Re: Battle Royale! Final Round: Chaos Conservatory
06-03-2010, 11:38 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.
Whit's legs went out from under him. He was tired, and he was finally willing to acknowledge it. Unexpectedly, a conveniently placed sofa stopped his slight fall, but he seemed like he didn't notice. He closed his eyes. The music, echoing from the halls, filled his ears. It was slow and soothing- but it had no effect on Whit. To him, it was just sound. The meaning, the feeling to the music was lost on this man, who refused to feel anything but what he wanted to percieve. Still, the sound on its own was enough to help Whit relax.
Rendered unaware of danger, unaware of anything besides himself, he let the weight out of his body and fell asleep.
Whit did not dream. There was nothing on his mind now, nothing for his subconcious to toy with. He was entirely, absolutely certain in himself, and in the luck that would always hold him firm. There was nothing that needed to be thought about. He was going to win.
Whit knew he was going to win now, and the next time, and forever.
Then, a stray thought worked it's way through Whit's mind. A casual, diurnal thought- but one that suddenly drew in his entire conciousness. It was something that others had doubtlessly asked themselves. "Was it me..." the thought echoed. Was it certain that everything he did was his own fate, a thing he grasped for himself, or was it...
"Or was it God?"
Whit's eyes snapped open. A slight bead of sweat trickled down his cheek. Even awake, the question consumed him. Behind his eyes, he could see his own god's grinning face. His blood chilled. Was it the god who allowed him to get as far as he did? Was it the god who gave him his luck, and not himself?
Whit stood. He remembered that the two remaining gods had been playing instraments earlier, and he didn't think they would have stopped now. Whit stared into space. His god's sound was echoing in his head. He memorized it. Even in the cacophony of so many instraments being played at one, Whit could percieve that sound.
With an empty face, Whit stood and began seeking.
Whit's legs went out from under him. He was tired, and he was finally willing to acknowledge it. Unexpectedly, a conveniently placed sofa stopped his slight fall, but he seemed like he didn't notice. He closed his eyes. The music, echoing from the halls, filled his ears. It was slow and soothing- but it had no effect on Whit. To him, it was just sound. The meaning, the feeling to the music was lost on this man, who refused to feel anything but what he wanted to percieve. Still, the sound on its own was enough to help Whit relax.
Rendered unaware of danger, unaware of anything besides himself, he let the weight out of his body and fell asleep.
Whit did not dream. There was nothing on his mind now, nothing for his subconcious to toy with. He was entirely, absolutely certain in himself, and in the luck that would always hold him firm. There was nothing that needed to be thought about. He was going to win.
Whit knew he was going to win now, and the next time, and forever.
Then, a stray thought worked it's way through Whit's mind. A casual, diurnal thought- but one that suddenly drew in his entire conciousness. It was something that others had doubtlessly asked themselves. "Was it me..." the thought echoed. Was it certain that everything he did was his own fate, a thing he grasped for himself, or was it...
"Or was it God?"
Whit's eyes snapped open. A slight bead of sweat trickled down his cheek. Even awake, the question consumed him. Behind his eyes, he could see his own god's grinning face. His blood chilled. Was it the god who allowed him to get as far as he did? Was it the god who gave him his luck, and not himself?
Whit stood. He remembered that the two remaining gods had been playing instraments earlier, and he didn't think they would have stopped now. Whit stared into space. His god's sound was echoing in his head. He memorized it. Even in the cacophony of so many instraments being played at one, Whit could percieve that sound.
With an empty face, Whit stood and began seeking.