The rain fell down, mixing in with her tears as she stared down at the streets below. My dear, why do you shed such tears of sorrow? She watches the people flitting about in their small groups as they await their carriages, the street urchins running trying to collect a few coin here and there. Look at them down there, going about as if their petty squabbles and their small crusades will really truly make a difference decades and centuries from now. On the grande scale only one or two will matter and yet they are filled with such importance of themselves that it makes one sick....and yet they do matter, to their loved ones: their parents, their siblings....their children. And we of the immortal ilk tread through their lives as if they are nothing more then a pesky bug flying about our heads. You have ruined many a mortal for petty reasons and I am no more innocent or guilty then you with giving them no more then a passing glance. What greatness we could have accidentally squashed in our effort to keep up with our selfish pride and greed. Why have we forgotten to care? She stares out at the city horizon as he steps softly up behind her. Many a kine has forgotten the original laws, many do not know how we once lived. We helped Seth's children and they in turn helped us. We were their foundation and they were our guardians. A sigh escapes his lips and a wistful look comes over his face. But that time has come and gone and we will never again know that tentative peace that the beginning held for us. A future that was a fragile balance lay before us but we embraced the darker sides that the Dark Father passed down to us. You my dear are fortunate; Azai made sure you never lost that human side that Enoch tried to crush. It has been your blessing and your curse. But it has provided you with an understanding that has opened up a new life for you and you have the potential to righting a few of our wrongs. You and your new brethren will be the saving grace of our kind…if we are even able to hear it. He places a gentle hand upon her shoulder and glances down to the streets below in time to see a child of no more then eight winters swipe a lady’s clutch and run off into the shadow’s of the ally. A shrewd chuckle echoes throughout the flat… dark imperfection blessed with even darker desires; my dear I’m afraid out kind was doomed from its beginning.
Keeper_of_Tales · Mon Mar 24, 2008 @ 03:05am · 0 Comments |