Chapter 4: We Are (Not) Alone
Posted On: Feb 18, 2019 13:20:51 GMT 7
Post by MainNarrator on Feb 18, 2019 13:20:51 GMT 7
Final Chapter
Year 1438, 4th Week of Quintilius
Until: March 10th
Level Cap: 6
Lacrimosa
You woke up in the darkness.
And it is about this dream again. You remember yourself. You remember them. They remember you.
You had flashbacks of things you've had through. You had remembrances of the small nudges. You saw their smile. You saw their tears. You saw their relief. You saw their disappointments.
You saw some wounds on you, that some of them has placed.
You saw some wounds on them, that you have placed.
Then you realize; it is not only the usual. You saw those people who have been at your side. Or at their side.
Some are familiar, such as the unlikely pair whom have met some of you on a relatively routine basis; each of them seems to have only one good eye. Cruelly separated by fate, yet seemingly a more despair awaits them.
Others are not so familiar, like the young knights resembling one another so much, yet separated so far, that might only have met with some of you for once or twice, each with their own path of exile; each seemingly held something dark behind their gentle face and handsome smile.
Some are old people or unbearable vile; yet some are young and innocent child like figures or shorter adults. Some appearing out of nowhere, some disappearing into nothingness.
Some have obvious traits, yet looks totally uncommon. Others have obscure face, covered by armors or wrappings. Some hide themselves from others. Some hide others from themselves.
Some looks honorable figures of high social status, with various age disparity. Others are despicable wenches or scums, yet with an eye full of purpose. Which mask is more elaborate to cover the opposite face: the mask of light, or the mask of darkness, you can only wonder.
Some are men of otherwise gallant figure, others are beautiful ladies of otherwise elegant figure; yet all are bound and broken.
Behind them all you see that the movement of their bindings, as if moved by some unknown power. Each seemed to be influenced by some seals. Root Seals covering places. Shackle Seals covering horrific items. Arcane Seals covering figures. Girdle Seals locking sacred tome.
As if these certain seals, are the ones capable of moving the figures you knew, so painful that they started to move involuntarily, even harming others nearby them.
You reflexively attempted to move to help them; to relieve them from pain, by confronting the separated Seals. But it was also then, you realized that those Seals, have a very faint line of shimmering crimson. A very thin red line, that made your heart filled with uneasy feeling. That your enemies might have something in common.
However this time, you finally able to see those people bound by the movements of thin red line. You can see their eyes. They can see yours. You all realize that there is no I, no You, and even that there is no They. It is all a complicated thin red lines, connecting people who are struggling to escape their bound, and in turn might hurt others; consciously or not. A person's trash might be another person's treasure, a person's happiness might be another person's sadness. A person's tragedy might be another person's comedy.
Maybe it is too late to release everyone. Maybe it is too late to help anyone. But at least, on that slight split second, you all felt the same way, about this imperfect cruel world of Tenebras Mundi.
That We Are (Not) Alone.
Afterwards, the rhythm starts again, in a downward spiral of hurting and binding; which you might be able to stop or just to let it continue.
But it seems some price or sacrifice would be necessary. Might be yourself.
Or worse, might be the one you really care of.
Then you woke up with a warm liquid streaming down from your eyes, as you know that one episode of your life would reach its conclusion and come to an end in the near future.
Year 1438, 4th Week of Quintilius
Until: March 10th
Level Cap: 6
Lacrimosa
You woke up in the darkness.
And it is about this dream again. You remember yourself. You remember them. They remember you.
You had flashbacks of things you've had through. You had remembrances of the small nudges. You saw their smile. You saw their tears. You saw their relief. You saw their disappointments.
You saw some wounds on you, that some of them has placed.
You saw some wounds on them, that you have placed.
Then you realize; it is not only the usual. You saw those people who have been at your side. Or at their side.
Some are familiar, such as the unlikely pair whom have met some of you on a relatively routine basis; each of them seems to have only one good eye. Cruelly separated by fate, yet seemingly a more despair awaits them.
Others are not so familiar, like the young knights resembling one another so much, yet separated so far, that might only have met with some of you for once or twice, each with their own path of exile; each seemingly held something dark behind their gentle face and handsome smile.
Some are old people or unbearable vile; yet some are young and innocent child like figures or shorter adults. Some appearing out of nowhere, some disappearing into nothingness.
Some have obvious traits, yet looks totally uncommon. Others have obscure face, covered by armors or wrappings. Some hide themselves from others. Some hide others from themselves.
Some looks honorable figures of high social status, with various age disparity. Others are despicable wenches or scums, yet with an eye full of purpose. Which mask is more elaborate to cover the opposite face: the mask of light, or the mask of darkness, you can only wonder.
Some are men of otherwise gallant figure, others are beautiful ladies of otherwise elegant figure; yet all are bound and broken.
Behind them all you see that the movement of their bindings, as if moved by some unknown power. Each seemed to be influenced by some seals. Root Seals covering places. Shackle Seals covering horrific items. Arcane Seals covering figures. Girdle Seals locking sacred tome.
As if these certain seals, are the ones capable of moving the figures you knew, so painful that they started to move involuntarily, even harming others nearby them.
You reflexively attempted to move to help them; to relieve them from pain, by confronting the separated Seals. But it was also then, you realized that those Seals, have a very faint line of shimmering crimson. A very thin red line, that made your heart filled with uneasy feeling. That your enemies might have something in common.
However this time, you finally able to see those people bound by the movements of thin red line. You can see their eyes. They can see yours. You all realize that there is no I, no You, and even that there is no They. It is all a complicated thin red lines, connecting people who are struggling to escape their bound, and in turn might hurt others; consciously or not. A person's trash might be another person's treasure, a person's happiness might be another person's sadness. A person's tragedy might be another person's comedy.
Maybe it is too late to release everyone. Maybe it is too late to help anyone. But at least, on that slight split second, you all felt the same way, about this imperfect cruel world of Tenebras Mundi.
That We Are (Not) Alone.
Afterwards, the rhythm starts again, in a downward spiral of hurting and binding; which you might be able to stop or just to let it continue.
But it seems some price or sacrifice would be necessary. Might be yourself.
Or worse, might be the one you really care of.
Then you woke up with a warm liquid streaming down from your eyes, as you know that one episode of your life would reach its conclusion and come to an end in the near future.
