12-26-2007, 05:55 PM
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| It seemed hopelessly bizarre that every second measured the same amount of time as the next. As did every minute, and every day, and every week, and every month. The reason for the strangeness of this clear-as-daylight fact was that some periods of time just threw themselves by in a blur of events and experience. For instance, Tamerlane was no longer as new as he had been to Storm; indeed, he was very much a pack member now. He had done so much in his time here, including meeting others, learning of the culture of Bleeding Souls and its various regions, and of course exploring. As was his forte. Yet much of this was something of a blur. The evidence that he had been here a while now was still there; he emerged from the den in which he rested (though he didn't tend to sleep more than a few hours every night, by force of habit) to find everything familiar to him. Tamerlane turned his grey-black eyes from the skeletal canopy, through which the sunlight blinked, in a north-easterly direction. A long morning stroll that was by now routine. |