cost you to keep me quiet
The one who did not need proof that there was life after death most of all was Vincent, and yet, he could not resist crossing over to the island to see for himself what had emerged from the ashes of an all too soon forgotten monument within Novus. Sure enough, the sands were as white as they were rumored to be and the forests just as lush. He was quite passive in his opinion of them, as neither things beautiful or thriving intrigued him if they were not conscious of him in turn.
But he did feel that the word Utopia had been thrown around all too willingly, when in fact, the peaceful nature of the place was simply unnerving. Nothing was ever truly peaceful. Peace was just another word without meaning. Like ‘love’ and ‘destiny’, it was just an idol to be praised and cried out for but ever intangible to the pleading masses. The only proof of its existence were the ancient tales of its past and quite temporary state, which was repeated by mortals with the leisure to lie. Novus’ history was just a fable mistaken for gospel. Did any of these mindless fools ever know peace in their chaotic lives? Forgetting wartime, the never-ending string of natural disaster and erroneous equine behavior bled together to span every moment in time that the people ever knew. They even say fight for peace. Chant it. Scream it. Bundle it up in prayer. Do they even hear what they are saying? Even Vincent, who had to die to live, found the irony of the phrase laughable. Then again, he found most matters of the equine mind a laughable thing. He willed peace to remain a lie. Chaos kept the world strong, kept it lively, kept it…interesting.
He knew chaos would eventually take this place under its seething shadow like it did everywhere else that the citizens of Novus traveled because they were the ones to guide it there. Just as they did now. What a frenzy it was. He only grasped bits and pieces. Something about a lost relic or another related to Tempus. Most of the bystanders cut themselves off as he appeared, openly leery of him for obvious reasons. He didn’t skulk in the shadows with the sinners and he certainly made no effort to hide his hideous figure from the world. Oh, not when the Gods made him this way. They were proud of him, surely, so why shouldn’t he be as well? The exposed flesh and bone, gnarled appendages, and gleaming rows of pointed ivories made him a work of Gods’ art in his mind. So under the light of day, without a drop of shame, he immersed himself in to an awkwardly parting crowd of whisperers and limped past them without a word. He glanced at the inscription as he passed the statue and in that moment he was glad his face no longer betrayed emotion.
He always did enjoy a game of hide and seek.
But he did feel that the word Utopia had been thrown around all too willingly, when in fact, the peaceful nature of the place was simply unnerving. Nothing was ever truly peaceful. Peace was just another word without meaning. Like ‘love’ and ‘destiny’, it was just an idol to be praised and cried out for but ever intangible to the pleading masses. The only proof of its existence were the ancient tales of its past and quite temporary state, which was repeated by mortals with the leisure to lie. Novus’ history was just a fable mistaken for gospel. Did any of these mindless fools ever know peace in their chaotic lives? Forgetting wartime, the never-ending string of natural disaster and erroneous equine behavior bled together to span every moment in time that the people ever knew. They even say fight for peace. Chant it. Scream it. Bundle it up in prayer. Do they even hear what they are saying? Even Vincent, who had to die to live, found the irony of the phrase laughable. Then again, he found most matters of the equine mind a laughable thing. He willed peace to remain a lie. Chaos kept the world strong, kept it lively, kept it…interesting.
He knew chaos would eventually take this place under its seething shadow like it did everywhere else that the citizens of Novus traveled because they were the ones to guide it there. Just as they did now. What a frenzy it was. He only grasped bits and pieces. Something about a lost relic or another related to Tempus. Most of the bystanders cut themselves off as he appeared, openly leery of him for obvious reasons. He didn’t skulk in the shadows with the sinners and he certainly made no effort to hide his hideous figure from the world. Oh, not when the Gods made him this way. They were proud of him, surely, so why shouldn’t he be as well? The exposed flesh and bone, gnarled appendages, and gleaming rows of pointed ivories made him a work of Gods’ art in his mind. So under the light of day, without a drop of shame, he immersed himself in to an awkwardly parting crowd of whisperers and limped past them without a word. He glanced at the inscription as he passed the statue and in that moment he was glad his face no longer betrayed emotion.
He always did enjoy a game of hide and seek.
STAFF EDIT***
@vincent has rolled a 1! He has been awarded +1 EXP point.
