Forgotten Stories [Zack, Aerith, Rufus] Feb 13, 2015 20:09:28 GMT -5
Post by zack on Feb 13, 2015 20:09:28 GMT -5
It will be made a wasteland,
It was dark, perhaps the darkest the Forgotten Capital had ever been. Even though the sun had only just set, the winds had changed, and from the north came the rapid advance of a storm, until the whole sky was covered in black clouds. The rain that followed came down in a torrential downpour, each deafening peal of thunder immediately accompanied by the flash of lightning, ripping across the horizon and violently shaking the ground with each terrible strike. It was all so strange, before now, the weather had seemed like it would be fair for the rest of the evening. What changed? It was as if The Planet itself was groaning.
Parched and desolate before me;
The wind picked up, howling through the ruins, whistling as it passed into long abandoned structures. It blew here and there, until there was no escaping the deadly chill it brought from the mountains. But there was more than a coolness to this breeze, it also bore the noise of a far-off battle, sounds of gunfire and pain, clear enough to sound like they came from a distance, but faint enough to make you wonder if it was all in your head. There was a tangible feeling of loss, loneliness, silence, and sadness that hung like a pall over the city. There was something very wrong here, like the city wanted to scream but couldn't find a voice to make the sound.
The whole land will be laid waste
From within the deepest part of the city, its very center, came an echo, a noise that seemed all too real compared to the faint whispers on the wind. It was the sound of metal against metal, a fierce exchange of blows followed by a burst of magic, explosions. With each clash The Planet trembled, a flash of light would move through the tunnels and hallways, followed by waves of Mako energy. Somehow, those who felt it instinctively knew that the magic didn't come from any sort of Materia, even though all they could experience was its residual power. Somehow, they instinctively knew that this desperate struggle was the cause of The Planet's pain.
Because there is no one who cares.
Suddenly, the Lifestream sprung from the ground, curling through the air as it sped towards the source of the disturbance, as if rushing to heal a wound or fight some enemy of The Planet, maybe both. It was all so strange, but an all too familiar situation, like Meteorfall all over again, but on a much smaller scale. Except, The Planet wasn't at stake this time, there was something or someone else, something that couldn't be grasped. Those who followed the Lifestream would find old memories in the forefront of their mind. The longer they held onto those memories, the more they seemed to move into the past. The more they moved into the past, the deeper the memories they could hold onto, and the more beautiful the past became.