Allora was a born philosophist, an antiestablishmentalistic maieutic savant. No stranger to the cipheric folio, she conducted whole symphonies of quantitative and diagrammatic assonance by the time she turned 6 years old. A matriarch of the esoteric canon, she catechized her first jeremiad when she had not yet reached puberty. To her then consternation, the ears of the laity bled until the city’s fjord flooded, asphyxiating them in a ghyll of gore. Allorians still refer to this occurrence as ‘the Day of the Sacerdotal Claret’.
Seeking a palliative kedge, Allora self ostracized to the rayless profundity found at the bottom of the obfuscous subterrane in Fjall. Isochronally, her faction amassed, spigot eared, hearts dehiscent, blithely awaiting a litany. But she had struck self covenant, of oral celibacy, parsimoniously petting Olber’s Paradox in the reticent amity of the anagogic vacuum.
Yet she saw things. Obsequious algebraic proselytism, muculent seditious morphemes, susurrant heretical prolegomenon. A chiromancy for every single one of them. This Jnana jinx, sonorously self anathematizing, neotheistic, extirpating.