Things will never be the same.
It is a little lie, we tell ourselves. That we will set out, and return, and all will be as we left it. It might even be true, at times. An old book, a memory, a special place, they can occasionally resist the flow of time. Yet even the unchanging changes. A sundial never changes, but if the sun were to stop and peek down on it from time to time, the time would never be the same. Much like the sun, we cannot stop our own orbits, and much as we would like, whenever we leave home, we cannot return to the one we have left.
“I rather wish the sun would take a peek.†Evangeline muses as she makes her way towards the middle sections of the city, chill seeping into her bones. “Ishgard could use a visit from her.â€
This section of the city was generally spared the fate of the Brume, and it was inhabited by a broad swath of peoples. Minor Nobles, successful Merchants, Government Officials, Doctors, Lawyers, professionals… those who had money, but lacked only power. Only the four ruling houses and their lapdogs could perch upon the peak of Ishgard, only they had the privilege of looking down on the rest of the city with barely concealed disdain.
She stops and shakes a fist at the higher levels, “You will get yours as well, lords of carrion!†A few passerby’s stop and stare, and at least one mother ushers away a curious child. Evangeline mutters, and placing her hands back into her pockets, trods familiar paths back to a familiar home.
The manor was roomy for the confined quarters of Ishgard, set to catch the morning sun through a series of large windows, a small garden and stable nearby within a low wall. It had been an ordeal, keeping those plants alive, with the chill and…
Evangeline pauses. Her home was buried. From the wall to the house was packed snow, dirty with soot and filth. More still lay on the roof, and only a winding muddy path to the door gave any indication of habitation at all. The neighboring houses had built their own walls higher, as if to ward off some contagion.
“Have I truly been gone so long…?†She had been away for some time, a year though? Perhaps two? Not so long as for this. Heart suddenly uncertain Evangeline steps through the gateway onto the muddy path, past dead and choked gardens, and hollow stables, holding only snow. She walks, towards something that was once her home.
It is a little lie, we tell ourselves. That we will set out, and return, and all will be as we left it. It might even be true, at times. An old book, a memory, a special place, they can occasionally resist the flow of time. Yet even the unchanging changes. A sundial never changes, but if the sun were to stop and peek down on it from time to time, the time would never be the same. Much like the sun, we cannot stop our own orbits, and much as we would like, whenever we leave home, we cannot return to the one we have left.
“I rather wish the sun would take a peek.†Evangeline muses as she makes her way towards the middle sections of the city, chill seeping into her bones. “Ishgard could use a visit from her.â€
This section of the city was generally spared the fate of the Brume, and it was inhabited by a broad swath of peoples. Minor Nobles, successful Merchants, Government Officials, Doctors, Lawyers, professionals… those who had money, but lacked only power. Only the four ruling houses and their lapdogs could perch upon the peak of Ishgard, only they had the privilege of looking down on the rest of the city with barely concealed disdain.
She stops and shakes a fist at the higher levels, “You will get yours as well, lords of carrion!†A few passerby’s stop and stare, and at least one mother ushers away a curious child. Evangeline mutters, and placing her hands back into her pockets, trods familiar paths back to a familiar home.
The manor was roomy for the confined quarters of Ishgard, set to catch the morning sun through a series of large windows, a small garden and stable nearby within a low wall. It had been an ordeal, keeping those plants alive, with the chill and…
Evangeline pauses. Her home was buried. From the wall to the house was packed snow, dirty with soot and filth. More still lay on the roof, and only a winding muddy path to the door gave any indication of habitation at all. The neighboring houses had built their own walls higher, as if to ward off some contagion.
“Have I truly been gone so long…?†She had been away for some time, a year though? Perhaps two? Not so long as for this. Heart suddenly uncertain Evangeline steps through the gateway onto the muddy path, past dead and choked gardens, and hollow stables, holding only snow. She walks, towards something that was once her home.
