can't trust what it can no longer see. The wave can see the moon from the surface. The surface is calling.
Interesting results. For privacy reasons, I won't disclose whose blood was whose, but all three have said that what 512 has written is shockingly close to feelings they have, had, or can't explain. My guess would be if we could ethically give her a piece of their flesh as well, it could link those feelings to memories, but, for obvious reasons, that is out of the realm of possibilities. Well… we could get a piece of the Finfolk. But, after our last visit, I'm sure they won't want to see us again. Much less to lop off one of their limbs. In any case, there is a "wave," a "sun," a "moon," and a "fire." The wave must be the Finfolk. The sun could be… the Bird. Yes, in fact, I believe it must be. The moon… now that is tricky. Could it be Leviathan? Or perhaps it could be the myth, Poseidon. Or the fury Megaera. It could even be the Sunkenman. Although… I think the Sunkenman is the fire. That or… Satan? I will continue to ponder this, and I'll let you know if I, or No. 512, make any new breakthroughs.