Noaru
Spring 87, 514 A.V.
Noaru levitates in place, basking in quietude. He watched the world change as times unseen existence ebbs and flows by—desolation and solitude within the essence of refashion. He said nothing even as deer graze upon the grass before him and even as an infamous beast: the wolf lurked within the bushes nearby. Noaru watches the wolf as it watches the deer. These creatures of the cycle, predator and prey, were unaware of him—his unchanging existence basking within quietude. He watches as the wolf pounces forward and binds a deer, which was not as fortunate as its escaping friends, within its fangs. Noaru said nothing in the struggle and time passed and there was silence.
The morning turned to evening and Noaru did not move, chimes upon chimes passed and he said nothing. This was what he was before sentience, brought forth by life, came to his being. The shadows danced before the sun and his eyes and Noaru grins at their playfulness within the setting sun's light. He watched the shadows perform their perpetual dance within the light—they wave and dance, rotate and extend outwards until finally dusk closed the curtain on their performance. A tree, its bark blackened by flames extinguished long ago lived peacefully on a clearly.
There were fresh leaves growing on its branches and they said goodbye to older leaves, who were carried away by the wind. The towering tree, standing formidably on the land it called its own for years had a large opening below its chest. The opening revealed the treachery and wicked deeds of insects long gone and it served as a scar of which the world could see. Inside, it was dark. The void, sheltered from the elements by wood and bark, moves and fluctuates with living essence. This was Noaru, whom was born from what all living creatures shunned—Solitude and Desolation.
Yet, despite his origins, he embodied destiny, staying power and creation. Noaru was a testament of Mizahars power, revealing that even from the deepest depths of antipathy and from the creeping roots of melancholia. Life could spring forth and thrive. He watched the city of Sunberth, watched the sun set behind it and the sky turn from blue, to grey and to black.
Noaru emerges from the tree, his large gaseous form oozed out the opening like blood from a wound. He flies around the tree, his form coiled through the wind and air. Yes, the hour was finally his and he would roam the night instead of remaining still, as he did during the day. On branches he levitates, to oversee all he could—all that was of creation. Noaru was pleased with what he saw. A vast blanket, crowned with blazing diamonds and jewels of all colors and sorts upon the sky.
The largest of them all was quick to appear from behind a set of clouds: it illuminates the surrounding forest. Noaru could not be happier—all things were in place and he would play his part in the world, as all that he witnessed on this day did. However, before he would roam the land, he would visit the city of Sunberth and only once. The city was not like Zeltiva or Ravok, nor like Syliras or The Wildlands. Noaru could feel the restlessness of the city, sense it upon his soulmist. The night was young but the darkness was deep—he would enter without much notice.
Noaru levitates in place, basking in quietude. He watched the world change as times unseen existence ebbs and flows by—desolation and solitude within the essence of refashion. He said nothing even as deer graze upon the grass before him and even as an infamous beast: the wolf lurked within the bushes nearby. Noaru watches the wolf as it watches the deer. These creatures of the cycle, predator and prey, were unaware of him—his unchanging existence basking within quietude. He watches as the wolf pounces forward and binds a deer, which was not as fortunate as its escaping friends, within its fangs. Noaru said nothing in the struggle and time passed and there was silence.
The morning turned to evening and Noaru did not move, chimes upon chimes passed and he said nothing. This was what he was before sentience, brought forth by life, came to his being. The shadows danced before the sun and his eyes and Noaru grins at their playfulness within the setting sun's light. He watched the shadows perform their perpetual dance within the light—they wave and dance, rotate and extend outwards until finally dusk closed the curtain on their performance. A tree, its bark blackened by flames extinguished long ago lived peacefully on a clearly.
There were fresh leaves growing on its branches and they said goodbye to older leaves, who were carried away by the wind. The towering tree, standing formidably on the land it called its own for years had a large opening below its chest. The opening revealed the treachery and wicked deeds of insects long gone and it served as a scar of which the world could see. Inside, it was dark. The void, sheltered from the elements by wood and bark, moves and fluctuates with living essence. This was Noaru, whom was born from what all living creatures shunned—Solitude and Desolation.
Yet, despite his origins, he embodied destiny, staying power and creation. Noaru was a testament of Mizahars power, revealing that even from the deepest depths of antipathy and from the creeping roots of melancholia. Life could spring forth and thrive. He watched the city of Sunberth, watched the sun set behind it and the sky turn from blue, to grey and to black.
Noaru emerges from the tree, his large gaseous form oozed out the opening like blood from a wound. He flies around the tree, his form coiled through the wind and air. Yes, the hour was finally his and he would roam the night instead of remaining still, as he did during the day. On branches he levitates, to oversee all he could—all that was of creation. Noaru was pleased with what he saw. A vast blanket, crowned with blazing diamonds and jewels of all colors and sorts upon the sky.
The largest of them all was quick to appear from behind a set of clouds: it illuminates the surrounding forest. Noaru could not be happier—all things were in place and he would play his part in the world, as all that he witnessed on this day did. However, before he would roam the land, he would visit the city of Sunberth and only once. The city was not like Zeltiva or Ravok, nor like Syliras or The Wildlands. Noaru could feel the restlessness of the city, sense it upon his soulmist. The night was young but the darkness was deep—he would enter without much notice.
