Dec. 21st, 2009

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((ooc: Posting this now, with the knowledge that the scenes referenced will be elaborated upon later.))

A young man walks by, humming under his breath, his head buried in the sheaf of music clutched in his hand. Yet the memories, when the come, are not of that man a thousand years dead, images blurred by time an guilt, but rather the clear, pristine lies the community has spun for its game. Fifteen years of memories wrapped up in a single, true name: Elloran.

He, the watcher, will feel guilt later, when he revisits these addicting lies. He can wish his relationship with the younger man could have been so simple - even as the lies blur with reality and he mentally chronicles his true journey from mentor to friend. Would that his life were so simple, composed of Latin and History and a scholarly passion for tragedy. Would that the boy-turned-man before him remain forever locked in that moment of concentration, not yet realizing that he lived a lie. Let his innocence last.

How many dreams had been indirectly filled by this seemingly simple virus? Home, family, career - easy enough to achieve in such an 'alternate universe' yet nigh impossible in the twisted reality they called home. And what of harder wishes? Love, certanty, purpose...and harder still, that innocent simplicity that steals away the depth and distrust their respective pasts force upon them. To live so close to 'happy', with friends and family, lovers and ironically perfect careers, and for once to have a beautifully certain purpose...how cruel it is, then, when the musician glances up and catches the Latin teachers eye and - in an instant - the virus is broken.

Time tears them apart, leaving behind only expressions and memories - expressions that will be branded in memories for years to come. From one there is confusion as a friend transforms into a scarred monster, impossibly alien, ancient and weathered, yet impossibly familiar. From the other the overwhelming pain of realization and acceptance of the pain that he is just beginning to realize. The expressions fade with the disappearing faces, leaving only the memories. <i>Memory</i> )

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Karakael

May 2016

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