#Sorario Rex

[fwol-jintu]

Rex is irritated that he had to be woken up for a meeting that could've been fully explained using mail at 4:12 earth time

[fwol-jintu]

"Judgemental, you say?.."

HELP HE LOOKS LIKE AN ANGRY TSUM IM CRYING 😭😭

[fwol-jintu]

Happy new yewrs chat i finally got internet again.

Anyways as a new years gift, heres a chapter that i've left rotting in the dark for a while

______________________

Step... step... step..

[st o p.]

Rex halted in his steps as something resonated with the stone. It glowed a dim light; faint and cold.

For a moment, he tried to feel it, the changes of the stone. The surrounding waves. The everything that it'll offer.

For a moment. And then the next, he let it go. A thud sound was produced when it made contact with the ground. It did not crack nor did the light disappear – it merely remained unchanging, like it should.

[wh at  a r e  yo u  do ing?]

'What you asked me to do.'  A message, a reply. Words only 2 could and should hear; for it was only meant for the sender to understand and the receiver to decipher.

He looked ahead. Did not look at the ground, the stone that laid betraying and glaring. Did not look behind, the person that was all too nosy to understand words meant for privacy of the wind, the moment meant for rare peace.

Instead, he looked at the sky, the sea below. The wind that breezed past was cold and sharp, the scene reminiscient of a time long forgotten.

He thinks of the possibilities, that it could've been so easy for the stone to fall down the cliff. But no, he was too far from the edge for that. He doesn't near the edge more, does not back away either. He remained still, just like the stone.

In the moment, he thought to himself; 'The Old World— how was it like again?'

The Old World he knew of was bleak and lifeless, or life-damaging. Much like the world he was residing in now, the world he knew of before the Dyeing of Crimson, it was an apocalyptic wasteland. A war between mutant nature and modified humans.

He can't remember much of the Old World. So much of it was similiar to this one, that he has forgotten which memories were from which world.

He looked up to the gray sky and closed his eyes, he prefers to not remember things from the Old World.

Memories long abandoned, yet inevitably merging in the present time. Like a long cycle that could never be shrugged off, they persist to exist.

In that moment as he thought about the past, he remembers a saying.

'Let go of the past,' they say. 'Focus on the present,' they say.

How, when the past and present merge like a blur, and you can't tell which you have to forget and which you have to remember?

[Yo u're  no t p l an n ing to   g o  b ack ,   a r e   you ?]

The resonance persists- the voice of the resonance persists. It carves itself space in the back of his mind, a temporary stay that might lead to a permanent void that could never be filled again.

He opens his eyes and finally looks at the stone.

He lets out the first sigh of the day, quiet and barely heard. He turns back, and leaves the stone near the cliff.

'I'm just homesick.'

He does not answer yes or no, does not confirm nor deny anything. He's homesick for a place he never called home. How ironic.

The stone calls for another person. The nosy one hidden behind the trees look at the surroundings before getting into the clearing and picking up the stone.

Glowing a red hue it's markings did, heavy weighted and sight hypnotizing. Flesh of which their minds become, succumbing to it's haunting glow. The screams persist, shouting words into being. Etched into mind, engraved on your throat.

A wave of shock befell the nosy one's entire body, making them tremble to their core as the words were carved and inscribed into their very being.

"I, V■■■■r, v■w to ■■■er join t■e Co■rupt■on."

"■, Van■■r, vo■ to ■■ver side w■th th■ Co■■■ption."

"I, ■■ntar, vow ■■ never ■e a cause of th■ D■■ing of C■imson."

"T■e promises of the Old W■rld, I will se■ through it that it is kept."

"What...?—"

And then, there was a ripple in the sea below, and a scream that no one hears.