FUCK you for getting that song stuck in my head again, i did not need to be an edgy 13 year old today (i say as i go on to write edgy flavortext)
There is no one around you. You are all alone. You are alone. You are
Are you?
Loneliness and solitude; such feelings can only be defined by knowing there are others like you. By knowing you are part of a greater whole.
Are you?
What can a star know of loneliness? What does it care for other stars? They are all of them, each and every one, unique, closed off in worlds of their own.
[ every day is the best day to be an edgy 13 year old imo
There's an achingly familiar aspect to each part of Levity he's encountered thus far - - this being no exception. he knows the feeling of being alone, unique, all too well, both literally and metaphorically speaking. so it doesn't slow his step in the slightest. ]
the part of levity that's a dumb horny teen: haha omg we have so much in common /twirls hair around finger
There's a curious sense of almost peace to it, the resignation to your otherness, to being left in a foreign, changed world, bereft of things you knew and loved. You know what it's like, don't you? To have a life you can no longer return to, and no way to start a new one?
And to everyone around you, this barren land is what is right, however much it hurts you to see it - once your home, replaced with something else now. And you are pushed out, left to fade away, but what end is there for one who lives for an eternity? You do not live, but merely exist. And one day, that mere existence becomes more than you can bear.
boy does he know what that's like! and, though the hurt comes across he's almost numb to it -- again. numb to that feeling, all too used to the alienation he experienced, even working with the empire. in the end, they too were nothing but tools for his own demise.
[ years. years, decades, centuries, he questioned himself, the gods, his own blood, what cursed him to such a fate. before there was anger there was a bottomless sorrow and despair.
he stops - - as if somehow that would make this stop.]
That despair rises within you, as though drawn out by invisible hands. Your pleas were never answered, were they? The world did not care. Did your kindness, hope, honour amount to anything? Did they save you?
[ he snarls, closing his eyes as if that would protect him from that invisible force. he knows - - he knows that all his love for the world meant nothing. at the end of the day it was all a waste. ]
Still the same empty space desert! Looks like there's nowhere else to go, just the emptiness, darkness and the self-loathing. Surely, Absinthe has never experienced anything like this before.
he exhales, then - - and presses on, turning his gaze back towards "forward". wherever forward is, or was, he'll keep walking, stubborn even in the face of the thoughts plaguing him. ]
Out here, "forward" is basically any direction, even "back".
And there's a lot of thoughts! Stubborn, mocking, baleful - as though they're really trying their best to get into his head and under his skin again, either break him or make him furious.
But if he can weather it... eventually, even those thoughts fade away. There's a particularly empty feeling to everything, perhaps for only a few minutes, perhaps for a few centuries. It's hard to tell.
But at one point the barren desert underfoot sprouts small clumps of dead grass - almost colorless, dried out by wind and cold, but nevertheless more proof of existence than anything else here.
[ at last!! he's almost embarrassed at how relieved he feels stepping onto that grass, waiting for a moment like a man who's just hit solid ground after months at sea and just needs to adjust to it - - before exhaling, again, and stepping onward. ]
lmao fucking loser cant even handle an indeterminable amount of time in complete solitude with deep self-loathing (again), what a nerd
There is... more grass! The landscape reshapes itself as you move forward, the illusion - or previous reality - of the dead space desert dissipating. Separate patches of grass become a rolling field, dead and dry at edges, but gaining a measure of colour and texture as you move on: no longer empty husks, but rather the grass in winter, half-withered but still clinging to life. Winter isn't endless, after all.
The field dips a little downhill: the landscape is taking on more shape now, rising here, descending there. Somewhere in the distance boulders begin to form, taller, rougher shapes; here and there, a distant scribble of a tree.
There is now a track underfoot, leading you further down what is now a hill. There is still more colour in the surroundings; not bright, the sky itself overcast, but neither dead nor empty anymore. More like... sleeping, perhaps. And now that the metaphor has found its way into your mind, it feels all the more appropriate - like all of this, this land or whatever it may be, is a giant creature in slumber.
[ it's a very welcome change of pace! Absinthe stops at the crest of that hill, for a time, breathing deeply and allowing his mind to Calm The Fuck Down A Little.
once he has that breather he'll step forward, calling out: ]
There is no direct response as such, but soon the track passes by... a big tree! It looks more alive than its surroundings, too, and it's possible to make out tiny feeble lights floating near the trunk. Fireflies?
The bark is touchable! And barky! And very slightly warm?
One of the fireflies also drifts closer to Absinthe's hand, settling on it - though firefly isn't maybe the right word, exactly. It doesn't look like an insect even up close, just a tiny spark of golden-ish light, but the way it moves suggests some kind of purpose or sentience in it.
