✧════════════════✧Too Late To Crawl✧═════════════════✧
✧═════════════✧When A Casket Is Your Cradle✧═════════════✧
0:08 ❍─────────── 3:39
ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮
Here Come The Wolves - Lola Blanc
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Gem encrusted icarus
A tale of hubris is always a tragedy, really. It always ends with someone's doom.
But doom doesn't always mean death. It can be worse.
Imagine this: You're at a party, having a good time. Eventually, someone taps you on the shoulder, saying that you have to leave. The party isn't over, no, it will continue without you, and there isn't anything you can do to stay.
Sounds bad, right? What if I want to stay? Well, too bad, you have to leave. No stopping it, only delaying. Delaying. Delaying.
Now, to think about it this way, imagine that the party is in full swing, you're having a great time. Then, someone taps you on the shoulder. Not to kick you out, but to say that you can't leave, they won't let you. Everyone else will get a tap on their shoulder, telling them their fun is over, but you? You're stuck there, being told you aren't allowed to leave, missing your loved ones who left long ago. Eventually the venue is abandoned, no more partygoers coming in. It starts to decay, rain coming in through the ceiling and ivy on the walls. Then the venue is gone aswell. No more party, partygoers, or anything. The only thing left is you, and you still can't leave. You're stuck there, being the only thing left in an empty lot.
Then the lot is redeveloped, turned into something new. A different party starts, and the unfamiliar faces aren't the same as yours anymore. At first they were lions, like you and I, but now they're something else. No one seems to see you as anything different then them, so maybe its just you who's odd, losing your mind from decades... decades? No, thats not right. Losing your mind from however long it's been, years are days and centuries are years, it doesn't matter anymore.
That's how I am. Pearl In White Sands, a name very few remember. I don't even remember how to leave this odd tomb. Is it even real? I wish I knew. Walls of pink fog around me, backing away as I run closer. An endless ground of maroon grass, matted into a soft nest. Whereever I step, a skull clatters under my paws. Only a matter of time until mine joins them, stuck in this liminal hell that I built to keep time out.
It doesn't work, if you were wondering. There is no way to stop time, the Hushwood gets what it wants, no matter what. Time doesn't abandon anything, like a dragon sitting atop it's eternally growing hoard. Every life a coin, every object a gem, everything in this forest is a trophy in it's lair, and it is never a wise idea to try and take something.
Or, Sovereign forbid, free yourself. Because you won't be free. You will be stuck, just in a different prison, with no escape. You will rot in a jail that you constructed around yourself, thinking you would be liberated from the clutches of the temporal reptile holding your gold coin in it's claws.
Only to end up like me, as free as a bird in a birdcage. Singing a song that falls on deaf ears.
Good luck, traveler. If you're hearing this, you either made the mistake I did, or I repented for my foolishness.
But I can tell, from the way you entered this forest, that you are equally as trapped as I am. There is no escape. This forest is time. You can only move forward. Standing still is not an option. Going backwards will destroy you. Dying is not the worse option, living forever is a honey-coated venom. |
