Difference between revisions of "Just a Storm..."
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She felt the subtle changes in barometric pressure as keenly as she would any sense a cloying smell, or sickly sweet taste. Long before the other senses even perceived that a storm was on the horizon. | She felt the subtle changes in barometric pressure as keenly as she would any sense a cloying smell, or sickly sweet taste. Long before the other senses even perceived that a storm was on the horizon. | ||
| − | .oO(Oh there was a time when I thought I was better. I was | + | .oO(Oh there was a time when I thought I was better. I was tasking myself to restore all worlds. That’s an altruistic goal, isn’t it?) |
Dark clouds began to loom in the distance, a promise of what was to come. | Dark clouds began to loom in the distance, a promise of what was to come. | ||
| Line 27: | Line 27: | ||
Tranquility in and of itself, to a child of storms. | Tranquility in and of itself, to a child of storms. | ||
| − | .oO(And when | + | .oO(And when some pieces wouldn’t fit, when they wouldn't bend to be a part of my grand design. I cast them aside.) |
And then the feel of rain. At first little smudges upon clothing, but before long it had become little rivulets running down her skin, while fabric clung unto it. | And then the feel of rain. At first little smudges upon clothing, but before long it had become little rivulets running down her skin, while fabric clung unto it. | ||
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She began to turn in place, like a ballerina, going through her movements. One leg up against the other. Hands upraised. A flash of forked light criss-crossed the sky. | She began to turn in place, like a ballerina, going through her movements. One leg up against the other. Hands upraised. A flash of forked light criss-crossed the sky. | ||
| − | .oO(So I made the | + | .oO(So I made the time piece try to fit them instead. I altered it’s configuration, I tried to jam the piece inside of it, tried to break it.) |
A jumping movement carried her forward. Hands still upraised over her head. The movement itself was more graceful than she was actually capable of. A clap of thunder punctuated her landing. | A jumping movement carried her forward. Hands still upraised over her head. The movement itself was more graceful than she was actually capable of. A clap of thunder punctuated her landing. | ||
| − | .oO(…and when that piece still wouldn’t fit. | + | .oO(…and when that piece still wouldn’t fit. Did I try to alter it? Burn away the 'impurities'? Mold it to fit? I don’t know what was going through my head at the time. Maybe I never will.) |
One leg bent upon landing, while the other splayed out. Back straight, neck lifted upwards to the heavens. | One leg bent upon landing, while the other splayed out. Back straight, neck lifted upwards to the heavens. | ||
| − | .oO( | + | .oO(So in the end it all fell apart. And instead of a magnum opus… what I have now is a pile of twisted debris.) |
| + | |||
| + | Another flash, in which the light was so overwhelming that she was a mere shadow against the backdrop. | ||
.oO(All because of one piece…)<br/> | .oO(All because of one piece…)<br/> | ||
.oO(…that wouldn’t fit.) | .oO(…that wouldn’t fit.) | ||
| − | + | As thunder boomed around her, she hung suspended for a while, as if frozen in position. High above the ground, but still beneath the storm. Salt stung her eyes and other rivulets joined with the dirty rainwater. | |
| + | |||
| + | .oO(And maybe I don’t want to view my life as a clock any longer. Maybe I don’t want to view people as pieces of it anymore...) | ||
| − | . | + | The air was her dance floor. The heavens were the only roof above her head. Fitting for a child of storms. An adopted child of the stars. And the earth far below lapped up her bitter tears as hungrily as it did the rain. |
| − | + | .oO(Just a storm, I said. Except a storm took away everything from him.)<br/> | |
| + | .oO(...he doesn't need another doing that to him again.) | ||
Latest revision as of 14:23, 8 August 2013
| Just a Storm... | |
|---|---|
| Date of Cutscene: | 07 August 2013 |
| Location: | Unknown |
| Synopsis: | Reflections while dancing in the rain... |
| Thanks to: | Riku |
| Cast of Characters: | Alma Hyral |
BGM(Listen to both at once for maximum effect):
http://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=AIJZWbuLmr8
http://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=SDmbGrQqWog
.oO(I’m just as terrible as any Shadow Lord.)
She felt the subtle changes in barometric pressure as keenly as she would any sense a cloying smell, or sickly sweet taste. Long before the other senses even perceived that a storm was on the horizon.
.oO(Oh there was a time when I thought I was better. I was tasking myself to restore all worlds. That’s an altruistic goal, isn’t it?)
Dark clouds began to loom in the distance, a promise of what was to come.
.oO(I was lying to myself though wasn’t I? I could tell myself that I was doing it to help people…but all I was doing was filling in the holes of my clockwork universe.)
The smell of ozone, the feel of static in the air.
.oO(I never really connected to most people. There were just a few that meant something more to me than just another small piece of the puzzle. But in the end all they became were just very big gears, and springs and sprockets that I fit into place.)
The sound of water droplets pattering. A white noise to drown out all other noises. Tranquility in and of itself, to a child of storms.
.oO(And when some pieces wouldn’t fit, when they wouldn't bend to be a part of my grand design. I cast them aside.)
And then the feel of rain. At first little smudges upon clothing, but before long it had become little rivulets running down her skin, while fabric clung unto it.
.oO(…but there was one piece that never really did fit. And I couldn’t find it in me to cast that piece aside.)
She began to turn in place, like a ballerina, going through her movements. One leg up against the other. Hands upraised. A flash of forked light criss-crossed the sky.
.oO(So I made the time piece try to fit them instead. I altered it’s configuration, I tried to jam the piece inside of it, tried to break it.)
A jumping movement carried her forward. Hands still upraised over her head. The movement itself was more graceful than she was actually capable of. A clap of thunder punctuated her landing.
.oO(…and when that piece still wouldn’t fit. Did I try to alter it? Burn away the 'impurities'? Mold it to fit? I don’t know what was going through my head at the time. Maybe I never will.)
One leg bent upon landing, while the other splayed out. Back straight, neck lifted upwards to the heavens.
.oO(So in the end it all fell apart. And instead of a magnum opus… what I have now is a pile of twisted debris.)
Another flash, in which the light was so overwhelming that she was a mere shadow against the backdrop.
.oO(All because of one piece…)
.oO(…that wouldn’t fit.)
As thunder boomed around her, she hung suspended for a while, as if frozen in position. High above the ground, but still beneath the storm. Salt stung her eyes and other rivulets joined with the dirty rainwater.
.oO(And maybe I don’t want to view my life as a clock any longer. Maybe I don’t want to view people as pieces of it anymore...)
The air was her dance floor. The heavens were the only roof above her head. Fitting for a child of storms. An adopted child of the stars. And the earth far below lapped up her bitter tears as hungrily as it did the rain.
.oO(Just a storm, I said. Except a storm took away everything from him.)
.oO(...he doesn't need another doing that to him again.)
