Not me still not entirely figured out how to end this, I have it somewhat planned out but yknowww.
Something in Scar stirred. His eternal sleep was interrupted by a strange pulling of his brain. A strange warmth spread across his body, he felt for the first time in a while that somebody wanted him.
He wasn't sure if his body even worked any more considering how long he had been sleeping, letting his body become one with the soft ground. Yet he still slowly moved one finger on his right hand. The leaves and dirt around it eventually moved out of the enough that he could flex his finger.
Carefully he went around methodically moving each finger one his right hand then his left. Once he loosened up his hands he moved onto his feet. Inch by inch he loosened up each part of his body.
Slowly he worked his way through the soft dirt until his body broke the surface and the sun that shone through the top of tree hit his pasty skin and warmed his weakened soul. Finally he opened his eyes, the slate and built up gunk slowly gave and let the eyelids open. A weak smile graced his face as he looked at the blinding sun. The light feeling new and fresh, like the first spring morning and the cold still hangs in the air yet everything feels fresh and new.
He looks towards the sky, it's so far away and such a small pinprick in the very top of a infinitely tall tree. An infinitly tall tree he's stuck in, held between worlds by a strange kind of death. Sure he died but he isn't dead, he's just here stuck inbetween two worlds. Maybe the watchers put him here, though the watchers are just myths but so was the afterlife yet here he was so he had no idea what to believe anymore.
He huffed, inhaling the stale air deep into his body. He remembered the stories about the watchers, he remembered when his grandmother would sit down in front of the fire and tell him the wildest stories. She told them like they were fact and she had been there to see it, creating worlds in front of his young eyes. There was always something off about her, she had this air around her that made you feel like she knew far more then she let on.
He didn't know why but her stories about the watchers were always his favourite, hearing about these beings that stood above the fabric of player and non player. They were almost all powerful the only things they couldn't control being death and life, those were the crows domains anyway. The watchers could make the moon rise late or the sun come up double, they could make the time and space around them shift, shaping it into worlds and games.
She was always particularly vivid when talking about the watchers also able to describe them in frightening details, "They didn't have eyes like you and me, they had six eyes and they glowed purple and if they looked at you they could pull out all the secrets you keep deep inside but they always covered their faces with masks so no one could see. The wings were the starkest white then slowly transitioned to the deepest purple and the older and stronger the watcher the more pairs of wings, some had up to twenty pairs covering their back. They were mighty being's boy and ones you never want the displeasure of meeting."
He always wondered how she knew this information but whenever he asked she simply said, "Stories are passed down from one generation to the next." Yet something told him that that wasn't particularly true.
He sat there thinking about the past, he presumed it was his past but who knew anymore. Everything was fuzzy and strange but something in his gut stirred, something told him he needed to be somewhere, to get to someone. Like everything would suddenly be better if he got to this one person but he wasn't sure who. Hopefully they would know.
He looked up to the sky a wish in his heart.
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In places all throughout the space of life of death they felt it, a pang in their heart like their goal failed. Perfection was gone till they were there. All the beings came from one and went back to one.
The fabric of space crumbled around him. Eyes came out from the dark, searching for the start, searching for the end.
He felt them, he felt those searching eyes and knew in his heart time was almost up. If only he could figure out how to end it, how to make it perfect or die trying.
If only dying worked.
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Sorry this is shorter but things are happening
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A watchers puppet
FanfictionA watcher grian AU The rift's ever growing control over grian just gets to strong and when he makes a grave mistake he must turn to old forces to powers he sought to leave in his past. All while a new power looms over him threating to sallow him up...
