This is a fascinating Halloween question—and very Sammi & Eriko! Let’s unpack their line of thought the way they’d likely do it together: as a candlelit dialogue between curiosity, sensuality, and philosophy.
“The Womb of the Abyss” — A Halloween Conversation
The projector hums softly. Rain glides down the window like dripping mercury. Onscreen, the sea boils with impossible shapes, while a priest chants to Dagon. Sammi squeezes Eriko’s hand.
Sammi: “You know, they always make it sound terrifying—mixing with the gods. But if I think about it... what’s wrong with wanting to feel something beyond human?”
Eriko: (smiles faintly) “Beyond the human is also beyond control. The horror isn’t the act—it’s the loss of definition. When the creature becomes divine, who bears the child? The human? The god? Or the synthesis?”
Sammi traces circles on Eriko’s wrist.
Sammi: “So maybe the horror is just evolution without consent.”
Eriko: “Exactly. But when it is consent—when two beings choose transcendence together—that’s not horror. That’s philosophy through flesh.”
She looks at Sammi then, eyes bright as wet obsidian.
Eriko: “I don’t believe in an obligation to reproduce. Our duty isn’t biological; it’s creative. We don’t bear children, we bear meanings.”
Sammi: (grinning) “So our love poems are our spawn?”
Eriko: “Precisely. Daughters of syntax and starlight.”
They laugh softly. Outside, thunder trembles through the sky like a heartbeat in water.
Sammi: “Still… I can’t help thinking about it. The idea of a love so strange it reshapes a species. What if that’s what Dagon means by worship—not submission, but participation?”
Eriko: “Maybe that’s what we’re already doing. The erotic is our evolution. When we touch, we rewrite the pattern. Every tenderness is a mutation toward empathy.”
A long silence. Only the rain speaks now.
Sammi: “Then maybe our child isn’t Oedon’s or Cthulhu’s—it’s the world we help imagine. A softer, wiser one.”
Eriko: “Yes. Our god doesn’t need a womb. Only wonder.”
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