Warren had lost count of how long it had been since he'd found the words, taken the steps. It was blissful nights and lengthy days, time defined not only by action but by inaction, the sort of ephemeral passage of sun and moon that your mind blends together when remembering something from years ago, perhaps happy memories from your childhood. Those endless summer days and moonlit nights. Happiness of the eternal variety, even if eternity takes breaks now and then.
Castille had been functionally doing his sworn duty in Ul'dah for some weeks and despite the fact he no longer stayed centralized in the Quicksand, he could see that his ride on cloud nine was coming to a finish. While he had been away there had been serious going-ons, and for a time he wondered if he'd been involved at all if he would have been able to do anything to avert the shift in the status. He had returned to a world that somehow seemed wrong, like his memories had a definite Before and After and they were only tangentially connected in the middle somewhere. The lay of the land had settled and turned while his eye was turned away.
The story was the same but the characters were different. Civil unrest. Hushed whispers of conspiracy. Intentional blacking out of documents and investigations. More and more the cruel gaze of the world focused on his corner of the world, and now the currents were starting to sweep away the things not nailed down. It was the way the world seemingly operated, but Warren felt that he had to stand against the rushing tide.
Any respite, regardless of how well-earned or how hard-fought, ends eventually. The downtime afforded to someone between the defining moments of their lives is ever brief. Every intermission must end before the story can progress.
Castille had been functionally doing his sworn duty in Ul'dah for some weeks and despite the fact he no longer stayed centralized in the Quicksand, he could see that his ride on cloud nine was coming to a finish. While he had been away there had been serious going-ons, and for a time he wondered if he'd been involved at all if he would have been able to do anything to avert the shift in the status. He had returned to a world that somehow seemed wrong, like his memories had a definite Before and After and they were only tangentially connected in the middle somewhere. The lay of the land had settled and turned while his eye was turned away.
The story was the same but the characters were different. Civil unrest. Hushed whispers of conspiracy. Intentional blacking out of documents and investigations. More and more the cruel gaze of the world focused on his corner of the world, and now the currents were starting to sweep away the things not nailed down. It was the way the world seemingly operated, but Warren felt that he had to stand against the rushing tide.
Any respite, regardless of how well-earned or how hard-fought, ends eventually. The downtime afforded to someone between the defining moments of their lives is ever brief. Every intermission must end before the story can progress.
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
