Post by Deleted on Feb 5, 2019 1:13:19 GMT -6
We open at a beach, on a cool winter's evening. The moonlight glistens on the ocean below, the waves crashing upon the shore as we see two figures approaching from the distance. The closer they get, the more the moonlight shines upon them...slowly revealing a chattering Aeon Khronos and a silent Brenna Gordon, with Aeon closer to the water's edge. The look on Brenna's face tells the story, one of disinterest with her hands deep in the pockets of her pants as Aeon rambles on.
"So then, the crashing of the waves is their song, one of tragedy and longing. They long for the peace of days gone by, before the days of violence that besieged them so."
Something changes in her expression, in eyes as black as the waves beneath the glimmer of moonlight at that particular line of rambling that Aeon has taken up... but she doesn't speak. Instead, she shoves her hands that little bit further into her pockets as she made some non-committal noise that she hoped would do as the others have in gently nudging him along. The sound of his voice isn't wholly unpleasant when she tunes him out partially, though such is likely not going to happen anymore, not when he's hit upon a truth that she is reluctant to discuss.
"Here, I'll show you."
Aeon steps toward the ocean, cupping his hand near his ear as he sticks his head close to the water. He waits for a bit, a smile growing on his face when the desired outcome occurs. After a moment he motions for Brenna to come over, to experience this phenomenon for herself. A brow raises as she does her best to look skeptical rather than scared of getting any closer to the water... but after a moment, she makes a show of sighing before joining him, her hand cupping like his.
"...it sounds the same as it always does." A pause; her voice softens a little, a hint of something mournful revealing itself in her tone. "Distant."
"Same as it ever was? Oh, I've heard that before." Aeon chuckles at his own witty recollection. "It only sounds distant if you choose it to be. Hearing is not the same as listening. Lean in closer...what do you hear?"
The glare she shoots in his direction comes close to being sharp enough to disembowel him where he stands, but his obtuseness is an effective shield against such things. Brenna leans in further, but only by the bare minimum, tension singing in her veins.
"...nope, nothing's changing." And nothing will, unless he somehow has the magic key to free her from the past that has her heart thundering in her chest and her breath hitching involuntarily. A pause; she turns her gaze to him. "Why don't you tell me what you hear?"
"Like any dialect, the song might vary in tone...but the message is constant." Aeon leans closer to the water, his head nearly touching the surface as he starts to recite what he's hearing. "Allow me to accept what I cannot change, guide me to change what I can, lead me in knowing the difference." Aeon stands back up, the smile never leaving his face. "Does that ring a bell?"
"...yeah, of the first Google search result for 'generic inspirational quotes'." The sarcasm in her tone neatly obscures the concern she feels for him being so close to the water, the urge to pull him away lest it swallow him the way it... a shake of her head dismisses that train of thought as she sighs to herself. "And here I thought you actually would've come up with something more interesting."
Normally, this response would be disheartening...but the challenge simply draws a chuckle from the Time Wizard. "There's a reason it's called an inspirational quote, Miss Gordon. Where does anyone get their inspiration? The concept of a muse is often correlated to a goddess or other mystical being, but I tell you the truth...the muse is much more ambiguous than that. Imagine hearing the waves calling you to a higher purpose, one of peace...one of serenity. How would you respond?"
"I'd call it a liar." The response, wavering and bitter, leaves her lips before she can stop it, Brenna going as still as a statue as she tries to figure out just how to extricate herself from this moment and shore up the cracks in the walls that surround her. She who is Born of Myth averts her eyes from the waves and Aeon both, turning in the direction they came from with a shaky exhale. Hopefully, he'll get the hint.
"I'm missing something, aren't I? I've seen that look just once before, Miss Gordon...and it was in a situation much like this. The waves crashing, singing their song, and a young woman standing before me, denying what she can see, what she can hear...what she can feel."
Aeon steps closer, examining the face of the woman standing beside him, nodding his head as the smile finally fades from his own face.
"Yes, I see it now...like a reflection from a mirror, down to the most minute detail. And I think I know what comes next, but just like I needed to hear it from her, I need to hear it from you."
To see him serious is... it draws him closer to being considered a person rather than merely a piece of the background, an extra just passing through that can't humanly know what she knows or what she's lost. All the same, though, even if she can feel herself growing tense for a different reason as he grows closer, she can't let him in. Not that easily.
"What do you want to hear from me, exactly?" Her tone is sharper than she intends it to be, but she's too focused on biting back the flood of an explanation that wants to rush forth. "That I don't have the same romanticized feelings about this place? Because I don't. I could've told you that without us even having to come here."
