Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)The Silver Muse
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Jan 18, 2009
- Location
- PST
It was a melancholy city nearby. One which should have been shrouded beneath some dust tinged glass of foggy memories. But it was always clear, as if the surface of the looking glass were ever polished, refreshed, and under constant scrutiny. It took no effort to remember every detail, every feeling and wavelength of voices and emotion which lingered on the sparse mountain air. The memories themselves were perhaps too sharp, too poignant, burned into her mind with deep dark etchings of black ink, solidified and preserved beneath the tomes of leather bound covers. It took only one mild breath to blow away the fine dust which settled over its surface to prompt recollection, and there it was again, as if time or growth could never seal or steal that part of an unwanted past away.
Nibelhiem was trying to grow again. Midgar had been abandoned, next to it a new metropolis known as Edge. Rocket Town was expanding with their knowledge in astrophysics and engineering. Costa del Sol was a quaint and small area, but overpopulated with tourists and those who escaped the cold. Retired or elderly people seemed to take up most of the Nibelhiem's residence. It was hard to believe that once upon a time, a flock of children led by a popular little girl once ran in the dusty pavilion beneath the Innâs main window. That the events which lead to the Planet's condition began there. That a story began there; the source of so much pain and anguish, the book opened and just now coming to a close.
Nibelhiem. She would never go back there again. But why would that tangent of her stagnant mind be so moved to think upon that now? The sound of ripples as small puddles formed within the once frozen tomb whispered among the ice blue walls of the cavern. Perhaps it was barely noticeable, if at all. Water was not unwelcome to the realm, situated beneath the isolated waterfall. But gradually, the sharp edges of the prison would be blunted, the ice-like crystals perhaps ice after all, and if not, at least behaving as such. Whether or not the phenomenon had been a part of her original design, the time in which it had come to occur was as perfect as it was flawed. It was all over now. She had made peace with the secrets she had kept from him and now, he knew everything. She would have been content to pass and die within her glass tomb.
In the cavern was left nothing else but a woman, no longer so prettily displayed and preserved, but cold and huddled within transparent waters, brinking on reanimation and eternal sleep. Their bodies would not let them die. No voice, perhaps no words, but even in that denial, there was something which defined the Loneliness she felt calling out to the only one who had ever preserved her memory in ways she never deserved.
Vincent Valentine.
Nibelhiem was trying to grow again. Midgar had been abandoned, next to it a new metropolis known as Edge. Rocket Town was expanding with their knowledge in astrophysics and engineering. Costa del Sol was a quaint and small area, but overpopulated with tourists and those who escaped the cold. Retired or elderly people seemed to take up most of the Nibelhiem's residence. It was hard to believe that once upon a time, a flock of children led by a popular little girl once ran in the dusty pavilion beneath the Innâs main window. That the events which lead to the Planet's condition began there. That a story began there; the source of so much pain and anguish, the book opened and just now coming to a close.
Nibelhiem. She would never go back there again. But why would that tangent of her stagnant mind be so moved to think upon that now? The sound of ripples as small puddles formed within the once frozen tomb whispered among the ice blue walls of the cavern. Perhaps it was barely noticeable, if at all. Water was not unwelcome to the realm, situated beneath the isolated waterfall. But gradually, the sharp edges of the prison would be blunted, the ice-like crystals perhaps ice after all, and if not, at least behaving as such. Whether or not the phenomenon had been a part of her original design, the time in which it had come to occur was as perfect as it was flawed. It was all over now. She had made peace with the secrets she had kept from him and now, he knew everything. She would have been content to pass and die within her glass tomb.
In the cavern was left nothing else but a woman, no longer so prettily displayed and preserved, but cold and huddled within transparent waters, brinking on reanimation and eternal sleep. Their bodies would not let them die. No voice, perhaps no words, but even in that denial, there was something which defined the Loneliness she felt calling out to the only one who had ever preserved her memory in ways she never deserved.
Vincent Valentine.