Glowy friend!!! It's not super tangible; there's a slight sense of pressure on Absinthe's fingertip as he pokes it, like maybe touching water. It's pleasantly warm, too!
And it may not be immediately noticeable, but the longer you hold the little light, the more colour seems to return to the surroundings, as though spring is coming.
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Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
he doesn't see much point to stopping now so he will in fact keep walking! alone, down the only road that he has ever known, etc. ]
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
There is no one around you. You are all alone. You are alone. You are
Are you?
Loneliness and solitude; such feelings can only be defined by knowing there are others like you. By knowing you are part of a greater whole.
Are you?
What can a star know of loneliness? What does it care for other stars? They are all of them, each and every one, unique, closed off in worlds of their own.
And you, too, are unique.
Unique, individual, singular, solitary.
Ah, there is no one like you.
Do you go on?
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
There's an achingly familiar aspect to each part of Levity he's encountered thus far - - this being no exception. he knows the feeling of being alone, unique, all too well, both literally and metaphorically speaking. so it doesn't slow his step in the slightest. ]
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
There's a curious sense of almost peace to it, the resignation to your otherness, to being left in a foreign, changed world, bereft of things you knew and loved. You know what it's like, don't you? To have a life you can no longer return to, and no way to start a new one?
And to everyone around you, this barren land is what is right, however much it hurts you to see it - once your home, replaced with something else now. And you are pushed out, left to fade away, but what end is there for one who lives for an eternity? You do not live, but merely exist. And one day, that mere existence becomes more than you can bear.
Is there a point in going on?
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
boy does he know what that's like! and, though the hurt comes across he's almost numb to it -- again. numb to that feeling, all too used to the alienation he experienced, even working with the empire. in the end, they too were nothing but tools for his own demise.
so -- relentlessly, he presses onward. ]
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Your bitterness, your anger is just a shell. Take it away, and you're as weak and vulnerable as ever, aren't you...
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no!! there's almost a stubbornness to how he keeps walking, now, rather than a resoluteness. like it's in spite of something. ]
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But you never grew strong. You never were strong, really.
How long did you plead, deep down, for the world to stop hurting you?
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he stops - - as if somehow that would make this stop.]
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[ he snarls, closing his eyes as if that would protect him from that invisible force. he knows - - he knows that all his love for the world meant nothing. at the end of the day it was all a waste. ]
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he exhales, then - - and presses on, turning his gaze back towards "forward". wherever forward is, or was, he'll keep walking, stubborn even in the face of the thoughts plaguing him. ]
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
And there's a lot of thoughts! Stubborn, mocking, baleful - as though they're really trying their best to get into his head and under his skin again, either break him or make him furious.
But if he can weather it... eventually, even those thoughts fade away. There's a particularly empty feeling to everything, perhaps for only a few minutes, perhaps for a few centuries. It's hard to tell.
But at one point the barren desert underfoot sprouts small clumps of dead grass - almost colorless, dried out by wind and cold, but nevertheless more proof of existence than anything else here.
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
There is... more grass! The landscape reshapes itself as you move forward, the illusion - or previous reality - of the dead space desert dissipating. Separate patches of grass become a rolling field, dead and dry at edges, but gaining a measure of colour and texture as you move on: no longer empty husks, but rather the grass in winter, half-withered but still clinging to life. Winter isn't endless, after all.
The field dips a little downhill: the landscape is taking on more shape now, rising here, descending there. Somewhere in the distance boulders begin to form, taller, rougher shapes; here and there, a distant scribble of a tree.
There is now a track underfoot, leading you further down what is now a hill. There is still more colour in the surroundings; not bright, the sky itself overcast, but neither dead nor empty anymore. More like... sleeping, perhaps. And now that the metaphor has found its way into your mind, it feels all the more appropriate - like all of this, this land or whatever it may be, is a giant creature in slumber.
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
once he has that breather he'll step forward, calling out: ]
I almost feel a tad lonely!
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
There is no direct response as such, but soon the track passes by... a big tree! It looks more alive than its surroundings, too, and it's possible to make out tiny feeble lights floating near the trunk. Fireflies?
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
One of the fireflies also drifts closer to Absinthe's hand, settling on it - though firefly isn't maybe the right word, exactly. It doesn't look like an insect even up close, just a tiny spark of golden-ish light, but the way it moves suggests some kind of purpose or sentience in it.
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
[ Absinthe's attention will shift from the bark to New New Friend, and with the hand it's not currently perching on he'll give it a curious prod. ]
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
And it may not be immediately noticeable, but the longer you hold the little light, the more colour seems to return to the surroundings, as though spring is coming.
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
[ rather than just prod he'll cup it carefully with both hands, then, seeing if that spreads the colour More than just giving it some pokes ]
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
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Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH