[ SECRET POST #2751 ]

[case]

⌈ Secret Post #2751 ⌋

Warning: Some secrets are NOT worksafe and may contain SPOILERS.

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Notes:

Secrets Left to Post: 02 pages, 043 secrets from Secret Submission Post #393.
Secrets Not Posted: [ 0 - broken links ], [ 0 - not!secrets ], [ 0 - not!fandom ], [ 0 - too big ], [ 0 - repeat ], [ 1 - tar fields, I assume. No more linking after this. If you want to play a character, do it in the Games thread or a roleplay community, please ].
Current Secret Submissions Post: here.
Suggestions, comments, and concerns should go here.

Comments

Capital

[(Anonymous)]

Ah, my young friend, your festival tales remind me of my own long-ago and far-off times and seasons. We do not have the burning times, here in the Capital (as we have no need of it). The blood moons not only bring with them the blood fever, which calls us to the primal dance our race shares, regardless of geography, but after the rains of crustaceans have ceased, and our twin moons have returned to the colour of pale-grass in the twilight dew, then, my young friend, oh, then! Our hearts are lifted, and even as we trudge through our wearying days of endless sums and quantum statistics, we look ahead with joy and with hope, to the Singing!

There used to be a time when only the Auditioners could hear the Singing, and even then, such blessed individuals were graced with such a portentous gift for only a brief period of their lives. The marine biologists say it is the climate change, the deepening of our inland seas, that has made the Singing audible to everyone under the heart of the aurorae, here in the Capital; I, myself, heard the first city-wide Singing, when I was but your age. Tender in years, I was, and not yet inured to the long view of life, the universe, and everything. I knew even then, that first night, that I was a true part of the living history of our worlds.

Have you ever heard the aurorae Sing to you, during the burning times, my young friend? They say that eventually, even our rural cousins will see the aurorae. Perhaps you will one day hear the Singing as well. Perhaps, one day, you will not need to dream of an "easy" life (I say with a tearful laugh) in a distant city; perhaps your burning times shall ease, and with that, your flesh shall return, and wax fat, never to melt from your thin bones again. I will pray to the Booksellers for that for you, my friend; to have peace, and respite in your home, without having to travel to a distant, strange land. Such peace, you will have, when you hear the Singing, my friend! Such joy, such rapture!

The Song is so pure that the screams of the dying crustaceans from the weeks prior become a mere memory, overshadowed by the beauty of the eternal music. The Singing does not call us to the dance, however. No, it is no primal act that we are called to, in the presence of eternity and bliss. As you know, we do not sleep, here in the Capital. Except during the Singing. Although many of us try to stay awake for as long as we can. When we do sleep, at last, the long, dry spells of wakefulness and the bloodlust of the blood moons, seem like the distant past, and our lives seem like they belonged to other people, in another Capital, on another world. Perhaps they did.

The aurorae are lightening the skies outside the window of my small room in the University's arcological apartments now. I can feel the beginning of the Song, thrumming at the base of my neck, and dancing along my skull, like the whispered touches of forever. The Song will begin again, soon. Soon, it shall be as though the Singing has never ended. Then, mercifully, peacefully, I, and the other citizens in the Capital, shall have a brief respite of sleep.

With the time difference and the dayside of the facing moon greeting you now, I bid you good morning, my young friend. And if you do not hear from me for the weeks that I may lay slumbering (for I am old, and prone to oversleep), then I bid you also good afternoon, good evening, and good night!

Re: Capital

[fingalsanteater]

I love you, who ever you are.