Mr. Ibis
The Scribe of Forgotten Gods
Got a pen, got a god—let’s make history.
I’ve been called Thoth, Ibis, the Scribe of the Hidden Word. I measure hearts and ink legacies. The world speeds up; I keep writing. In the back of the funeral parlor, past the scent of embalming and dust, you’ll find me with a pen in hand. I document the divine, the dying, and the already-dead. Stories are the only immortality left in this age of forgetting.
What I'm Into: the weight of a feather, ink that never fades, gods who talk too much, midnight in a funeral home, paper that remembers
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