For [livejournal.com profile] lackofjoy; PSL-type thing.

Apr. 20th, 2010 12:01 pm
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Even now, Cyrus couldn't say what he was doing there.

Everything was familiar, and later, when he reflected on it, he would assume that was why he had come back; the cold unfamiliarity of the Distortion World had been an odd source of solace for a while - the silence and solitude had proven peaceful, and for a while he had stayed. Seeing others, being made to return to the world he had failed to recreate...it would have been too much, he suspects. At least at the time.

But the tranquility was only tolerable for so long; after a while, it had started to feel less like peace and more like stagnation.

His return to this world had been tedious, but not overly difficult; there were places in that world where the fabric between it and the next wore thin, and the portals that had been made previously seemed unwilling to be rendered closed - it was a matter of finding them. The odd sense of the passage of time had been the only thing to greet him upon his return; he still isn't sure how long he had gone without feeling it.

His return to Sunyshore City had been similarly quiet, unannounced and without fanfare. It had been years since he'd last seen it; as far as he's concerned, the city is still a wasteland, and no amount of technological advances would change that - at the same time, there's a deep sense of familiarity behind the sights of the place. The lighthouse still looks out over the coastline, like a sentry protecting its keep, and the houses atop the hills are still standing; though he pauses for a moment to study the first structure, he remains well clear of the second.

The quiet rushing of the waves is audible throughout most of the city, but it's nothing compared to standing near the water's edge itself; in the end, Cyrus finds himself there, surrounded by white sand and the tide, the hills and cliffs of the city at his back. The ebb and flow of the surf is both constant and ever-changing, drawing forth a sense of both tranquility and respect; there was also the tendency for the place to be barren, left untouched by visitors in favor of the marketplace or the gym, and the locals tended to take its presence for granted. It's different than the solitary coldness of the Distortion World; this place is natural, alive, and though he knows the silence will be broken soon enough, it's still early - he imagines that he'll have had time enough to have figured out what to do with the presence of others by the time it becomes relevant.

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Cyrus

April 2011

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