(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

"You do that."
I circumvented the trap with the correct amount of twists, positive that I'd
nearly unlocked the dodecahedron. Now for the final facet positions. The
click of the plates sounded another memory, and as I locked the twelfth
pentagon into place, I knew of the sorcerous runes hidden within the
dodecahedron that would blast the unwitting holder with bolts of magical
lightning. After disarming the trap with the correct number of facet
rotations, the dodecahedron clicked and began to open in my hands...
Gently like the petals of a flower, the dodecahedron unfolded, splitting
once, twice, and eventually opened itself impossibly into a perfectly
rectangular tablet the size of a large book. Etched into its surface were a
series of bizarre symbols. It looked to be a code or language, and a sense
that it should've been familiar pricked at my scalp... but it wasn't. I rolled it
in my hands, turning it this way and that and found that, by twisting the
pentagonal facets that were upon the underside of the tablet, different
'pages' could be displayed across the tablet's face. It was all too clear, then...
that this was a tome or journal of some sort.
"Hmm... until I learn to read this language, I might as well just put it away."
~~~~~
Sensates had a reputation for being fickle, with attentions that ended with
one experience and began with the next.
Sometimes I tread down to the sensoriums, drawn along this way or that by
alluring scents. Behind me haunting snatches of music flit down the
corridors, each tune brushing feather-light against old memories. I place my
hand along one wall and feel its texture shift and boil beneath my fingertips
as I walk. The air tastes sweet one moment, then bitter as regret the next.
Sculptures and paintings line the hall, each dazzling, grotesque, sublime.
The wayward path often leads me back to one place, though.
Deionarra's sensory stone.
I could just visit her, of course. I'd just talk my way past the Dustmen, or
even sneak in. Meet with her again to comfort her fragile spirit. She'd paw
800