Window of the Soul
Posted: Sun Jul 09, 2006 4:02 am
Grey light filtered down over a monochrome landscape. Altias Bromn sat upon the hill that seemed to have become his prison. There was the familiar gray oak, which shaded him from light which seemed only a different shade than the night. There were the rolling hills all around him, faded greys moving into black as the distance grew.
For a moment, a few days ago, there had been something new. Something that had snapped him from his lack-luster existence in this colorless world. A window of sorts had formed on a nearby hill. Through that window he saw a face that had become lost to him. For a moment, he did not recognize the face, only that the window provided the color of a world almost forgotten to him. Then it hit him. Hit him harder than the numerous times Lamai had broken his nose.
Ariane!
Long legs carried him with all the speed he could muster toward the bright spot in the dull world that had become his home. Hands reached forward, as memories flooded back to him. Memories of passion, frustration, pride, love, honor, duty. Just as his fingertips touched the window, it slammed shut, leaving him alone in the grey once more.
Altias did not know what he was doing here, or even where *here* was. What he did know, in that moment, was the longer he stayed, the harder it would be to remember why it was he needed to escape. Try as he might to hold on to that bright spot, over the course of a few hours, the memories faded, and he returned to his spot upon the hill, watching the dull world cycle around him.
Outside the grey landscape, the one called Okulari slept. Each hour of his existence pushing Altias Bromn farther and farther away, until eventually, there would no longer be an Altias Bromn.
For a moment, a few days ago, there had been something new. Something that had snapped him from his lack-luster existence in this colorless world. A window of sorts had formed on a nearby hill. Through that window he saw a face that had become lost to him. For a moment, he did not recognize the face, only that the window provided the color of a world almost forgotten to him. Then it hit him. Hit him harder than the numerous times Lamai had broken his nose.
Ariane!
Long legs carried him with all the speed he could muster toward the bright spot in the dull world that had become his home. Hands reached forward, as memories flooded back to him. Memories of passion, frustration, pride, love, honor, duty. Just as his fingertips touched the window, it slammed shut, leaving him alone in the grey once more.
Altias did not know what he was doing here, or even where *here* was. What he did know, in that moment, was the longer he stayed, the harder it would be to remember why it was he needed to escape. Try as he might to hold on to that bright spot, over the course of a few hours, the memories faded, and he returned to his spot upon the hill, watching the dull world cycle around him.
Outside the grey landscape, the one called Okulari slept. Each hour of his existence pushing Altias Bromn farther and farther away, until eventually, there would no longer be an Altias Bromn.