Post by Deleted on May 3, 2013 11:07:03 GMT -5
A long stretch of beach line. Beautiful sand dunes and a coastline with a view to die for. Beneath the dune, roughly two hundred feet down lies a small cavern with a noisy generator and dozens of pictures on a wall. Maewynn doesn't mind the generator, it's almost as if it keeps him company. Anyone passing by along the surface wouldn't happen to hear it unless they pressed their ear down the ground and kept quiet. He felt safe this way. He felt no fear at this location. This was one of his sanctuaries and he loved it.
He had just jumped back a luxurious bathroom that he often visits. His hair was wet due to the fact that he had just finished showering. While he dried off and began dressing, he thought about this sanctuary and how he might even defend it. His eyes glanced over to a small corridor beside the generator, they fall upon a large rectangular box. It had a fine finish of chestnut... Probably the only he hadn't taken and probably his greatest possession. He holds the case in his hand and thinks back to a time in his life were he hadn't been running. His mind becomes cluttered with memories of a past that he hadn't seen in 12 years, a past that he'd give anything to see once again. He softly wiped the dust from the case and set it down. Taking off his glasses, he leans back against the cavern's wall and sighs. If there's any place a jumper couldn't go, it would most assuredly be the one place that is always in his mind - the past.
'Memories are fickle. We never can grasp one without creating another' He re-sets his thick frames to his face and runs his fingers through his hair. Without any other thought, he picks up the case and opens it, as he had done many times before.
A long, almost antique sword was pulled from it. The sword was absolutely beautiful. A golden finish on the handle and a blue tint along the blade. The blade was long, almost 4 feet long, with a slight resemblance to a cleaver, but much slimmer. He often believe it would be called a katana, but had long since referred to it as a Schwert. The handles quillon curved from it's base towards the blade with an intricate, yet square-ish design. The blade was extremely sharp, he had never gone looking for a fight though.... and he probably never will. With great care, he lowered his possession into it's case, just below the sheath that had been lying beside it the entire time.
After closing the case, his feet carried him over to the wall of photos and viewed one especially. It was of a great palace. A man lived there that once felt gratitude towards Maewynn for something he had done. Maewynn remembers receiving the sword from the man in person. With each day that passes, Mae never forgets it. The day that he holds high over every other, but yet again... Memories are fickle and there still more in creation.
He jumped to the surface and sat down with a drink in his hand, staring out over the water. There were certain times in his life where had enjoyed solitude. However, it would certainly be nice to be lonely with someone else.
He had just jumped back a luxurious bathroom that he often visits. His hair was wet due to the fact that he had just finished showering. While he dried off and began dressing, he thought about this sanctuary and how he might even defend it. His eyes glanced over to a small corridor beside the generator, they fall upon a large rectangular box. It had a fine finish of chestnut... Probably the only he hadn't taken and probably his greatest possession. He holds the case in his hand and thinks back to a time in his life were he hadn't been running. His mind becomes cluttered with memories of a past that he hadn't seen in 12 years, a past that he'd give anything to see once again. He softly wiped the dust from the case and set it down. Taking off his glasses, he leans back against the cavern's wall and sighs. If there's any place a jumper couldn't go, it would most assuredly be the one place that is always in his mind - the past.
'Memories are fickle. We never can grasp one without creating another' He re-sets his thick frames to his face and runs his fingers through his hair. Without any other thought, he picks up the case and opens it, as he had done many times before.
A long, almost antique sword was pulled from it. The sword was absolutely beautiful. A golden finish on the handle and a blue tint along the blade. The blade was long, almost 4 feet long, with a slight resemblance to a cleaver, but much slimmer. He often believe it would be called a katana, but had long since referred to it as a Schwert. The handles quillon curved from it's base towards the blade with an intricate, yet square-ish design. The blade was extremely sharp, he had never gone looking for a fight though.... and he probably never will. With great care, he lowered his possession into it's case, just below the sheath that had been lying beside it the entire time.
After closing the case, his feet carried him over to the wall of photos and viewed one especially. It was of a great palace. A man lived there that once felt gratitude towards Maewynn for something he had done. Maewynn remembers receiving the sword from the man in person. With each day that passes, Mae never forgets it. The day that he holds high over every other, but yet again... Memories are fickle and there still more in creation.
He jumped to the surface and sat down with a drink in his hand, staring out over the water. There were certain times in his life where had enjoyed solitude. However, it would certainly be nice to be lonely with someone else.
