Demetrie

Archive Lore

Demetrie was never meant to see this much.

At first, it was a gift—or so they told him. Enhanced perception. Expanded awareness. The ability to observe the world in ways others couldn’t. Details sharpened. Movement slowed. Truth revealed in layers.

But they didn’t tell him the cost.

Because perception doesn’t stop where you want it to.

It keeps going.

Soon, Demetrie began to notice things that didn’t belong—shifts in space, distortions in people, moments that repeated slightly differently each time he focused on them. The world stopped feeling solid… and started feeling constructed.

And then his vision expanded again.

Not outward—
but inward.

He began to see himself the same way.

Every flaw. Every fracture. Every weakness laid bare, impossible to ignore. The mind wasn’t built to process that kind of clarity, and slowly… it began to break.

His body followed.

Limbs thinned. Movement slowed. Expression faded into something fixed and uncertain. The eyes—those oversized, unnatural lenses—never stopped taking in more, even as his ability to act diminished.

Now he remains where he was left.

Watching.

Always watching.

The wires that suspend him were never meant to restrain him—they’re the only thing keeping him upright, holding together what little structure remains.

Because without them…
he would collapse completely.

Not from damage—
but from knowing too much.

And if you stand in front of him long enough, you’ll feel it—

That creeping sensation that you’re being understood on a level you never intended…

By something that can no longer save itself.