9th of Spring, 514 AV
18th Bell
Beyond space and time, deep somewhere in the sea of dreams, there was a land somewhere -- a place where everyone could be free. It was filled with fields of roses and the fruits of knowledge, decorating the hilltops and the streets with new excitement that was never known. Of course, this place didn't exist. Fear found a place to manifest in the human mind; in their dreams, their imagination. Fear created a billion realities, all parallel and perpendicular, all real and fake, all typical and abstract. Beyond all of these realities that mankind made in dreams, though, there was a door, reality. It was covered in black, though sometimes a crimson, and often purple. Inside of this grand structure lied Mizahar, which was all that there was. There was no land off in the clouds, no sunset beneath the sea, and not a damn soul was free. Not even the Gods were free. They slaved, all day and every day, working a mundane task that they had worked for a thousand lifetimes. They could bleed, they could be killed, they could rot with corruption and be made to fear.
Perhaps even they contributed to this inner universe of dreams and imagination, all of them hoping for a place where they could just be; they could do whatever they wanted, without a single soul to say no. True freedom was the only paradise. In an attempt to bring peace to a flawed world, humans began to suffer in new ways. Some took on shackles to live in peace. Some spent their whole lives entranced in governing and governance, believing that order made room for joy. In a million different ways, people tried to make happiness where it didn't exist. When he looked around, Caesarion could see an endless amount of suffering. He could see the torn faces of forlorn slaves, every man and woman a victim of fear. In order to live, you had to be many things. You had to be wise, capable, healthy, strong, and cynical. There was so much to fear in this world. There was so little you could trust.
In the distance, Caesarion could see Her. There was no voice like in the stories, but a strange warmth that came with the blaze of the stars. However, as strong as he could feel the pull, he did not feel ready to come look for her. The Ravokian was still lost, a boy drowning out in the deep. In truth, even as he lit candles and made vows to his Goddess, he felt very hopeless. When his eyes opened in the morning, and until they closed once more for the evening, there was a feeling. He'd been struck by this since he had been exposed to the outside world, and not even once had it gone away. It was a disillusionment from the dreams he'd had as a boy.
He wanted to adventure from jungle to desert to sea, holding sticks and hollering at the fauna across the plains. However, eventually there came a time when he realized that those dreams were shallow and hopeless. He was not a boy from a story, one who could ride on the back of a lion and save Kingdoms from witches and warlocks.
There were people in this world, so many of them. Each of them had a long and brilliant story that needed to be told, as it could help others understand why they did what they did. Caesar had a great love for people and their faces, their stories, their dreams. He wished, more than anything, that they could all have what they wanted. He would love to see a day when the world crumbled away and made something new.
This life, and this world, was not what he expected. When he left home, a question arose that had then decided to never leave him: what was next? What did he enjoy? What made him happy? What did he want? He never knew. Once upon a dream, he imagined he'd want to find some princess and raise a family by the castle. He wanted to be gallant and loving, noble and just. But then some time later he realized that he didn't want a princess, instead a prince. He didn't really like children, he preferred the company of dogs. He wasn't gallant, far from noble, though he was at least a man of justice when the mood struck. Being who he was, he couldn't imagine how he could live content. He was nothing that he wanted to be, when he thought of the days where he grew tall and strong.
18th Bell
Beyond space and time, deep somewhere in the sea of dreams, there was a land somewhere -- a place where everyone could be free. It was filled with fields of roses and the fruits of knowledge, decorating the hilltops and the streets with new excitement that was never known. Of course, this place didn't exist. Fear found a place to manifest in the human mind; in their dreams, their imagination. Fear created a billion realities, all parallel and perpendicular, all real and fake, all typical and abstract. Beyond all of these realities that mankind made in dreams, though, there was a door, reality. It was covered in black, though sometimes a crimson, and often purple. Inside of this grand structure lied Mizahar, which was all that there was. There was no land off in the clouds, no sunset beneath the sea, and not a damn soul was free. Not even the Gods were free. They slaved, all day and every day, working a mundane task that they had worked for a thousand lifetimes. They could bleed, they could be killed, they could rot with corruption and be made to fear.
Perhaps even they contributed to this inner universe of dreams and imagination, all of them hoping for a place where they could just be; they could do whatever they wanted, without a single soul to say no. True freedom was the only paradise. In an attempt to bring peace to a flawed world, humans began to suffer in new ways. Some took on shackles to live in peace. Some spent their whole lives entranced in governing and governance, believing that order made room for joy. In a million different ways, people tried to make happiness where it didn't exist. When he looked around, Caesarion could see an endless amount of suffering. He could see the torn faces of forlorn slaves, every man and woman a victim of fear. In order to live, you had to be many things. You had to be wise, capable, healthy, strong, and cynical. There was so much to fear in this world. There was so little you could trust.
In the distance, Caesarion could see Her. There was no voice like in the stories, but a strange warmth that came with the blaze of the stars. However, as strong as he could feel the pull, he did not feel ready to come look for her. The Ravokian was still lost, a boy drowning out in the deep. In truth, even as he lit candles and made vows to his Goddess, he felt very hopeless. When his eyes opened in the morning, and until they closed once more for the evening, there was a feeling. He'd been struck by this since he had been exposed to the outside world, and not even once had it gone away. It was a disillusionment from the dreams he'd had as a boy.
He wanted to adventure from jungle to desert to sea, holding sticks and hollering at the fauna across the plains. However, eventually there came a time when he realized that those dreams were shallow and hopeless. He was not a boy from a story, one who could ride on the back of a lion and save Kingdoms from witches and warlocks.
There were people in this world, so many of them. Each of them had a long and brilliant story that needed to be told, as it could help others understand why they did what they did. Caesar had a great love for people and their faces, their stories, their dreams. He wished, more than anything, that they could all have what they wanted. He would love to see a day when the world crumbled away and made something new.
This life, and this world, was not what he expected. When he left home, a question arose that had then decided to never leave him: what was next? What did he enjoy? What made him happy? What did he want? He never knew. Once upon a dream, he imagined he'd want to find some princess and raise a family by the castle. He wanted to be gallant and loving, noble and just. But then some time later he realized that he didn't want a princess, instead a prince. He didn't really like children, he preferred the company of dogs. He wasn't gallant, far from noble, though he was at least a man of justice when the mood struck. Being who he was, he couldn't imagine how he could live content. He was nothing that he wanted to be, when he thought of the days where he grew tall and strong.
