by Mousen » 06/18/2010 5:54 PM
Sorren nodded, not bothering to say anything, she sat down, and opened the book, strangely she couldn't find the author's name anywhere. She opened the first page, black of course, she turned the second. "To every person who has found themselves in need of a little rain." She smiled. Cute. No contents though, instead was in introduction, though not in any language she had ever seen before.
" Gris non é un estado físico, nin unha mente no que está nalgún lugar no medio, é un ser, un cesamento do fogo na guerra de luz e tebras, o ben eo mal, felicidade e medo. É un neutro. É poderoso e fráxil, perigoso e segura. Cando todo máis falla, grises reinado. É no medio da seca e de inundacións, unha néboa a calma nunha interminable guerra un estado raramente alcanzar. A pesar de todo o que tes que facer é ser o gris e virá, é natural para algúns. Pero imposible para os outros.
Moitas veces é fácil dicir cando un gris está preto de ser. A guerra entre a luz ea escuridade, está matando lentamente, Dolores sufocante. Entón pode haber un punto de viraxe, o punto no que o gris é alcanzar." Her tongue formed the words easily, though she didn't understand the words, half of her picked up the flow of the words, almost like she could understand in some bizarre way, but the other half had no clue. She flicked through the rest of the book, nothing. Pages all blank, not a word, nor image. Though there was a nast bloodstain about three quarters of the way through.
Then she picked up the other book, the one that had fallen on her head, perhaps fate would be kind. The title read. "What you need to know at this very moment." Perfect. She opened it, again the second page read. "To all those who find themselves in need of a little rain." Though underneath it, it also read. "Perhaps to rid ourselves of the drought we face." And again another something underneath that. "And perhaps a light breeze to escape the coming storm." Sorren shrugged and turned the page. She gasped at the page began to write itself, erasing what it had written before anyone could read it.
Two fails.
And she was running out of time.
Sorren could feel the hopelessness as if it were made of bricks. She wasn't going to cry, not infront of Storm, instead she shrugged, not realizing a silver tear was running down her face. She pushed the books toward him. "I can't make sense of them." She said, as the single tear hit the stone, making the stone hiss as though something molten had just dropped onto it and cooled, the tear had stained to stone a bright silver, almost like mercury. Not that Sorren noticed, she had her arms wrapped round herself, obviously in pain. A mix of pain and despair.
We’re all hysterical & going nowhere together.
C’mon rapture. Let’s go bedazzling.
Nothing gets futured without its own spitshine
& I’m already not not not not not not miraculous.