TT: We were all designated for a session that was utterly inert.
TT: A place where the mechanisms for success never even existed to begin with.
TT: In such a place it makes sense that the formal leader would be neutralized, to made feel unempowered and static.
TT: And it seems particularly fitting she would be the noble of life in a realm of the dead.
TT: A realm that foretold of a life player who felt lifeless, a hope player who felt hopeless, and a heart player who was just a stone cold motherfucker.
TT: When we talked about leadership, and I was all on my high horse telling you how shit would go down...
TT: I also said I would be the one "pulling the strings." Remember? That I'd be the functional leader of our party.
TT: And there might have been something to that, in a different session.
TT: But what good is a "man of action" in a place where action itself is intrinsically fruitless?
TT: So it's occurred to me that by some tragic flaw in its design, our session was meant to be leaderless.
TT: And I'd feel safe concluding that. Except for a feeling that's been gnawing at me.