[[After lieing down it didn’t take him long to doze off, and Mirvon fell asleep]]
Mirvon found himself standing in the middle of the Avenue of Trade, where he had strolled through earlier that morning. The boulevard was empty, there was absolutely no sign of life, there were no people walking through the Avenue, no salesman, no vendors, all the shops seemed to have disappeared. It was as if the Avenue of Trade had never even existed, no proof of its existence was left. After looking around for quite some time, making sure there was absolutely nothing there, he began to wonder. Would the rest of the city be empty, lifeless as well? Maybe, just maybe I can go to that garden, the garden of the One .
He started walking towards the Basilica Dominici, but he grew impatient and began to run. There was no one in the streets, the houses seemed abandoned, all he heard was water spraying out of some of the fountains. He was all alone, he smiled…no, he grinned! He would have the garden of the One to himself! It’d be his and his alone; the garden of a god would belong to him, a Half-Giant, a Sand Dweller! Suddenly it hit him, What if they returned? What if by the time he got to the chapel all the people of King’s Court had returned and picked up there normal lives? He ran faster, as fast as he could. He had to, he just had to reach the garden before anyone got back, even if it was for a mere flicker, he needed the garden to be his for a flicker! Just a flicker!
In just a few burns he reached the Basilica, out of breath and completely exhausted he dragged himself towards the gate. There it was, the garden, completely abandoned! He felt something he had never even imagined possible; he was happy, truly happy! He stumbled towards the grass. He’d claim it, claim it to be his own! He put his left foot on the grass…Something felt wrong, he just knew it. This wasn’t grass, he looked down; the piece of grass he had stepped on had turned to sand, light brown desert sand! Before his eyes the garden began to fall apart, flowers became brown and began to hang, the turned to sand and fell apart. In a few flickers the whole garden had turned to sand, Mirvon fell to his knees. I only wanted it to be mine, just for a flicker…
He looked around; the contours of the Basilica began to fade. The whole city shattered like glass, and melted as snow for the sun. All that was left was sand, he was back where it all started, the desert. As far as his eyes could see he saw sand, nothing but sand! He cried, he did something he had never done before, he actually cried. The young Sand Dweller wept like an infant. He lost track of time, he just sat there… Weeping.
For marks on end he wept, asking the gods why, blaming himself. When he finally stopped crying he noticed a red glow in the distance. He stood up and ran towards it, as fast as his feet could carry him, when he got closer the glow became stronger. Could it be? The Red Warrior? Now he realised what had happened, he had left the desert in ignorance, in selfishness and although The Father had stood by him on his journey, he hadn’t thanked him once. When he reached the city and was let in, he had given himself credit for it. Then when he saw the garden of the Basilica it had amazed him! He had thought of the One as grand and had pushed the image of The Red Warrior aside. He had betrayed himself, his faith and his people. Mirvon tried to speak, but couldn’t find the words. When he blinked the red glow had disappeared and he was back in King’s Court, in the middle of the Avenue of Trade, burning of activity. It was as it should be and he thanked the Warrior for his blessing, he strolled through the Avenue as he had done before and admired the goods being sold there.
Garden Of the One (Chyril 23rd GT)
Moderator: Mods
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Guest
Garden Of the One (Chyril 23rd GT)
Last edited by Guest on Tue Oct 09, 2007 5:57 pm, edited 7 times in total.
(OOC: If you don't mind me wandering into your dream...)
Bram Beacon stood looking over the familiar vista of the Avenue of Trade, a little dazedly. Something ain't right. Sure, all the buildings were there, just as he remembered him. And the crowds looked pretty much the same as they always did. He ought to know: Bram might have lived in the poor quarter for most of his adult life, but he'd worked on the Avenue of Trade. Only now something was wrong. He had this weird certainty that he wasn't supposed to be here. Yeah, that's it. When he really thought about it, he had these vague memories of moving away... of being chased out of the damn place by the Vanguard. He seemed to recall taking on a new name, a new look, and a whole new life someplace far away.
Slowly the human raised a hand to run it over his brow. Surprise, surprise. Instead of encountering the recently-shaved scalp that he'd expected, he found himself running his fingers through a full head of thick, brown hair. Further inspection found his face clean-shaven. Totally ass backwards of the way it should be. Like I've gone back in time or something. Indeed, when Bram hesitantly glanced down at his left arm, he found further evidence that something was amiss. Just an inch or two above his left wrist, where it could be easily concealed by his sleeve, was a black armband stitched with the crude red image of a burning man. His old gang's sign. Except that Bram was fairly sure he wasn't a member in good standing of the Burning Crimson Fire Bandits anymore, for reasons that momentarily eluded him.
So, this must be a dream. Or else all that other stuff was.
No reason to let that bother him, though. Bram Beacon wasn't one to waste a lot of time standing around and moping. It didn't take him long to notice a young half-giant whelp nearly two feet taller than he was.
"Well, ho-lee shit," he greeted the man aloud. "A half-giant in King's Court. You don't see that every day." Bram flashed his merry grin. "Or rather, I don't see that every day. But of course you do. Every time you look into a mirror." A friendly sort by and large, setting aside his unsavory profession, Bram swaggered on up to Mirvon in his usual carefree manner. "You new to this city, buddy?"
