Post by Tybresa Farrister-Cassalantar on Nov 9, 2013 7:52:20 GMT -5
8th November, the Senior Steward’s Office, Institute of War …
The pen moved smoothly across the paper, the Senior Steward diligently working on the report only to finally sign it and place it on the stack of papers already done and ready to be sent out.
She looked to her left, her free hand automatically raised and ready to pull the next sheet in line only to actually surprise herself at the empty space there. No more paperwork? she found herself thinking, as if she was completely and hopelessly lost without the mind-numbing goal to fulfill at hand.
Indeed, months and months of filing paperwork in the solitude of her office had quite the mind-dulling and soul-killing effect ... but it was nothing short of what she actually intended. It was the only method she found some sort of solace in - the only way she could numb the pain.
"Hmm..." Tybresa hummed out thoughtfully as she set the pen back on the desk, her movements slow and clumsy, almost awkward. She felt like she wanted to stand up from her desk and walk around, but then not quite - Is there nothing I can do right now? She aimlessly shuffled through the stack of already-completed reports, double-checking to see whether she had missed one or not - which she didn't. Her goal, for the moment, was completed and with nothing to follow it through.
She stood up from her seat and walked around the desk, stretching her body as she did so, feeling her muscles throb painfully from the extended periods of sedentary, with her back letting out a satisfying cracking sound. The Senior Steward stopped in the center of her office, absentmindedly looking around, as if it was the first time she actually noticed the room, with its peach-colored walls and tasteful furnishing - a large bookcase here, a couch and a table there, the rapier still pinned on the wall above the aforementioned couch, while the paintings looked just as distant and beautiful from their hanging places. In overall, the Senior Steward's Office offered a pleasant sight to the recently-arrived visitor.
But ... something was missing, Tybresa realized. She walked towards the window where there were once several pots of snow-white lilies, their perfume so sweet it was intoxicating if you got too close. But now, the flowers were gone - she remembered that they eventually wilted and died despite her best attempts at resurrecting them. The only thing that remained from their once-permanent presence was the sweet fragrance subtly tickling one’s nostrils, still lingering in the room and the noticeable circles left by the flower pots on the wooden windowsill.
The woman ran her fingers over the faint circle outlines imprinted on the wood, a confused expression on her face. How come I don't remember this happening ...? She had faint memories of the flowers, of their beautiful, bell-shaped petals, the vibrancy of their leaves and all the times she had sneezed whenever the summer breeze brought their perfume to tickle her nose -...
She looked outside the window now - the weather was quite frightful, autumn reluctantly leaving only to allow winter to gradually take over the landscape - the trees have all but lost their canopies of emerald, their precious gems now gathered into small piles of decomposing gold by the diligent groundskeepers. Their branches were empty and depressing, like the skeletal hands of men, women and children that reached out towards the sky, crying out their anguish for the heavens to see and hear. Where the colorful flowerbeds could once be seen peeking their sleepy heads out towards the morning sun to thrill the viewer's senses were now empty and brown, the seeds planted deep beneath the soil in preparation for next spring. Perhaps the only thing in the entire landscape that was too stubborn to let go of its color was the grass, but …
It was more a depressing and disconcerting sight than anything - and it also came as a great shock to Tybresa, who stared outside with a dumbfound expression.
Where did it all go? She asked herself. Was it not summer but a few weeks ago ... Oh Heavens, I ... I don't remember.
The sudden revelation - that time had moved on, while she was standing still in the confines of her office shocked and terrified her, making her take a step back while entwining her hands together across her chest. It was only now that she realized how ... out of place she felt in concordance with the outside world, what with everything visibly changing under the whims of time while she was still here... same old and barely unchanged, as if time had forgotten her completely.
Have I not changed, at all? The question bitterly rang through her mind as she pressed her hands over her chest, where she could faintly feel the beating of her heart toil, on and on. A shallow breath escaped past her lips as she moved back to her desk with uncharacteristic lethargy, more like a puppet who was struggling to move under the clumsy guidance of a drunken puppeteer. Tybresa sat down back at her desk, only to prop her elbows on its surface and hold her head in her hands - she felt so hollow inside, so purposeless and lost. Her thoughts were empty, the void within filled by the rhythmic drumming of her pulse, imagining the sound of her heart's continuous beating. It almost made her believe that she was still alive.
I'm still alive - barely breathing, but ... alive. And I'm still here.
But for how long?
(( Yohoo! Do people still remember me? I'm at fault, of course - I admit I've experienced a bit of interest-loss in whatever projects I still had here, though that didn't necessarily mean I left completely. I'm sorry for appearing inactive - I suppose I was simply waiting for my muse to return to me.
