01-02-2008, 12:48 AM
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He wasn't sure when he had grown so old, but five months seemed like such a big number. It was an odd feeling knowing that the days he lived and spent now would never come back to him; these were once-in-a-lifetime sunrises and sunsets because he had all the rest of his life to be an adult, but only what, four, five more months of this mock innocence? Concepts swirled around in his head, all the things people had told him about that eventual journey that everyone took to discover themselves, to find out where they belonged and why. It wasn't something he actually thought about often, but when he was alone, it seemed like all paths converged to the same place. Said a certain way, anything seemed plausible enough, so how was he supposed to chose between them when each was as reasonable as the next?
It seemed like it had been forever already since he'd seen his sister and some of the gnawing loneliness had faded from necessity. He knew he could and should visit and honestly didn't know what stopped him half the time. He could have sought her out when he had sought out their father, but the meeting had left him a little depressed and he had just taken the excuse to go home. He wandered down the streets between the cookie-cutter houses, stopping now and again to stare at the snow-covered lawns and wondering what this place must have looked like a hundred years ago, or however long it had been since people had lived there. Arkham wasn't really paying much attention though; he was thinking, but he probably couldn't tell you what he was thinking about if you had asked.
And then he looked up again and was surprised. Perking both his ears up suddenly, he stopped and blinked.
It seemed like it had been forever already since he'd seen his sister and some of the gnawing loneliness had faded from necessity. He knew he could and should visit and honestly didn't know what stopped him half the time. He could have sought her out when he had sought out their father, but the meeting had left him a little depressed and he had just taken the excuse to go home. He wandered down the streets between the cookie-cutter houses, stopping now and again to stare at the snow-covered lawns and wondering what this place must have looked like a hundred years ago, or however long it had been since people had lived there. Arkham wasn't really paying much attention though; he was thinking, but he probably couldn't tell you what he was thinking about if you had asked.
And then he looked up again and was surprised. Perking both his ears up suddenly, he stopped and blinked.
Rachias?