Chaos is God in a system of true disorder. And I seek to my title of God, I have no care for whoever crumples to nothing in my persuit to achieve such.
An Ivory heel that dented the indomitable, a prudent woman of disillusioned morals and a sporadic life of spiral. All her grace wanted was glory, not from a crown or throng, but herself. The ivory lady pleaded with me if she was ludicrous for electing her selfish veins over the many razed faces she had never seen before. I let out a no, told her that I would've done the very same. If the strayed Ivory stood here with me as I remembered, I would've told her that her endless hiding would be under the very locality of dying.-APalace of Ulric labyrinths, Elvira Crest.
࿐SÉRAPH ࿐ |Hezkeil- September 13th, 7416|
A WOMAN OF HISTORY once said that time was a lacquer used to circle the meaning of one's temporary life, a canvas of white that was volatile banking to the observer's hued outlook into the pigments of the universe. The blushed ribbons that would carve someone present, past, and future were mere visions made to make simple of the unknowns of life.
The problem was that life's unknowns were anything but simple.
Puzzling it together, reality was forever a haunting limitless, substantiveness, and multiple other things Séraph understood to be amazingly false as her young feet guided her through the dying patch of green that trembled dully over her father's garden. If reality truly was so motley, why did she feel so trapped? For Séraph, there was no past for her to clasp onto, no future that wasn't overcast, but just a singular present that made her feel so drowningly excluded.
Lulled silence wrapped her auxiliary section of the garden. Once in a while, little strange creatures popped up to make their presence know, though none stood around long enough for little Séraph to get a good view. The many unique animals her town had was one of the only reasons she enjoyed it here. Pure nature-She doubted she could get that kind of climate anywhere else. The whirling central cities of rich owned planets only had space for humans, machines and money, not hungry little creatures.
The falling sun blazed orange against the world, it's signature riddling almost every inch of exposed air. It would be a lie if Séraph told you it wasn't beautiful. The girl saw the same sun collapse below sightline every day, yet she couldn't help the buttery feeling of her heart melting every time she saw it. Some brilliance was just made to be appreciated for life.
Séraph could only watch on as far twinkles of conveyance thrusters soared across the high sky, becoming one with the reddish-yellow sky. She pondered the life that drove the machine, how different their life was compared to her short one. She hoped that one day, she'd be inside one of those passing vehicles, enabling another to wonder about her life.
