wretched day, I was forced to travel around the world, taking on many identities, one of which is Joan of Arc.”
And so, One told stories upon stories, narrating exotic lands of both pulchritude and devastation, humans separated by blood and race, and seasons of blooming flowers and of scorching heat. She apparently participated in countless ‘wars,’ which they had a vague idea by the way she expressed it. Many times as she spoke about battles, her eyes took on a dangerous gleam and her fists clenched to white-knuckled fists, causing them to cringe in sheer terror. However, the interest soon waned, like candle wax in the heat of flame. Litters went to their beds, no longer frightened by the bloody deaths of many a people. Young men, and some of the old, too, boldly surveyed at her voluptuous body and face of unrivaled perfection.
After two hundred years, the residents of Numeros were no longer so bewitched by her pale blue eyes. Suitors flocked her house every night, and each was quite unsurprisingly spurned without any second thought or remorse. Her actions caused men to complain at the Elders, about her cruelty, about her selfish actions. The rulers were forced to present her two choices: to marry one of their people or to be exiled. One coolly chose the latter, obviously preferring freedom over the compulsory whims of young men. And so, she moved outside the city, into the dark forests, into oblivion. Her decades of absence made her an esoteric figure of an esoteric legend.
One, alone in her serene paradise, began to count the passing flow of time in centuries and not years, watching as the end approached. The mountains of science that had stood for so long began to deteriorate, pouring some ‘radiation’ into the area. Of course, she was unaffected, while the others started to die quite painfully. The maiden remembered standing on the hill next to Numeros, watching as the residents below attempted to crawl their way to her, to beseech cures she did not have, to
26-Mar-2011 06:28:05
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29-Mar-2011 06:17:23
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