(IC) Pre-intro threads
Sep. 18th, 2012 10:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
storyofdeceptionYou are falling through nothingness. You are dissolving. You are forgetting. You are losing yourself to the void.
It is peaceful, this dissolution, this surrender.
By now the memory of your death is all you have. It fades and begins to grow dim. The void shows itself beneath it and through it.
A young man's voice says: "Once upon a time....".
The void comes no further. It halts there, on the brink of annihilation.
The voice continues speaking. The words flow through you; you feel them as much as hear them. The void begins to recede. You remember your senses. You remember your body. You understand the words even as they slip away. They are your words, your story.
The voice is speaking the story of you into the world, and that story is coming true.
The void is gone. Perhaps, as it fades, you caught a glimpse of something beautiful and true, something glorious, something beloved and impossible to describe. Perhaps not. And in any case, it is only a glimpse.
Your eyes open. You are in a library, towers of shelves rising as far as the eye can see. The young man before you has falling stars in his night-black eyes.
He smiles and closes the book he holds with a snap. On the cover is your name.
It is peaceful, this dissolution, this surrender.
By now the memory of your death is all you have. It fades and begins to grow dim. The void shows itself beneath it and through it.
A young man's voice says: "Once upon a time....".
The void comes no further. It halts there, on the brink of annihilation.
The voice continues speaking. The words flow through you; you feel them as much as hear them. The void begins to recede. You remember your senses. You remember your body. You understand the words even as they slip away. They are your words, your story.
The voice is speaking the story of you into the world, and that story is coming true.
The void is gone. Perhaps, as it fades, you caught a glimpse of something beautiful and true, something glorious, something beloved and impossible to describe. Perhaps not. And in any case, it is only a glimpse.
Your eyes open. You are in a library, towers of shelves rising as far as the eye can see. The young man before you has falling stars in his night-black eyes.
He smiles and closes the book he holds with a snap. On the cover is your name.
