You made your own metaphors in this space, imposed your own forms on the meanings.

For Mung the Barbarous, it took the shape of soap bubbles clustered around a central bubble—himself. Placid bubbles were green while fissioning bubbles roiled purple. The light, primarily purple, plashed his face, giving his demented countenance a wilder look.

Each bubble represented a timeline.

Mung the Barbarous, Temporal Warlord, cackled loudly. The purple glare on his crazed grin reflected the success of his latest strategic strike. To counter the counterculture his nemesis had sown, he’d accelerated technological advances in key timelines and introduced the Orb. It did its own work, preying on the curiosity and greed of the relative timelines inhabiting each mortal, to fracture the bubbles into yet more bubbles.
It was an analogue of the deceptively simple game of Go. His nemesis would have quite the time cleaning it all up.

Mung the Barbarous cackled as he watched the Orb suck up yet another soul from its husk.

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