Stop.

"Have no need for descriptions I tell you, my time boundless; but yours, the other." Here I speak to both of you, the old man on his knees before me, the many watching from afar. When the Crawlers come, surely your mouth will hold no tongue. "I'm sorry, Grey." The old man speaks a name I deem useless, and so we will turn it grey. "I have the love of a woman, her love means everything to me, which is why I've ventured so deep beneath the dirt." He says. "Her love I have not gifted; yet, the sands of time I have flipped for a moment. We have given you what you want, our dyad formed; your everything owed." My words, shards of obsidian upon bedrock, all we have seen and more.

"Thank you, my Lord. But I must plead, must I truly give you everything?" He professes.

"You stand before me, withered and old. I have given you everything, have I not?"

"Grey." I deemed your words useless.

"You have lived the life you wished for, have you not?"

"Grey." I deemed your words useless.

You promised your everything, did you not?

"Grey." I deemed your words useless.

"So your everything is mine, I gave you a moment, a moment I am owed."

"Grey." He begged. I deemed your words useless.