Perish the Thought
Sleep
The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you
Strange what desire will make foolish people do
Strange what desire will make foolish people do
(Preferred) Genre: Magical realism / urban fantasy
Time and Setting: Open for discussion / Surprise Me™
Pairings: MxF or MxM (Romance not required)
Everything is negotiable. See INFO for more OOC details.
Skip to PROMPT for a better idea of how the opening scene would play out.
Time weaves with a steady hand. Long, winding fibres converge and separate, bearing souls spread across lifetimes. Look far enough in Time’s fabric, and a pattern emerges. It’s always the same stitches. The same loops. The same loves and heartbreaks. Some souls are simply more closely intertwined than others.
But not us. Our threads were never meant to touch.
There’s a cluster of explanations -- of excuses, really. Sometimes, it’s luck of the draw. I’d wheeze out my last breath while you took in your first. Other times, it’s the world. It’s the ocean, hiding you away to the tiniest, faintest speck in the horizon. Once, a starving stowaway on a sinking ship, I strained to reach the edge of the earth. The waves snatched me away before I could get to you.
Often, it’s other souls. A young poet had whisked you away before I could get the chance to meet you at your sister’s banquet. We could have wished each other good night in a last waltz. In another lifetime, our gazes must have crossed, must have almost crossed, but you were lost in a sea of disenchanted faces. I couldn't find you, didn't have enough time to find you. My neck was trapped in a noose’s embrace. In hindsight, the people’s cheers rang more like cries of escapism, like pleas of something more. Did you join in? I couldn’t stick around long enough to find out.
Perhaps it was us. Just us. Once, you slept and dreamed while the walls around you burned. The entire village -- everything you’ve ever known -- was engulfed in flames, and I had struck the first match. And you were fast asleep. I like to think that you were fast asleep.
There’s a cluster of excuses, but trace it far back enough, and it’s clear to see. It’s not fate. It’s mathematics. We are asymptotes -- two curves that draw closer and closer to each other, but never close enough to intersect.
Our threads were never meant to touch. Death always snatches us away before we could get to each other. It’s neither tragedy nor conspiracy -- just a pattern on Time’s fabric. Divide by zero, and the world breaks.
But today, you turned left.
You could have gone right, as you usually do. You could have gone straight ahead, or retreated back home. But today, you turned left.
And I should be dead. And you should be elsewhere. But today, the pattern is no more. The math is all wrong. The world is breaking. Woven threads start unravelling. At the heart of the shear and the friction, we lie, tangled.
PROMPT
Your character notices a fresh blood trail. It leads beyond the edge of the pavement, towards the canal system passing through the city like a web of water ensnaring little islands of brick, gravel and concrete. The waters mirror the hues of a purple sunset, but there’s a break in the canvas. Someone has stained it red.
He couldn’t be older than 30, although with a full beard and the thick mop of golden hair covering half his face, it was hard to get a better look. Pale blue complexion, as if something was slowly ripping away the colour from his skin, made it difficult to find him intimidating. On any other day, though, he might have looked like someone who could fight for a living. Perhaps he was. The scars etched around his arms showed as much. A tattoo peeked from the collar of his scuffed shirt; the mark of one of the city’s local gangs.
Walking away seems like the most logical choice. In a city like this, it’s always better to keep your head down. Guilt may drum up nightmares and sleepless nights, but better torture the mind than torture, well, everything else. But the man in the shallow waters has kept his eyes open, and for a moment, your character is sure that their gazes cross. His lips move, and your character finds themselves paralysed with the need to move closer.
“Save me.”
Not far behind them, another silhouette looms. But your character doesn’t notice. Even if they did, maybe it wouldn’t matter. They’re done with walking away -- at least for today.
INFO
A LITTLE BIT ABOUT ME:
- Intermediate/Advanced writer with 10+ years experience RPing on and off
- 21+ years old, and perfectly okay with exploring dark/mature themes
- Averages 1 reply every 2-3 days, but this is highly variable and mostly dependent on post length ; if I can't write reply within a week, you'll be notified in advance
- Can (and often will) write multiple secondary characters into the story
A LITTLE BIT ABOUT WHO I’M LOOKING FOR:
- Appreciates (and participates in) worldbuilding and slow-burn character development
- Similar RP experience and maturity level
- Will communicate triggers / limits, if any
- Can post at least once a week
- No need to match my post length ; as long as you drive the story forward, I'm happy
AND JUST A LITTLE BIT MORE:
- Either thread or PM is fine
- No character sheets
- No face claims
- No instant / paint-by-the-numbers romance
- Emphasis on maintaining a low fantasy atmosphere ; no introducing special abilities or elements that would immediately look out of place in normal society … at least not yet
- Plotting is great as long as it's not at the expense of flexibility / open-endedness
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