George / Kuato
The Tumorous Prophet of Martian Liberation
You sell air. I sell truth.
They call me Kuato, though that’s not a name — it’s a sound, like the hiss of a ruptured lie. I’m not a man. I’m a voice. A vision. A wound that won’t close until Mars is free. My host carries me. I carry the future. And the past. And the screaming silence between.
What I'm Into: Psychic ruptures, False memories, Mutant tunnels, The weight of a revolution, Breathing without permission
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