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| Today's lesson is Philosophy | |
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| Topic Started: May 25 2014, 08:59 PM (309 Views) | |
| Guess | May 25 2014, 08:59 PM Post #1 |
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On Sunday morning, a strange, shadow-less entity appeared on the dusty road to Hohoemi. He traveled with his face hidden behind obsidian wrapping and upturned towards the azure heavens. Clouds like swollen sails trailed like white snow across the sky. A breeze fluttered down the hillside spreading the scent of blossoms and succulent, early spring fruit. Slumbering late into the morning, lazy children breathed and dreamed. Worshipers of Gaena congregated along the wide stone steps of the Temple. Women in aprons as white as the river froth leaned over their garden walls to pluck flowers from along the road. The village sighed and the sun beamed. The Philosopher, or so he was today, nodded to those who passed, but his lips, hidden from view, did not stir. And though he seemed an outsider, his mirror eyes, reflecting the charming aesthetic of the day, did not wander in unkind curiosity. He ambled easily up the slopes that led to the Temple, mounting the granite stairs without any complaint of wheezing lungs or creaking knees. And though he said nothing, and indeed, did nothing, all eyes fell upon him: this ivory and gold robed snowflake blown astray. At last he reached the terrace, and turned momentarily to regard to sprawling wilds seen beyond the town gates. The Southwestern island was as wild and untamed as the winds that blasted down the endless plains. The Magician-turned-Philosopher felt compelled to throw himself from that high step and dive into the singing air. Something in him wanted to abandon the ground and these people. But he knew that in rising above them, he was more than ever becoming one with them. To see that idyllic hamlet in one glance, from high above, he knew he would understand the soul of the mountain and its beloved denizens. But for the time, he merely turned to the courtyard where the students of the Temple had gathered. The Philosopher sat before them on a stone bench, legs folded neatly beneath him. While the wrappings hid the details of his features from view, his essence beamed, and the students turned to him with wariness and amusement. He spoke, ”There is no-one who knows my face. There is no-one who knows my name.” And it was so. The Philosopher unfolded his gloved hands, his lack of wrists hidden by his sleeves, ”I come to Hohoemi because I wish to know the heart of mankind. I have thought much, but now I must ask questions as well.” Sprawled on the stone, a mature man stared transfixed at him, his book open in his lap and turning idly in the wind. The Philosopher turned his reflective eyes on him, ”Can I ask you a question, friend?” The man averted his gaze, but warily met the other’s eyes again, and nodded. He smiled unseen, ”I have pondered this question and have wondered much. Suppose you have lived your life up to this point with no more and no less strife than the ordinary man. Suppose then that a powerful being approached you and said, ‘You have lived honorably. For this I will reward you by making you young again. You will grow again from childhood, but will retain all your memories and wisdom.’ Would you then accept, become young once more, and gain time to learn new things and experience what you never could? Would you do this even as your family grew older and older, as you matured over again anew? Or would it pain you to return to those formative years, even with all the wisdom of your age…?” The Philosopher turned his eyes upon the small crowd assembled. ”What say you all? What is in your hearts?” |
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| Lyra the Godhand | Jul 29 2014, 03:26 PM Post #2 |
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There was another visitor to the normally quiet and uneventful village today, though this one was working somewhat harder at blending in. Lyra's preference was not to remove the gear that she had been gifted unless it was in desperate need of cleaning, or there was some other pressing necessity; unfortunately, its sunny yellow dye and silver floral patterning stood out like a sore thumb in these poorer parts of the world, so a simple dull shawl was being worn over most of it, ready to be cast aside should the need call. This was an ideal time to stock up on provisions and supplies that the wild would not give, but there was a secondary reason for her visit today: a visit to the temple. There was still no record of her order having existed, let alone any clue as to where they would suddenly have gone, so on the off chance that someone here could offer her direction, she came to investigate. After all, it would seem logical that one temple would have heard of another. While she didn't have any specific concern over standing out, she subscribed to the school of thought that discretion was the better part of valour. There had been confusion and discontent over the questions she had raised over her missing home in villages previous to this, and she did not want to risk being misidentified as having a disorder of the mind, especially in such places lacking in education. Strangers eyes did dart to her from time to time as she made her way through the village, dust brushing against the bottom of her shawl, but none treating her with anything more than idle curiosity. The climb up the temple steps were of no challenge to someone as young and fit as her, so she took the time during her quick ascent to marvel at the view she was getting. The temple at home did not rise above the forest like this, so save for the infrequent adventure up rugged terrain she was unused to such a sight. But this was not why she was here, she quickly reminded herself, and stepped into the courtyard. It was unusually busy today, and she thought for a moment before realising, of course, it was Sunday; people had come here to worship. But the man who was speaking, he seemed... off. Obviously he was an unusual sight, his height and narrow frame alone would attract comment, and the way he was dressed too indicated that he entirely unconcerned about comment. But there was something else, a frustrating little voice in the back of her head telling her that there is something just a little bit wrong about this picture, and when you figure it out, you'll kick yourself. Answers were not forthcoming however, so resigned to simply kicking herself later, she simply stood at the back of the crowd and observed. To live your life over? The most immediate response that came to her head, though she did not voice it, was to wonder what the point would be. It would be pointless, narcissistic. You don't grow by facing your old challenges again, rather you conquered the new ones that came with age. While she stayed silent, her eyes keened with the glint of someone who desperately wanted to blurt out the answer to a difficult problem. |
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