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month chat rogue 2 5 3
It is a beautiful stone, white and regular, half-buried in the soft sand like an exquisite dessert delicately placed under the waves.
This is a good place, she thinks. No one will interrupt her here.
She has walked for a long time, by herself, through broken ruins, through slimy fragments, through song, through death.
Finally, she came before the stone. It was a coincidence. She never set a goal for her journey, but that was for the better. The best moments are often unpredictable.
She approaches the rock and touches it. The knowledge she had once held was buried in the dark depths along with her name, but the emotions remain. She has given up on describing them, but they are undoubtedly present in her trembling hands.
She has not trembled like this for many, many years.
She caresses the stone, trying to capture some warmth, but feels nothing. She no longer feels changes in temperature. She runs her finger over it and feels a slight resistance. It is a good rock, which feels almost as though it could cross beyond eternity.
She had touched a rock like this, one afternoon beyond distant time. Back then, she believed that there was something that could resist time, resist death, resist the impending end.
But perhaps not allowing fate to have its way was itself a form of resistance, in its own way.
...Connected.
The words she had heard so many times had long faded beyond recognition from her memories, but she at least knows that no one is connected with her anymore.
It is time. She understands that she can delay no more.
She slowly raises an arm. That which was once called a weapon is now a dried husk, but it is enough for the work ahead.
The stone peels away, piece by piece.
A little more, a little more.
......
She closes her eyes. It is done.
She has liberated the void from form, and entrusted her fate to it.
The waters rise and ebb, washing away all traces of both the stone and the silhouette from the beach.
