I'm a mouth that doesn't smile -- Zuclopenthixol

[zuclopenthixol]

YOU WANT TO SUCCEED YOU HAVE TO TRY. OR ONE DAY YOU'LL GET OLDER AND REGRET IT ALL CAUSE YOU CAN'T PROVIDE.
YOUR FRIENDS ARE LOW-LIVES DON'T ACT SURPRISED. LOOK, JUST CUT THE BAD FRUIT OFF OF THE TREE, MAKE THE SACRIFICE.

Generations had passed.

Life in the afterlife had been calm and peaceful, but without a doubt... Oh let's just get out and say it. Life down here was fucking boring. All anyone did was stand around and talk.

Wake up. yap yap yap. Sleep.
Wake up. Yap yap yap. Sleep.
Wake up. Yap yap yap. Sleep.

There was only so much talking a man could take before he went crazy.

The afterlife was a joke almost. There was nothing to do but watch the world of the living as though it were some sort of reality tv show. And like binge-watching some show like the kardashians, shit became boring as hell pretty damn fast. I mean come on. Ya'll need to spice some things up for those of us down here in the afterlife. Come up with a new show. Add a ton of drama. We need it, okay?

Oh, well, then again. Looks like you're all doing just that.

His name broke through the silence and the once Gate's king was pulled out of the dreamlike state he had been in the last fifty or so years. Soon after he feels his soul being tugged towards the surface, the tendrils of eight's magic slipping him back into the body he once knew all too well. Muscles and tendons flow together, layers of skin and hair moving into place, the wings of bone following soon after. Suddenly the old king gasps, eyes flying open and catching sight of the magician that had quite literally called him from the grave.

"Eight."

He's not sure how he knows his name, but he does and he chooses not to question it.

"Does your calling me have anything to do with the chaos up above?"

He knows it is. But he asks anyway as old habits die hard. The spirits of the afterlife had been excitedly chattering about the start of a new war since morning and Zuclopenthixol had heard enough about what was going on up above to know there had to be a good enough reason for the magician everyone knew so well to be calling him.

ZUCLOPENTHIXOL.