And she did, more or less! Anyway, here's to hoping that I'll stick around more actively than in the last couple of months. Let's get this show back on the road, hmm? ))
The pen moved smoothly across the paper, the Senior Steward diligently working on the report only to finally sign it and place it on the stack of papers already done and ready to be sent out.
She looked to her left, her free hand automatically raised and ready to pull the next sheet in line only to actually surprise herself at the empty space there. No more paperwork? she found herself thinking, as if she was completely and hopelessly lost without the mind-numbing goal to fulfill at hand.
Indeed, months and months of filing paperwork in the solitude of her office had quite the mind-dulling and soul-killing effect ... but it was nothing short of what she actually intended. It was the only method she found some sort of solace in - the only way she could numb the pain.
"Hmm..." Tybresa hummed out thoughtfully as she set the pen back on the desk, her movements slow and clumsy, almost awkward. She felt like she wanted to stand up from her desk and walk around, but then not quite - Is there nothing I can do right now? She aimlessly shuffled through the stack of already-completed reports, double-checking to see whether she had missed one or not - which she didn't. Her goal, for the moment, was completed and with nothing to follow it through.
She stood up from her seat and walked around the desk, stretching her body as she did so, feeling her muscles throb painfully from the extended periods of sedentary, with her back letting out a satisfying cracking sound. The Senior Steward stopped in the center of her office, absentmindedly looking around, as if it was the first time she actually noticed the room, with its peach-colored walls and tasteful furnishing - a large bookcase here, a couch and a table there, the rapier still pinned on the wall above the aforementioned couch, while the paintings looked just as distant and beautiful from their hanging places. In overall, the Senior Steward's Office offered a pleasant sight to the recently-arrived visitor.
But ... something was missing, Tybresa realized. She walked towards the window where there were once several pots of snow-white lilies, their perfume so sweet it was intoxicating if you got too close. But now, the flowers were gone - she remembered that they eventually wilted and died despite her best attempts at resurrecting them. The only thing that remained from their once-permanent presence was the sweet fragrance subtly tickling one’s nostrils, still lingering in the room and the noticeable circles left by the flower pots on the wooden windowsill.
The woman ran her fingers over the faint circle outlines imprinted on the wood, a confused expression on her face. How come I don't remember this happening ...? She had faint memories of the flowers, of their beautiful, bell-shaped petals, the vibrancy of their leaves and all the times she had sneezed whenever the summer breeze brought their perfume to tickle her nose -...
She looked outside the window now - the weather was quite frightful, autumn reluctantly leaving only to allow winter to gradually take over the landscape - the trees have all but lost their canopies of emerald, their precious gems now gathered into small piles of decomposing gold by the diligent groundskeepers. Their branches were empty and depressing, like the skeletal hands of men, women and children that reached out towards the sky, crying out their anguish for the heavens to see and hear. Where the colorful flowerbeds could once be seen peeking their sleepy heads out towards the morning sun to thrill the viewer's senses were now empty and brown, the seeds planted deep beneath the soil in preparation for next spring. Perhaps the only thing in the entire landscape that was too stubborn to let go of its color was the grass, but …
It was more a depressing and disconcerting sight than anything - and it also came as a great shock to Tybresa, who stared outside with a dumbfound expression.
Where did it all go? She asked herself. Was it not summer but a few weeks ago ... Oh Heavens, I ... I don't remember.
The sudden revelation - that time had moved on, while she was standing still in the confines of her office shocked and terrified her, making her take a step back while entwining her hands together across her chest. It was only now that she realized how ... out of place she felt in concordance with the outside world, what with everything visibly changing under the whims of time while she was still here... same old and barely unchanged, as if time had forgotten her completely.
Have I not changed, at all? The question bitterly rang through her mind as she pressed her hands over her chest, where she could faintly feel the beating of her heart toil, on and on. A shallow breath escaped past her lips as she moved back to her desk with uncharacteristic lethargy, more like a puppet who was struggling to move under the clumsy guidance of a drunken puppeteer. Tybresa sat down back at her desk, only to prop her elbows on its surface and hold her head in her hands - she felt so hollow inside, so purposeless and lost. Her thoughts were empty, the void within filled by the rhythmic drumming of her pulse, imagining the sound of her heart's continuous beating. It almost made her believe that she was still alive.
I'm still alive - barely breathing, but ... alive. And I'm still here.
But for how long?
(( Yohoo! Do people still remember me? I'm at fault, of course - I admit I've experienced a bit of interest-loss in whatever projects I still had here, though that didn't necessarily mean I left completely. I'm sorry for appearing inactive - I suppose I was simply waiting for my muse to return to me.
And she did, more or less! Anyway, here's to hoping that I'll stick around more actively than in the last couple of months. Let's get this show back on the road, hmm? ))
