|
stevan's not dead.
sick, but not down for the count, not yet
he had an idea
to chronicle a certain mess in song, with allegory and metaphor, nothing like the real world at all, names changed to protect the innocent and bully alike
using the tlonian earth as its backdrop, towards the collapse of earth and the creation of tlon
no lyrics to said songs, really, but
little stories, little dialogues
betwixt the two illfated characters
"what are you thinking?!" cried he, as she strained her thoughts to creating the book on the table, the book that did not exist in the physical earth.
"that book can't exist here, it isn't real, you're cracking just like the rest of them!", he pleads to no avail.
she centres her thoughts on the table, imagining the book, worn green cover, dusty must smelling with age, the gilded title gleaming faintly in the browning light overhead.
faintly, a shape begins to appear.
"i cannot go on in this earth the way it is. i don't fit, i never did, and this is my chance, my chance at glory, at greatness, at what i had lost all those years ago. don't you see? we can be young again, we can be beautiful, together, you and i, us as one, without all the other things that killed this."
all this as the book is coming into forming, words upon words upon words writing themselves onto the parched pages, the key, the gift, its almost in her hands and she can taste the dustmotes from the pages as she turns them over with worn crackled fingers
god
i'm so pretentious
it seemed like a good idea at the time.
more on stevan dancing to come. |