A smirk grows on Aeon's face, but not one of smugness...rather, one of concern as he slowly nods his head in agreement.
"Nothing about this place screams romance, does it? Nor was that the intention. Sure, the atmosphere would allow such a thing to flourish if all the other pieces fell in place...but history doesn't always lend itself to happy endings. It always seems to find a way to repeat the absolute worst moments, over and over again...much like the ocean's song, the beating of the war drum changes in tone but never in tempo. The reason I asked you to come here is the same reason I asked your mother--"
"Liar!" The word roars free of her lips as she turns, her hands gathering up the lapels of his leather jacket to haul him in close as she snarls at him, the irises of her eyes seemingly expanding under the influence of her fury to leave little white visible. "There's no way you could've ever actually talked to my mother because if you had, then you'd KNOW why I don't hear the same thing that you do when I listen to the waves! If you knew her, then you'd know that the ocean's not saying that inspirational bullshit you said earlier!" Her inhale is jagged as the corners of her eyes fill with salt water of their own. "You'd know that the waves want their daughter back, and that they... they won't..."
Another ragged breath and she's pushing him away, turning on her heel as her arms wrap around herself in an attempt to forcibly pull herself back together, to hold onto herself even as the roar of the waves threatens to rip her apart all over again. Aeon regains his composure, after just the faintest moment of being shaken by Brenna's interjection.
"Hearing is not the same as listening, and the heart has a bad tendency to stray from what the mind knows to be true. What one hears as inspiration, another hears as a threat. What I hear these waves sing can be misconstrued by anyone who denies serenity. Wars have been fought over the interpretation of this message. Imagine that...mistaking peace for war. Homes have been divided, torn asunder by the confusion these waves leave in their wake. Lives can be changed for better or worse off the back of the information gleaned from this song."
Her hands open and close, open and closelike they did when she was drowning as she is left with no choice but to listen because she doesn't trust her legs to support her long enough to run more than a couple of steps... and he has already seen her more vulnerable than he should've. A huff of an exhale and she tries to sound as disinterested as when they first set foot upon this Goddamn beach. "...and what does that have to do with me?"
"Perhaps it is better to hear nothing at all than to hear the wrong thing. Still, in time, you could learn to hear the song for yourself and make your own interpretation...or you could accept a helpful hand. That's what I offer you, a hand."
From a distance, a whirring sound grabs the attention of both Aeon and Brenna. They look toward the beach, where a grandfather clock slowly fades into view. The sight brings a smile back to Aeon's face as he extends a hand toward Brenna.
"You may know yourself as Born of Myth, but your story is far grander and far truer than you may give it credit. What'd you think, Miss Gordon?"
Dark eyes finally meet Aeon's own before flickering to his outstretched hand, then back to his face again.
"So then, the crashing of the waves is their song, one of tragedy and longing. They long for the peace of days gone by, before the days of violence that besieged them so."
Something changes in her expression, in eyes as black as the waves beneath the glimmer of moonlight at that particular line of rambling that Aeon has taken up... but she doesn't speak. Instead, she shoves her hands that little bit further into her pockets as she made some non-committal noise that she hoped would do as the others have in gently nudging him along. The sound of his voice isn't wholly unpleasant when she tunes him out partially, though such is likely not going to happen anymore, not when he's hit upon a truth that she is reluctant to discuss.
"Here, I'll show you."
Aeon steps toward the ocean, cupping his hand near his ear as he sticks his head close to the water. He waits for a bit, a smile growing on his face when the desired outcome occurs. After a moment he motions for Brenna to come over, to experience this phenomenon for herself. A brow raises as she does her best to look skeptical rather than scared of getting any closer to the water... but after a moment, she makes a show of sighing before joining him, her hand cupping like his.
"...it sounds the same as it always does." A pause; her voice softens a little, a hint of something mournful revealing itself in her tone. "Distant."
"Same as it ever was? Oh, I've heard that before." Aeon chuckles at his own witty recollection. "It only sounds distant if you choose it to be. Hearing is not the same as listening. Lean in closer...what do you hear?"
The glare she shoots in his direction comes close to being sharp enough to disembowel him where he stands, but his obtuseness is an effective shield against such things. Brenna leans in further, but only by the bare minimum, tension singing in her veins.
"...nope, nothing's changing." And nothing will, unless he somehow has the magic key to free her from the past that has her heart thundering in her chest and her breath hitching involuntarily. A pause; she turns her gaze to him. "Why don't you tell me what you hear?"
"Like any dialect, the song might vary in tone...but the message is constant." Aeon leans closer to the water, his head nearly touching the surface as he starts to recite what he's hearing. "Allow me to accept what I cannot change, guide me to change what I can, lead me in knowing the difference." Aeon stands back up, the smile never leaving his face. "Does that ring a bell?"