Bram Beacon stood looking over the familiar vista of the Avenue of Trade, a little dazedly. Something ain't right. Sure, all the buildings were there, just as he remembered him. And the crowds looked pretty much the same as they always did. He ought to know: Bram might have lived in the poor quarter for most of his adult life, but he'd worked on the Avenue of Trade. Only now something was wrong. He had this weird certainty that he wasn't supposed to be here. Yeah, that's it. When he really thought about it, he had these vague memories of moving away... of being chased out of the damn place by the Vanguard. He seemed to recall taking on a new name, a new look, and a whole new life someplace far away.
Slowly the human raised a hand to run it over his brow. Surprise, surprise. Instead of encountering the recently-shaved scalp that he'd expected, he found himself running his fingers through a full head of thick, brown hair. Further inspection found his face clean-shaven. Totally ass backwards of the way it should be. Like I've gone back in time or something. Indeed, when Bram hesitantly glanced down at his left arm, he found further evidence that something was amiss. Just an inch or two above his left wrist, where it could be easily concealed by his sleeve, was a black armband stitched with the crude red image of a burning man. His old gang's sign. Except that Bram was fairly sure he wasn't a member in good standing of the Burning Crimson Fire Bandits anymore, for reasons that momentarily eluded him.
So, this must be a dream. Or else all that other stuff was.
No reason to let that bother him, though. Bram Beacon wasn't one to waste a lot of time standing around and moping. It didn't take him long to notice a young half-giant whelp nearly two feet taller than he was.
"Well, ho-lee shit," he greeted the man aloud. "A half-giant in King's Court. You don't see that every day." Bram flashed his merry grin. "Or rather, I don't see that every day. But of course you do. Every time you look into a mirror." A friendly sort by and large, setting aside his unsavory profession, Bram swaggered on up to Mirvon in his usual carefree manner. "You new to this city, buddy?"
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Guest
(OOC: Don't mind at all, was hoping someone would.)
Walking through the Avenue he was greeted by some human, he looked down upon the man, nodding in reply.
Mirvon was a bit surprised with the sociability of the man, in his flawed human tongue he replied: "Yes, came here today."
He inspected the man, who was fairly young, not more than 10 yahren older than he was. The human seemed somewhat hardened, he appeared as though he knew every single street in the city, knew every face. Mirvon was curious as to what the man was up to.
"...You..live here?"
Walking through the Avenue he was greeted by some human, he looked down upon the man, nodding in reply.
"Well, ho-lee shit," he greeted the man aloud. "A half-giant in King's Court. You don't see that every day." Bram flashed his merry grin. "Or rather, I don't see that every day. But of course you do. Every time you look into a mirror." A friendly sort by and large, setting aside his unsavory profession, Bram swaggered on up to Mirvon in his usual carefree manner. "You new to this city, buddy?"
Mirvon was a bit surprised with the sociability of the man, in his flawed human tongue he replied: "Yes, came here today."
He inspected the man, who was fairly young, not more than 10 yahren older than he was. The human seemed somewhat hardened, he appeared as though he knew every single street in the city, knew every face. Mirvon was curious as to what the man was up to.
"...You..live here?"
"Live here?" Bram ran a hand through his hair (feels strange, somehow), frowning slightly. He had years upon years of very real memories which indicated that the answer was 'Yes.' However, the human also had other, somewhat fuzzier memories which he thought would lead him to believe otherwise. He couldn't quite figure out what it all meant, except that this both was and was not the city he knew. "Born and raised here," he said at last, dodging the question to some extent. "Lived here for years, in fact. Show you around if you like... though this weren't the part of town that was home to me."
The human gestured expansively to their surroundings. The thriving Avenue of Trade... a place of vibrant life and bright color, at least compared to the poor quarter, with which Bram was much more familiar. To his dreaming eyes, this place was larger than life, the colors brighter and yet somehow colder than they had ever been in the waking world. The people in the street shuffled by slowly and with placid, stupid eyes, like so much cattle. Most carried out-sized purses and wore overly fine clothing, more like caricatures than people. Here and there a member of the Vanguard paced wolfishly, dressed nearly as finely as the civilians in their crisp uniforms, but sneering down on passers-by indiscriminately. Even the buildings began to look strange and imposing, more like rich fortresses than mere shops.
Such was the way that Bram Beacon had always seen this street of the city... at least in his heart of hearts.
The human gestured expansively to their surroundings. The thriving Avenue of Trade... a place of vibrant life and bright color, at least compared to the poor quarter, with which Bram was much more familiar. To his dreaming eyes, this place was larger than life, the colors brighter and yet somehow colder than they had ever been in the waking world. The people in the street shuffled by slowly and with placid, stupid eyes, like so much cattle. Most carried out-sized purses and wore overly fine clothing, more like caricatures than people. Here and there a member of the Vanguard paced wolfishly, dressed nearly as finely as the civilians in their crisp uniforms, but sneering down on passers-by indiscriminately. Even the buildings began to look strange and imposing, more like rich fortresses than mere shops.
Such was the way that Bram Beacon had always seen this street of the city... at least in his heart of hearts.