Subtle shades of darkness filter down through the ebon prison, doing little to dispel the shadows within. No sound echoes from the blackness, nor from the crystalline sphere suspended in the void. The hush here is not mere silence; it is the inevitable vacuum of the ages, of the progress of history, of the grave.
And yet, a tiny, pale hand is pressed against the jet orb from within, almost invisible in the gloom. A noiseless sigh, swallowed by the void as soon as it is uttered.
And she waits. For what, she does not know, but still she waits. The world of light and sound is not unknown to her, though only as a passing fond memory. Such things were long ago robbed from her. She once had a name, though this too is nearly forgotten. Such things do no service here. There is only the ageless silence. Ageless, though ages have passed her by.
Every once in a great while, voices, lights, smells, reminders of a world long thought gone reach her. Each time, it is single voice that speaks, sometimes male, sometimes female, never the same. Their fleeting passage is already complete by the time she turns to see. By now, hope has already fled, the flashes eliciting a response laden with reluctance, a mechanical obedience, nothing more. The girl knows by now that there is no escape, only eternal repose.
And she waits.
And yet, a tiny, pale hand is pressed against the jet orb from within, almost invisible in the gloom. A noiseless sigh, swallowed by the void as soon as it is uttered.
And she waits. For what, she does not know, but still she waits. The world of light and sound is not unknown to her, though only as a passing fond memory. Such things were long ago robbed from her. She once had a name, though this too is nearly forgotten. Such things do no service here. There is only the ageless silence. Ageless, though ages have passed her by.
Every once in a great while, voices, lights, smells, reminders of a world long thought gone reach her. Each time, it is single voice that speaks, sometimes male, sometimes female, never the same. Their fleeting passage is already complete by the time she turns to see. By now, hope has already fled, the flashes eliciting a response laden with reluctance, a mechanical obedience, nothing more. The girl knows by now that there is no escape, only eternal repose.
And she waits.