P
Psychedelic
Guest
Original poster
This was worse than the terrible outdoor massacre. The frozen faces of ash were undeniably maccabre and certainly unsettling. The simple destruction of buildings that would ordinarily have stood another few hundred years at least was enough to give even the most stoic of people the chills, as was the desolate quiet of the painfully white landscape. But all this faded away when met with the horrors inside this temple.
Aila at first responded with the easier frozen shock, withdrawing back into herself as her mind and body shrieked that none of this could be possible, but she was forced back to reality at first by her nose. Without the petrification, the process of decomposition simply had no choice but to go on. The fluids that had first bloated and engorged the bodies had drained from the wailing innocents, but now remained in putrid puddles around the sagging corpses. Their faces had not been marred by curious rats, or rabid dogs. They were unscathed in that respect, although perhaps it would have been a mercy if their terror was not so easy to see. The valiant efforts of mothers attempting to protect children were obvius, and it was understandably painful to be drawn to each increasingly horrific scene.
But there were more important things than a holocaust that could not be undone. Well, at least it could not be undone in this present, there were certain steps that needed to be taken in order to destroy this potential disaster. Aila just wished she had some more guidance than the often cryptic and always daunting words of some ethereal caretaker. It was a sad fact that there was rarely an obvious waymarked path leading to a single option, it was always a battery of tangled forestry in which one had to make tiny choices resulting in changes that would radiate out through time in all sorts of unintelligible ways.
And so it was that her eyes came to rest on the coffin. Her subconscious had locked onto this place of inexorable vibrancy far before her otuward senses had caught on, always leaving that echo of curiosity and need until finally her conscious self had caught on. It had taken several minutes, perhaps due to the fact that she quite simply didn't want todeal with any of this. Aila had never had illusions of herself, and certainly did not want to anyway. She had wanted an ordinary life of criminal activity, not this insane duty to find the right path in order to keep the world from ending in the fire of hell.
Despite her reluctance, Aila found herself stepping tentatively towards the coffin, touching the smooth surface at first with some trepidation, running her fingers along it carefully as she thought on what to do next. Everything seemed to electrify in her somehow, her fear, her anger, even her simple knowledge ofbeing alive. It was perturbing in its intensity. But she stuck with this feeling, doing her utmost to lift the lid and find whatever lurked within.
Aila at first responded with the easier frozen shock, withdrawing back into herself as her mind and body shrieked that none of this could be possible, but she was forced back to reality at first by her nose. Without the petrification, the process of decomposition simply had no choice but to go on. The fluids that had first bloated and engorged the bodies had drained from the wailing innocents, but now remained in putrid puddles around the sagging corpses. Their faces had not been marred by curious rats, or rabid dogs. They were unscathed in that respect, although perhaps it would have been a mercy if their terror was not so easy to see. The valiant efforts of mothers attempting to protect children were obvius, and it was understandably painful to be drawn to each increasingly horrific scene.
But there were more important things than a holocaust that could not be undone. Well, at least it could not be undone in this present, there were certain steps that needed to be taken in order to destroy this potential disaster. Aila just wished she had some more guidance than the often cryptic and always daunting words of some ethereal caretaker. It was a sad fact that there was rarely an obvious waymarked path leading to a single option, it was always a battery of tangled forestry in which one had to make tiny choices resulting in changes that would radiate out through time in all sorts of unintelligible ways.
And so it was that her eyes came to rest on the coffin. Her subconscious had locked onto this place of inexorable vibrancy far before her otuward senses had caught on, always leaving that echo of curiosity and need until finally her conscious self had caught on. It had taken several minutes, perhaps due to the fact that she quite simply didn't want todeal with any of this. Aila had never had illusions of herself, and certainly did not want to anyway. She had wanted an ordinary life of criminal activity, not this insane duty to find the right path in order to keep the world from ending in the fire of hell.
Despite her reluctance, Aila found herself stepping tentatively towards the coffin, touching the smooth surface at first with some trepidation, running her fingers along it carefully as she thought on what to do next. Everything seemed to electrify in her somehow, her fear, her anger, even her simple knowledge ofbeing alive. It was perturbing in its intensity. But she stuck with this feeling, doing her utmost to lift the lid and find whatever lurked within.