01-02-2025, 09:07 AM
The Luninar approached him, but Anton didn’t feel intimidated by his gaze. His fears were more ethereal - attached only to the images he had seen, still vivid in his mind, and the emotions attached to them. The Luminar had senses his hesitation, and in the moment Anton realized he had wanted him to notice the hesitation, not to manipulate him, but to offer the guiding hand he needed to step forward.
The Luminar asked what he had seen and Anton found it hard to put into words, because what he had seen had been more than a visual manifestation. It had encompassed everything, and then the word came to him. ”Memories - but not my own.”
It was the only word to describe it, despite how absurd it might have sounded. Memories were more than pictures. They were accompanied by the thoughts, feelings, and senses that had created the experience and solidified it in the mind. The word was a description, not to be taken as literal. After all, Orpheus was a myth - how could a person who had not existed have memories? Even if there was truth to the myth - how could someone else experience what they had. But it explained the vivid nature of what he had seen, and it had explained the fear he felt to a larger degree because at the end, when he know he was going to die, Orpheus had not felt fear, acceptance, or even the bliss of release. As he had been murdered, he had felt a cold, empty, and apathetic numbness.
His words, the first anyone in the room had heard from him, were meant only for the Luminar, but Anton understood everyone in the room would hear, so he did not lower his voice to a whisper. The spoken words had calmed the fear in him and he took a step forward, a decision made to stay. Anton still didn’t understand what they believed, but he would listen.
”If the Veil is calling to me, I do not understand what it’s trying to say,” he responded after a moment of silence. ”But I think I want to.”
The Luminar asked what he had seen and Anton found it hard to put into words, because what he had seen had been more than a visual manifestation. It had encompassed everything, and then the word came to him. ”Memories - but not my own.”
It was the only word to describe it, despite how absurd it might have sounded. Memories were more than pictures. They were accompanied by the thoughts, feelings, and senses that had created the experience and solidified it in the mind. The word was a description, not to be taken as literal. After all, Orpheus was a myth - how could a person who had not existed have memories? Even if there was truth to the myth - how could someone else experience what they had. But it explained the vivid nature of what he had seen, and it had explained the fear he felt to a larger degree because at the end, when he know he was going to die, Orpheus had not felt fear, acceptance, or even the bliss of release. As he had been murdered, he had felt a cold, empty, and apathetic numbness.
His words, the first anyone in the room had heard from him, were meant only for the Luminar, but Anton understood everyone in the room would hear, so he did not lower his voice to a whisper. The spoken words had calmed the fear in him and he took a step forward, a decision made to stay. Anton still didn’t understand what they believed, but he would listen.
”If the Veil is calling to me, I do not understand what it’s trying to say,” he responded after a moment of silence. ”But I think I want to.”