Beginning of the End [Aotori; Invite] Oct 22, 2014 18:20:06 GMT -5
Post by lightning on Oct 22, 2014 18:20:06 GMT -5
You have to sometimes begin, where another ended.
to the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim.
THIS IS WAR
Drifting through time and space one would find themselves forever spinning through the endless void of non-existence. The Historia Crux was a world between worlds, a place only gods were meant to travel. Man was not meant to lay their eyes upon these passages, lest unravel the fabric of existence itself. Twisting cogs fought to keep time perfectly spun along a single thread, but it was not always such a simple task: keeping time flowing steady. Time was uneven and was prone to fraying at the thinner ends yet built upon by experience. It was not long ago that Lightning had faced the threat of time becoming unraveled down to its very core.
Light has been carried all across the annals of time and not once has she come even close to its end since that day. Though it was not so much an end than it was a new path, devoid of all existence. It was enough to wake a god from his slumber and look upon his world and what it had become. War had swallowed it and without the goddess to give them life, man faced their time becoming stagnant. They say that, on that eve, time came to an end.
It was said that time eventually came to an stop, bringing with it the ruination of worlds. The universe could not spin forever so all things soon found their ability to move forward halted. Progress was finite, or they would lead you to believe. In her travels she had seen countless paths narrow into a single route, and small tunnels spread out into massive outlines of untold futures. The fortune of time dragging on was unparalleled in its riches. The sound of the tick tocking of clocks ensured that, one day, a new path would open. The paths could only open in part to the efforts of, not one, but many individuals. But where was this end that everyone spoke so much of?
It was where no man belonged. It would seem that Lightning would arrive there once more.
The Time Gate tore open in the middle of a dark street. Rain rushes from the cloud thick skies above, fighting for a single moment in the light of the streetlamps before plummeting down into the pavement and rushing toward the metal grates and into unused sewers. The hissing swirl of the waters rushing from slanted roofs and bouncing from glass to brick, filled the air with a discordant cacophony. The void tore asunder in the midst an even greater void. The soft click of Light's metal boots pressed against the street's pavement as she floated down from the gate. Her arms were at her sides and her Vampbraces reflecting the shallow glow of the lamps above. At her side her feather covered skirt danced against the whirling winds that cut through the high rise buildings and between abandoned allies. Though the armor she wore covered less than full plate mail, it provided the light-footed goddess with mobility.
There was no Moonlight to behold, even as the sky struggled to peek through the black, knitted cloudforms. All was dark, Lightning a sore presence against the backdrop of melancholy. There stood no means to determine if it was night or day, but Light could feel it here; the sensation of the presence of life lay buried somewhere in this world. It was as if, here, time could not flow. Time was stuck.
It was no Valhalla, but it had the same feeling. It was if she had come to the end of the world. Nothing moved forward, nothing turned back. Everything seemed to just exist, in one place. What sort of realm was this? Another world where time returned to its roots, to a time where man did not need it to face tomorrow. It was a shelter from the agony of death, a wellspring of life. But could it truly be called a life when all you did was stand still and wait? Perhaps this sensations was fault. Perhaps there was time? Perhaps there was an Artefact hidden amongst the long shadows that reaches between the streetlights...
Light stepped forward before she halted and turned heel toward the gate. Raising her hand, her thin, leather-covered fingers splayed out. She could easily compare the sensation to being shocked. Arcs of energy leaped from the tips of her fingers and hooked against the circular shape of the gate like a fishing net. Light would close her hands, wrapping her slender digits around he sensation and grabbed hold to it like a rope. She pulled and closed the gate so that nothing could come in, or escape out, not until she confirmed the existence, or lack-there-of, of the Artefact.
These crystallized fractures of time often contained a piece of the World Beyond, the Void, were relics. These relics contained condensed time: experiences forced into a small space that had the risk of bursting. These burps of time rippled across the fabric of space and opened rips that could very well swallow a world with Chaos. Chaos was not something that belonged in the Seen World with such abundance. It was unstable and often granted the terrible wishes of a time that could no longer exist.
It would push the world to crash into a world that has come to its end.
After closing the gate the Valkyrie would make a smooth turn and pace down the lonely block. In the distance she could see the top of a great skyscraper. Perhaps it was where she could find a point of reference or even life. Even in Valhalla, the great tower had been where all other life congregated.