Time. The line of everlasting existence through events and history? Or was it something more? Fact was, time was not something that could truthfully be explained by anyone. It was infinite. Just like the mysteries it held deep within its roots. Many thought of time as a way to recognize the present...Others believed it to be so much more. A force beyond comprehension doing its work unintentionally and perfectly all at once. The stubborn existence of organization that held the past within a seal. The bringer of the future and the giver of the present. Some believed time to be a god all itself, invisible to the naked eye and unheard through religion. It very well could have been. When phrases are shouted out like ‘we are out of time!’ or ‘Times up.’ To some they are just phrases, to others they are tribute to the all mighty god of time. Whoever it may be weather it was real or not. Or perhaps…for something to be real one must simply believe it to be real? Faith was a powerful substance in many cultures throughout history.
Consisting side by side with time was the gift of memories. A function of history stored within the subconscious of ones mind throughout the period of their lives. Of course…there were always memories better left forgotten. Despite the fact memories would always eventually be forgotten in the downward spiral called time. The memories of the past, of those before us. Never told from the beholder but often from the witness. Stories and legends passed down generation to generation but with each generation only losing more and more of the truth as the line between reality and fantasy grows ever so thinner. It was the same with the beings that traveled the world. Over time ones blood does not strengthen. It weakens. If one were to make a copy, of a copy, of a copy it would not come out stronger. But weaker. This has always been true. The memories that held the truth where lost…forgotten In time.
Shadows stretched over the tall buildings of the city as if to create a web of darkness. The streets echoed with the raw sound of speeders and merchants, the bustling crowd moving endlessly like a current. Within this crowd, standing stationary and watching ahead of him stood a young man with eyes of crystalline blue. Staring at his prey with a look of disgust and displeasure as if he were not pleased with something about him. The man stood, growling and mumbling to himself. The boys vision never left the merchant as his eyes glistened in the moonlight, turning it a variety of sharp colors. The man turned his neck and cracked it softly. His eyes left the point and now were directed to the glittering stars overhead. "Survival of the fittest..." He whispered bitterly to himself, lowering his head he sighed heavily and thought long and hard about something. His breath caught in his chest when the merchant suddenly packed up and began to walk away, mixing into the crowd. Forcing a breath of relief to escape Sparda's lips.
Eyes would narrow as his canine like ears swiveled atop his head like radar dishes... "Just keep walking..." He whispered, placing his hands into his pockets and stalking off into the crowd as his twin tails flicked behind him. He needed to find that clothing merchant...he needed a new pair of shoes.
Alexandra Cinthra
Consisting side by side with time was the gift of memories. A function of history stored within the subconscious of ones mind throughout the period of their lives. Of course…there were always memories better left forgotten. Despite the fact memories would always eventually be forgotten in the downward spiral called time. The memories of the past, of those before us. Never told from the beholder but often from the witness. Stories and legends passed down generation to generation but with each generation only losing more and more of the truth as the line between reality and fantasy grows ever so thinner. It was the same with the beings that traveled the world. Over time ones blood does not strengthen. It weakens. If one were to make a copy, of a copy, of a copy it would not come out stronger. But weaker. This has always been true. The memories that held the truth where lost…forgotten In time.
Shadows stretched over the tall buildings of the city as if to create a web of darkness. The streets echoed with the raw sound of speeders and merchants, the bustling crowd moving endlessly like a current. Within this crowd, standing stationary and watching ahead of him stood a young man with eyes of crystalline blue. Staring at his prey with a look of disgust and displeasure as if he were not pleased with something about him. The man stood, growling and mumbling to himself. The boys vision never left the merchant as his eyes glistened in the moonlight, turning it a variety of sharp colors. The man turned his neck and cracked it softly. His eyes left the point and now were directed to the glittering stars overhead. "Survival of the fittest..." He whispered bitterly to himself, lowering his head he sighed heavily and thought long and hard about something. His breath caught in his chest when the merchant suddenly packed up and began to walk away, mixing into the crowd. Forcing a breath of relief to escape Sparda's lips.
Eyes would narrow as his canine like ears swiveled atop his head like radar dishes... "Just keep walking..." He whispered, placing his hands into his pockets and stalking off into the crowd as his twin tails flicked behind him. He needed to find that clothing merchant...he needed a new pair of shoes.
Alexandra Cinthra