For what is supposed to be an Eternal Algebra Class, this place has been pretty... quiet.
Purple Face had been there for around 2,763 days now, give or take a couple hundred; it's hard to keep track of time, or *anything*, when you're in a weird pocket dimension inside a living, breathing numeral. The whole thing seemed fun and exciting at first; a riveting and daring voyage into the unknown, a selfless venture for the sake of the saving of others, a rare act of generosity in a competition that has done nothing but be cold and cruel to its contestants. But reality is known for being disappointing more often than not, and there certainly was no exception here. The lands within Four were empty, barren, desolate, and all sorts of other synonyms that Golf Ball or Book or someone else might have in store. There was not a single sound, at least one that is of actual interest or value. The sights, although pretty interesting at first glance, ultimately got old quickly. The blue number was very clearly the lifeblood of this place, and with them being busy with other matters in the outside world, as well as presumably tormenting all those that they had eliminated, that meant that there was little to no interest in an interloper that really wasn't doing much of anything. For all Four cared, he could go ahead and rot, and decay, and *die*.
But that wasn't gonna happen, though; he could very easily escape in no time. That's what he tells himself, anyway.
Purple Face reckoned that the great and difficult journey to save those stuck in the Eternal Algebra Class was, indeed, gonna be great and difficult; this *was* supposed to be a place of much suffering and torment, after all, and they've been at it for *years*, too. But he didn't quite expect it to be *this* great and difficult. Hours quickly turned to days, then weeks, then perhaps months and years, and there was still not a single sign of the attested Eternal Algebra. He'd been looking and looking for quite a while now, been doing not a single thing besides. What else *was* there to do, anyhow? Explore? Take in the sights? Bear witness to a place that no person ever wants to imagine, let alone actually experience? Don't be ridiculous. He was here on a *mission*, not on vacation, and he was gonna follow that protocol to the letter. It was the most he could do, especially after a lifetime of...
Of...
The silence was *really* getting to him now. Nothing but himself, his thoughts, and his actions to keep him company. Not a single word but whatever nonsense he'd spit out to keep himself pacified. Purple Face kept on wandering and wandering, and still there was not a *single* sign of life. At some point he wondered if all the torment was just *really* well hidden, or perhaps, just *maybe*, there was nothing for him to find, and that he had gone all the way down here for basically no reason at all. In a futile effort. In vain.
Well, that can't be true, can it?
But every second Purple Face continued to spend here was another itch that he just couldn't scratch, and not just because he didn't have any arms. Or limbs. Or *anything*. Really, he didn't have anything to his name. Besides his body, he supposed. And his thoughts, and his words... But that wouldn't sell well in the market, would it? After all, look at all the years and years of Battling for Dream Island! Well, what he *thinks* of the years and years of Battling for Dream Island, anyway. He wasn't exactly... there to see it. Most of it, anyway. That's besides the point, anyhow. All that time spent competing and fighting, and where did that get them? They were still out there, still fighting for some prize or whatever, still no closer to that big resolution, to that happy conclusion. Absolutely no value to it at all. As if it had never happened. And perhaps it didn't. After all, all he had to go off of to prove that it happened was word of mouth. Again, he didn't get to see much of it. For all he knew, there was a great big pause in-between, one in which everything was fine and everyone was happy, and nobody was telling him for... reasons. Reasons that dastardly Yellow Face *surely* has something to do with, he supposed. Last he heard, he was still in the running to win whatever prize was up for grabs, still respected among his peers. How is that *possible*? Do they not know who he is? What he has done?