"...yeah, of the first Google search result for 'generic inspirational quotes'." The sarcasm in her tone neatly obscures the concern she feels for him being so close to the water, the urge to pull him away lest it swallow him the way it... a shake of her head dismisses that train of thought as she sighs to herself. "And here I thought you actually would've come up with something more interesting."
Normally, this response would be disheartening...but the challenge simply draws a chuckle from the Time Wizard. "There's a reason it's called an inspirational quote, Miss Gordon. Where does anyone get their inspiration? The concept of a muse is often correlated to a goddess or other mystical being, but I tell you the truth...the muse is much more ambiguous than that. Imagine hearing the waves calling you to a higher purpose, one of peace...one of serenity. How would you respond?"
"I'd call it a liar." The response, wavering and bitter, leaves her lips before she can stop it, Brenna going as still as a statue as she tries to figure out just how to extricate herself from this moment and shore up the cracks in the walls that surround her. She who is Born of Myth averts her eyes from the waves and Aeon both, turning in the direction they came from with a shaky exhale. Hopefully, he'll get the hint.
"I'm missing something, aren't I? I've seen that look just once before, Miss Gordon...and it was in a situation much like this. The waves crashing, singing their song, and a young woman standing before me, denying what she can see, what she can hear...what she can feel."
Aeon steps closer, examining the face of the woman standing beside him, nodding his head as the smile finally fades from his own face.
"Yes, I see it now...like a reflection from a mirror, down to the most minute detail. And I think I know what comes next, but just like I needed to hear it from her, I need to hear it from you."
To see him serious is... it draws him closer to being considered a person rather than merely a piece of the background, an extra just passing through that can't humanly know what she knows or what she's lost. All the same, though, even if she can feel herself growing tense for a different reason as he grows closer, she can't let him in. Not that easily.
"What do you want to hear from me, exactly?" Her tone is sharper than she intends it to be, but she's too focused on biting back the flood of an explanation that wants to rush forth. "That I don't have the same romanticized feelings about this place? Because I don't. I could've told you that without us even having to come here."
A smirk grows on Aeon's face, but not one of smugness...rather, one of concern as he slowly nods his head in agreement.
"Nothing about this place screams romance, does it? Nor was that the intention. Sure, the atmosphere would allow such a thing to flourish if all the other pieces fell in place...but history doesn't always lend itself to happy endings. It always seems to find a way to repeat the absolute worst moments, over and over again...much like the ocean's song, the beating of the war drum changes in tone but never in tempo. The reason I asked you to come here is the same reason I asked your mother--"
"Liar!" The word roars free of her lips as she turns, her hands gathering up the lapels of his leather jacket to haul him in close as she snarls at him, the irises of her eyes seemingly expanding under the influence of her fury to leave little white visible. "There's no way you could've ever actually talked to my mother because if you had, then you'd KNOW why I don't hear the same thing that you do when I listen to the waves! If you knew her, then you'd know that the ocean's not saying that inspirational bullshit you said earlier!" Her inhale is jagged as the corners of her eyes fill with salt water of their own. "You'd know that the waves want their daughter back, and that they... they won't..."
Another ragged breath and she's pushing him away, turning on her heel as her arms wrap around herself in an attempt to forcibly pull herself back together, to hold onto herself even as the roar of the waves threatens to rip her apart all over again. Aeon regains his composure, after just the faintest moment of being shaken by Brenna's interjection.
"Hearing is not the same as listening, and the heart has a bad tendency to stray from what the mind knows to be true. What one hears as inspiration, another hears as a threat. What I hear these waves sing can be misconstrued by anyone who denies serenity. Wars have been fought over the interpretation of this message. Imagine that...mistaking peace for war. Homes have been divided, torn asunder by the confusion these waves leave in their wake. Lives can be changed for better or worse off the back of the information gleaned from this song."
Her hands open and close, open and close
"Perhaps it is better to hear nothing at all than to hear the wrong thing. Still, in time, you could learn to hear the song for yourself and make your own interpretation...or you could accept a helpful hand. That's what I offer you, a hand."
From a distance, a whirring sound grabs the attention of both Aeon and Brenna. They look toward the beach, where a grandfather clock slowly fades into view. The sight brings a smile back to Aeon's face as he extends a hand toward Brenna.
"You may know yourself as Born of Myth, but your story is far grander and far truer than you may give it credit. What'd you think, Miss Gordon?"
Dark eyes finally meet Aeon's own before flickering to his outstretched hand, then back to his face again.