- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- Multiple posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- No Preferences
- Genres
- High fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by modern fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Time passed in a nebulous haze, holding nothing but grey darkness, the sound of rustling pages and the occasional flash of a book's colored spine. When his vision fully returned to him, the tattered papyrus page was fluttering in front of him. Karl stared blankly at it for several moments, before memories began to flash through his mind as the books in the lobby settled onto various surfaces.
Red brick buildings lining a dark asphalt road, heavy curved cars moving slowly up and down the street. An old, heavy ship with a giant smokestack, floating on rough waves. A snakeskin totem pole, shaped vaguely like a cross. A young woman. A ruined old wood cube.
'Maybe getting the first piece would… make it hurt a little less.'
A book flew in from the depths of the library, but was caught by a small, dust colored light. It struggled for a moment, before a single page ripped free and flew into the circular lobby room. A moment later, the light directed the rest of the book back into the library's depths.
Karl took a slow, deep breath, eyes coming into focus, the flood of memories slowly sorting out into more familiar, easily accessed patterns. For a moment, the echoing tick of a projector filled his mind.
His conversation with Hana slowly percolated back through his mind, like a drop of water sliding down a hill. He was able to review their short debate, and the emotional upheaval that had followed it, much more calmly.
The lone page, torn from its book, fluttered faintly before falling still once more.
Soul pain. It had never been a subject he discussed willingly. But in the realm of his own memory, protected by the papyrus page, he could review it more calmly.
The memory stored on that one page wasn't even directly related. Instead it was a conversation. A conversation where he sat down with a close, trusted friend, and slowly walked him through some of his earliest experiences.
Experiences after he had first become immortal. Experiences that were nothing but a vague haze of starvation, loss, injury, and that deep, all consuming pain born from the essence of one's being transforming against its will. Decades that had been so deeply branded into his body that no time could wash away their trace upon him.
No matter how deeply he buried the memories to try and spare himself the pain, no matter how long he went without thinking about them, even a faint stimulus was enough for that echoing cry of ancient suffering to overpower his own wishes, and bring those memories to the surface once again.
For now, though, the refreshed restrictions on soul pain would hold.
Another book fluttered in from the depths of the library.
War. The ceaseless, ever building cruelties of humanity that had finally driven him underground were also carefully filtered, leaving him with nothing but the vaguest impressions of why he'd spent the last half a century underground.
The period of time after Karl adjusted his memories was always like this. Strange blanks that would slowly fill themselves in until his own history felt understandable again. For now, though, he didn't mind. The distance from his own experiences allowed him to think rationally, like he was a viewer watching a movie of someone else's life.
And with that kind of perspective the answer was obvious.
He needed to help Hana. Not just with finding this one piece, but with fixing her soul all the way around. And that was simply because it was fate.
Fate, destiny, they were all ephemeral concepts. But compared to the more abstract perspective most people had on it, Karl's views were much more concrete. Destiny was the influence the outer realms exerted upon earth, the way their eternal pressure against each other created an exchange of influence with earth.
It wasn't a coincidence that a saint had found her way to his doorstep, when he'd gone so far out of his way to hide from the world. And fate always found a way to have its final say.
It was only a question of how long he'd retain that resolution as this clear, elevated view on life faded. Nothing was ever so simple in the moment.
"You're done?" Karl asked.
The papyrus scroll waved in empty air for a moment, before rolling up and vanishing.
Karl's eyes opened, staring into the darkness of his own murky reflection in the obsidian disk.
It was time to go find Hana.
Karl had no way of telling how long he had been away, but the mess Hana had created of the library was a pretty good clue. Staring at the messy stacks of papers scattered all over the room, Karl's lips momentarily pressed into a thin line, before he shook his head slightly to himself.
It wasn't as though he had to clean it up. So long as she hadn't damaged anything, the house would handle the rest.
"Learn anything?" he finally asked, the faint biting tone in his words making it clear he expected no such thing from her. If drumming something into her head was as simple as reading complex research papers, they wouldn't need to have such frustrating conversations.
Red brick buildings lining a dark asphalt road, heavy curved cars moving slowly up and down the street. An old, heavy ship with a giant smokestack, floating on rough waves. A snakeskin totem pole, shaped vaguely like a cross. A young woman. A ruined old wood cube.
'Maybe getting the first piece would… make it hurt a little less.'
A book flew in from the depths of the library, but was caught by a small, dust colored light. It struggled for a moment, before a single page ripped free and flew into the circular lobby room. A moment later, the light directed the rest of the book back into the library's depths.
Karl took a slow, deep breath, eyes coming into focus, the flood of memories slowly sorting out into more familiar, easily accessed patterns. For a moment, the echoing tick of a projector filled his mind.
His conversation with Hana slowly percolated back through his mind, like a drop of water sliding down a hill. He was able to review their short debate, and the emotional upheaval that had followed it, much more calmly.
The lone page, torn from its book, fluttered faintly before falling still once more.
Soul pain. It had never been a subject he discussed willingly. But in the realm of his own memory, protected by the papyrus page, he could review it more calmly.
The memory stored on that one page wasn't even directly related. Instead it was a conversation. A conversation where he sat down with a close, trusted friend, and slowly walked him through some of his earliest experiences.
Experiences after he had first become immortal. Experiences that were nothing but a vague haze of starvation, loss, injury, and that deep, all consuming pain born from the essence of one's being transforming against its will. Decades that had been so deeply branded into his body that no time could wash away their trace upon him.
No matter how deeply he buried the memories to try and spare himself the pain, no matter how long he went without thinking about them, even a faint stimulus was enough for that echoing cry of ancient suffering to overpower his own wishes, and bring those memories to the surface once again.
For now, though, the refreshed restrictions on soul pain would hold.
Another book fluttered in from the depths of the library.
War. The ceaseless, ever building cruelties of humanity that had finally driven him underground were also carefully filtered, leaving him with nothing but the vaguest impressions of why he'd spent the last half a century underground.
The period of time after Karl adjusted his memories was always like this. Strange blanks that would slowly fill themselves in until his own history felt understandable again. For now, though, he didn't mind. The distance from his own experiences allowed him to think rationally, like he was a viewer watching a movie of someone else's life.
And with that kind of perspective the answer was obvious.
He needed to help Hana. Not just with finding this one piece, but with fixing her soul all the way around. And that was simply because it was fate.
Fate, destiny, they were all ephemeral concepts. But compared to the more abstract perspective most people had on it, Karl's views were much more concrete. Destiny was the influence the outer realms exerted upon earth, the way their eternal pressure against each other created an exchange of influence with earth.
It wasn't a coincidence that a saint had found her way to his doorstep, when he'd gone so far out of his way to hide from the world. And fate always found a way to have its final say.
It was only a question of how long he'd retain that resolution as this clear, elevated view on life faded. Nothing was ever so simple in the moment.
"You're done?" Karl asked.
The papyrus scroll waved in empty air for a moment, before rolling up and vanishing.
Karl's eyes opened, staring into the darkness of his own murky reflection in the obsidian disk.
It was time to go find Hana.
Karl had no way of telling how long he had been away, but the mess Hana had created of the library was a pretty good clue. Staring at the messy stacks of papers scattered all over the room, Karl's lips momentarily pressed into a thin line, before he shook his head slightly to himself.
It wasn't as though he had to clean it up. So long as she hadn't damaged anything, the house would handle the rest.
"Learn anything?" he finally asked, the faint biting tone in his words making it clear he expected no such thing from her. If drumming something into her head was as simple as reading complex research papers, they wouldn't need to have such frustrating conversations.