The Portal
12-04-2017, 03:20 AM
I wished impossible things on blue stars that never came true
The days of winter seemed to pass in uniformity, not well defined, save for the pathetically pale light of the sun. I did not know when the Rift would choose to stop attempting to freeze me to death in the night, and I feared the spring would never come.
It never did.
Instead, the ice and snow dissipated almost overnight, with the sun above rising more powerfully and consistently than I remember. The heat it gave off disturbed me, and even though the breath of winter remained in the air, I could foresee the future season being... miserable.
I thought of trying to leave this fractured world behind; try to slip through the wormhole back to my former life and servitude or gamble on taking another path entirely. How much worse could existence really get?
Yet, even as I stood among the trees and watchful eyes of the Portal, I cannot commit to waltzing out of my current life and into a new one.
Rebirth into this life had been painful enough. Severing all ties to my former home had been easy, as it was an accident, but now, I am reluctant to leave this disturbed and violent world behind.
Odd. Yes, it is very odd.
Maybe the Rift chose me for a purpose. I think this is unlikely, for I am unwilling to admit just how broken and fractured the world has made me. I no longer feel the wing running through my feathers, as though the limbs were still attached to my body. I no longer see my mother's face on every stranger. I no longer hear my father's commands in the dark. I no longer see the flies and worms crawling out of Cyphre's eye sockets. Where have they gone - the missing pieces of myself? When did they disappear?
I cannot recall.
So, maybe the Rift chose me due to my broken spirit; the soul, once whole and pure, has since been tainted by the trials of my life. Perhaps, the land chose me because it saw itself within my heart. Who better to restore a broken world than broken souls?
My musings come to an abrupt end as I hear a coy voice in the dark.
My steps halt immediately, my ears tilt toward the sound. Slowly, my head cranes around until my teal eyes catch on figures in the dying light.
A stallion with metal wings strapped upon his body; I feel envy rise in my chest. Beside him, a mare that looks to be made of the night sky. Ah, so she was speaking to the cyborg.
She called him Watcher, which I think odd for a name; more suited to a title or position, which I find even more odd. I had not encountered a single herd or band since my arrival.
Cautiously, I take steps toward the pair in the night. I halt where I can still see both of their figures clearly, making sure to keep an escape handy. The two obviously know each other, so picking a fight is unwise. Unlike with Roscorro, I fear my chances of victory are slim.
"Good evening."
""
It never did.
Instead, the ice and snow dissipated almost overnight, with the sun above rising more powerfully and consistently than I remember. The heat it gave off disturbed me, and even though the breath of winter remained in the air, I could foresee the future season being... miserable.
I thought of trying to leave this fractured world behind; try to slip through the wormhole back to my former life and servitude or gamble on taking another path entirely. How much worse could existence really get?
Yet, even as I stood among the trees and watchful eyes of the Portal, I cannot commit to waltzing out of my current life and into a new one.
Rebirth into this life had been painful enough. Severing all ties to my former home had been easy, as it was an accident, but now, I am reluctant to leave this disturbed and violent world behind.
Odd. Yes, it is very odd.
Maybe the Rift chose me for a purpose. I think this is unlikely, for I am unwilling to admit just how broken and fractured the world has made me. I no longer feel the wing running through my feathers, as though the limbs were still attached to my body. I no longer see my mother's face on every stranger. I no longer hear my father's commands in the dark. I no longer see the flies and worms crawling out of Cyphre's eye sockets. Where have they gone - the missing pieces of myself? When did they disappear?
I cannot recall.
So, maybe the Rift chose me due to my broken spirit; the soul, once whole and pure, has since been tainted by the trials of my life. Perhaps, the land chose me because it saw itself within my heart. Who better to restore a broken world than broken souls?
My musings come to an abrupt end as I hear a coy voice in the dark.
My steps halt immediately, my ears tilt toward the sound. Slowly, my head cranes around until my teal eyes catch on figures in the dying light.
A stallion with metal wings strapped upon his body; I feel envy rise in my chest. Beside him, a mare that looks to be made of the night sky. Ah, so she was speaking to the cyborg.
She called him Watcher, which I think odd for a name; more suited to a title or position, which I find even more odd. I had not encountered a single herd or band since my arrival.
Cautiously, I take steps toward the pair in the night. I halt where I can still see both of their figures clearly, making sure to keep an escape handy. The two obviously know each other, so picking a fight is unwise. Unlike with Roscorro, I fear my chances of victory are slim.
"Good evening."
""
RAEIN.
