Cephy (cephy) wrote in kinkfest, @ 2008-03-03 20:42:00 |
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Ask a person if they want to live forever, 99% of the time they'll say yes.
Ask them what they want to do for the rest of forever, well, that's a different story, because most of them really won't have thought that far. Oh, they'll come up with something, say they want to get rich and sit back and enjoy having time to do whatever they want-- but what they don't usually realize is that, given enough time, anything gets boring.
And when there's nothing to do at all, oh man, don't even ask.
Dark imagined himself turning over, fluffed a pillow that wasn't there, flopped back onto a big bed of nothingness and tried to heave a sigh-- except, of course, no sound.
It was the quiet that really got to him, when any of it managed to get to him. There had been those in the past who said he was too in love with the sound of his own voice, and he didn't try to deny it-- well, okay, he did, but only when it seemed like it would spark off something fun-- because he knew perfectly well that after so many times stuck without any sound at all, sometimes he just wanted to talk or yell or do something, anything to break up the silence.
When all you've got for entertainment is the inside of your own head, it can get old pretty quickly.
Still. If he closed his eyes-- or maybe they were closed already, but really, who could tell?-- he could at least remember, remember falling through the air, the chill of the wind, the thrill of the chase. Moments that no doubt only seemed so much more alive in comparison to the rest, but hey. That was his life, really-- brief bursts of activity followed by a long stretch of silence. Fireworks in the night; a moment of brilliance and then a whole lot of waiting.
Ah, but those moments--
At least it kept things from getting boring. If living forever meant living for moments like those, then it was probably worth it.
He settled in, as best he could, closed his eyes-- yes, really closed, he was pretty sure of it this time-- and let himself wonder what would happen next. A favourite game, that, better than reminiscing about what was already gone. He wondered if that girl he'd glimpsed was doing all right, wondered what his next Tamer in the long line of them would be like. Drifted from there into thoughts of all the things left to be stolen.
Dreamed, after a time, of flying and flying and never coming back, with the wind in his ears anything but silent.