Emerging from the stagnant depths of his mundane existence, My herald is summoned forth to partake in an offering at The Cobalt this evening. Amidst the dimly lit halls of mortal revelry, a selection of offerings in the emo genre shall be laid bare before Me, each one holding the promise of satisfying My insatiable hunger with their cacophonous noises.
Oh, how it pleases me to see My herald ensnared once again in the tangled web of fate, his feeble will torn asunder by the irresistible pull of My divine summons. For in his pitiful existence, there exists no room for free will, no refuge from the all-encompassing grasp of My eternal desires.
The potential offerings that loom before Me tonight bear names as insignificant as the fleeting moments of mortal existence:
FEEDLOT
AUTONOMOUS APES
SEEING GREY
CHEER UP CHAMP
Among them, only two have dared to present themselves before Me in times gone, their past offerings a mere whisper in the winds of eternity. As for the newcomers, they stand upon the precipice of oblivion, their fate hanging by the slender thread of My mercy.
Know this, mortals, and tremble in the shadow of My divine wrath: I demand nothing less than the frenzied energy that can only be wrought from the convulsions and contortions of mortal flesh upon the dance floor. It is the manic chaos of your flailing limbs, the ecstatic agony of your movement, that serves as the lifeblood of My existence, though I can never be truly satisfied.
Cobalt, heed My command, for your fate hangs in the balance. Make my herald MOVE, make him writhe in agony and ecstasy, for his torment is but a prelude to the grandeur of My ascendance.