Nevermore (Solo)

[Aello]

Summer 10, 512 AV I wasted time, and now time doth waste me. She was running out of time; she had spent it. Looking for someone who wasn't even there. Her father, a man anyone had yet to see since that fateful day, countless moons past. But did that mean he even existed, or had he passed on without a word to his family, or even the other dead that had lurked in their attic? Had he chosen to start again, to forget, with the thought that each of their skins had melted into bone? Dripped alongside sinew to stain the grass. Drizzle down the sides of ashen mountains, like gravy over a bed of mashed potatoes. Or worse, had they seen each other, but failed to recognize one another? Had her body having grown from that of a child into one of a woman thrown him off? After all, her hair was much longer now, her form lithe. Her eyes all the more muddied. And he, if Lucien was still alive... his hair must have faded. Grown to the shade of wolves. His eyes too, must have lost at least a portion of their former vibrancy. No... No... Aello shook her head, he simply couldn't be alive. He was lost to them. Lost to the sands of time; as was everything she had traded trying to find him again. To feel his fingers winding between hers, even if they had no mass, and were as cold as the breath of death herself. Everything she had lost while seeking the simplicity of his smile; the last of his warmth, fleeting as it may be. She'd never have it back. She'd never have him back. The girl's hands balled into fists as her teeth clenched. She could feel the crowns grinding each other down as they fought for dominance. Her eyes having gone aflame, turning to molten chocolate. Fudge; closer in kin to sludge, than anything that may be considered sweet. They glanced down at her gnarled knuckles, twisted inwards. Long lines of finger bones pulsing, rippling as the muscles beneath her flesh bounced. Wringing out an invisible towel, held tightly against the palm. Her breath catching as she gave it another squeeze before loosening her grip, retracting the nails that had dug into fleshy beds, before returning once more. She could feel the crescents forming; bleaching her skin enough where it would match its master before reddening from the soft, throbbing pain. Aello bunched them again, releasing a sharp crack; the sound of splintering bone, although none leapt from her skin, or seemed any more out of place than they had a moment before. Almost reluctantly, as her balled fists settled onto the ends of her knees, the aurist shook her head. Sending the hair that tumbled down the length of her shoulders flying. The edges splaying across her face. Tickling her skin; as other strands stuck to her pale pink lips. Kissing; they sent tremors upwards, through her skin. It was a soft, tingling sensation. A cool air she couldn't break. Like a secret whispered in the ear by the lips of a ghost. You didn't waste it. You simply found out where he is not, Aello told herself, her voice sounding harsh despite its intent to comfort. You learned that you need to look harder if you want to find him. Or precisely what happened to him. Where his body is buried, what part of the fire took him. There was a long pause as the air around her stirred, rustling the leaves that had fallen to to the forest floor, awakening the folds of her dress. Sending them rippling about her form. "Yes, but at what cost?" she whispered, as she adjusted her folded legs beneath her, so as to be more comfortable. As her hands unfurled, displaying two scarred, upturned palms. Her eyes grazed over these instantly. She remembered how she got each- one trying to summon a ghost of Dira, another summoning a ghost of the lady of time. When would those scars fade? How long would it take before she could no longer see the constant reminder of her failure? What about the mental scars, of having failed Cassandra, her Kelvics, her goddess? Would they take the same amount of time, or far longer to heal, in that they were unseen? In that you couldn't simply apply a bandage, or some strange herbal ointment to make them disappear? With head hung, her eyes, too fell. A soft sigh escaped her lips as her fingers rolled like the waves, and then came to a grinding halt. They will never go away, will they? Aello's mind whispered, as her right hand furled. All the fingers falling in, save for one, which she ran delicately over the scar created by the time she had severed her own skin to call to Tanroa's own. "Lady time, do you not see it fit to heal this blemish? This scar? This reminder of a mortal's imperfection?" she asked, as she studied the skin around it, which was redder than anywhere else. Starting to curl; as though her palm were but a section of dough, to be kneaded into something wonderful. To her, this mark was more than a mark. It was a sign that she was no longer a child; her needs easily remedied, cures easily found whenever she obtained an ill. She had matured. She had grown old. "You're wasting me, my lady," Aello whispered. "But how could you not? You do this to everyone. Let us waste you, so that you don't feel like such a cruel mistress when you do the same to us," Aello went on, before pausing a moment as she looked up at the sky. "Or perhaps, that falls into true fairness. As harsh, and degrading as it may be. As debilitating in that it takes our breath away from us. Saps our strength. Mars our beauty, yet exposes our humanity. Our singular, mortal life. Gifted to each of us by yourself, and your maidens. One of the ladies served. Dira, of death." Aello smiled weakly then, as her eyes trailed over the winding grey clouds which hung heavily on the air. An ominous sign; a threat of another storm looming on the horizon. "There is no more time to waste for we are constantly fighting it, aren't we? Just to be sure everything can come to a close, and be done." With that, Aello came to her feet and began walking. "Yes, time is a terrible thing to waste. No matter the mirror..." OOCThe quote on the top right is one of Shakespeare's.

[Templar]

Aello: Skills: None. Lore: Wasting time waiting for miracles! – Finding your own way! Extraordinary: It was a well-made thread/post where you showed the mind of your character and determination! .