Through the Looking Glass [Q]
Aug 28, 2011 19:40:54 GMT -8
Post by Trigga on Aug 28, 2011 19:40:54 GMT -8
When did life take on the appearance of cruelty? A menace to thousands and exasperation to millions; an existence filled solely with premeditated frustration and odd formalities that most couldn’t accept. If death was the ultimate rest that all could eventually meet in time, what was the experience that everyone was certain? Was death this omnipresent experience? Something as morbid and disheartening as the escape from existence was the only thing everyone had to look forward to? Where was the positivity that came with life? Fame, riches, love, friendship—none of this was guaranteed; so the question posed now was, how many did have the luxury of looking forward to this?
Night had infected the heavens that rested above Mizu no kuni. The once subtle, elegant blue that swept across the expanse above now took on a more colorful silhouette; sharing its omnipresent purple with the intermittent streaks of orange as the sun ventured elsewhere for the evening. The moon gradually taking its place in the sky, the animal populace just outside the Village soon retired to their own homes for now. The day was over and following suit with the interactions that had taken place since before recorded history, those showing signs of exhaustions slept.
Traveling through the village streets, escaping the comforts of the tiled sidewalks and the dim lights of the closing stores, one would pass the bazaar and residential districts, soon coming up to the Hotel district. An elite environment for the traveling warriors or commoners showed keen indications of wealth and stature. Beautiful as it was, even to the plant life that slept with a fine-looking in both color and texture, everything wasn’t so pleasant within the Compound.
Within one of the rooms, namely the temporary residence of Uchiha Ryūsuke—Konoha’s Crimson Fang and advancing Genin, something was bizarrely off. Advancing through his manor, climbing the staircase that led to the second level of his home and turning to the right, sliding back the wooden obstructions, one would find the Uchiha tossing and turning nauseatingly in his bed. Face drenched in sweat, as his clothes were uncomfortably coiled and strapped to his body from the constant shifting. Eyes closed, stripping the world of their //violet splendor, mumbles and murmurs escaped the boy’s lips. As if suspended in an alternate plain of existence, the only logical conclusion was—he was dreaming.