#i intended for this to be formatted in a somewhat similar fashion to the exisiting character journal entries

[pandoricpies]

My Friend

A small creative writing piece adding more background to the beautifully illustrated (by @ellipuukangas) ‘Fripp’ short comic featured on SSO’s Instagram page; written from Fripp’s POV.

My friend, my dearest friend.

It was long ago, so long that the sacred magical beasts still roamed these ancient lands. It was only us, me and her.

We arrived to this place, long before the beauty of life was painted across its dark, rocky canvas. For it was she who created the Life.

“I want to make a home here.”

Her words were promising, unyielding to opposition. Although I wasn’t assured as to how we were going to make this barren island suitable for the creation of a dwelling, I trusted her. She possessed power beyond that comprehensible to any mind.

Together, she and her handsome white pegasus were the Bringers of Life. I tagged along atop that magnificent hooved creature, gazing in wonder as the bright light of Life spilled from her fingertips and flowed from the mane of that brilliant white horse. All that was good and fair and alive spilled onto the harsh rocky plains, seeping into the veins of a land that had been dormant for so long.

No, it was they who created those veins.

Yes, they, she and her horse, who summoned the trees to burst through the barren ground, the sound of the horse’s hooves seeming to me what called the cold rocks around to break and crumble, forming the rich soil that would soon support variants of botany and creatures.

Life, that is what they created.

Soon, after much work, the once desolate island was now unrecognizable. It was as if an artist had taken her brush and paints to a blank canvas, determined to leave the surface without a trace of its former white. And that is exactly what they had done.

As that damned old saying goes however, “All good things must come to an end.” I still remember that day as if it were only yesterday - the darkness, the shadows, that monster, her tears and screams as she watched what she had worked so hard to create crumble at the demon’s wrath. The devil had truly come to play. It was by my efforts and their sacrifice that the beast, Garnok, was finally contained. The darkness was banished, and life continued on throughout the island. It almost made me angry; how dare this beautiful life still forge on and thrive while it’s gracious Creators lay silent, having given their very souls so that the world may live on. This thought filled me with an unusual anger. She warned me that the shadow would not stay away forever - that new souls, the reincarnations her warriors, would rise up and, at the very least, keep the demon at bay. I would, of course, be the one entrusted with their training. As I sit here, scratching away at this old scroll, I wonder, truly, if this young generation will be the last - if her foretold fifth warrior will be able to finish the great beast once and for all. It is a trivial thought, even I know that. I am yet again sentencing another young group to death; so it is, so it has always been since our Creators’ deaths. This is all I can bear to write for now. I shall place this entry with the multitude of my soliloquys from over the many years. This is the burden of leadership.