A/N: Philosophy time! Don't worry if it's mumbo-jumbo, I tried to keep it rather neat, but it may not have worked. Anyway, enjoy, and tell me if you got confused anywhere.
King's Crest
Chapter Seven: The Art of Existentialism
Dince, as always, felt apprehensive. The cool breeze and the soft muttering of the trees were conspiring against him. Each passerby had a plot for his life. So, there he sat, away from the perceived perfidies. As a relatively middle-aged man, Dince had seen a great many things; the difference with him was that he thought most of it was out to 'get' him. In that sense, he hadn't grown old at all, and thereby was still plagued by the foolishness of childhood. That did not, however, go to say that he wasn't intelligent; quite the contrary! His mind could decipher untold amounts of riddles and puzzles within a very short amount of time. And most of these puzzles were meant for geniuses.
Dince took up a rarified fallen leaf into his hand, and looked at its intricacies as he spun it in his fingers. Thin, spindly veins branched away from the stem, leaving a deeper brown in its wake, in contrast to the rest of the leaf. A thin, tapered edge maintained itself around the perimeter of the leaf, and the center was oddly unperturbed by the various insects of the forest, formerly protected by the Cenarion druids. It was starting to become dry and brittle, deprived of its contact with its host tree, and by proxy, the druids' blessing.
'Brittle,' Dince thought. It seemed this leaf was a perfect mirror of his mental state. He was stunned, though it wasn't the perfection of the leaf that had him stunned, but the imperfections. He was enthralled by them. It was flawed yet beautiful, tumultuous yet serene, inanimate, yet alive. It was the world in flux, hardly showing through the perfect order. Dince was perplexed at this sudden revelation, seemingly small in nature, but definite and real all the same. He thought on perception. What a great many faults that could've been avoided, all due to the flaws of perspective. Dince dropped the leaf, letting in fall. It oscillated in the light breeze of the forest, rocking back and forth as it carved its path downward. It landed finally on a soft, spongy patch of earth bordering the lake.
Dince smiled. He had arrived at the final puzzle. Life itself was such a large and complex entity that most who tried to decipher it eventually went mental, as they tried to figure out it's every mystery. Dince thought about this as well. Life wasn't the puzzle; no, the true challenge was in navigating the eddies and currents of the logic of life and escape with mind intact. It was, after all, very simple to become lost in the Great Scheme. What with religious perspectives, known scientific 'fact's, the specter of emotion, reason, lack of complete knowledge, and worst and most definitive of all, the sheer amount of time it took simply to explore every avenue completely and without missing a single detail, no matter how small. Yet another unsettling prospect was that of paradox. The thought of knowing one 'fact', yet also knowing a contradicting 'fact', and believing that both were true, despite the opposite nature, paradox was quite more than enough to drive anyone to insanity!
Dince paced the interminable pathways in his mind, aware only of the largest worldly details passing him by. He noticed the sun moving – that is, the world moving around the sun – but was only acutely aware of the passage of time. Time; another perceived truth of the universe. What if time suddenly became skewed? Or jumped forward periodically; or for that matter, stop altogether? What would civilization be without the concept of time? History would probably become a jumbled mess, without knowing how long it had been since the event occurred! The very foundation of life would be questioned, without any answers to be returned! Man- and all other kinds would have to adapt to the inadaptable, adjust past the point where adjustments couldn't be made. Chaos would break out, enveloping the very core of civilization. One of the main problems, Dince realized, was the concept of reality itself. How could something be so blatantly stated by man and widely and blindly be accepted, without any challenging thoughts brought against it? It should be subject to distrust and debate along with any other idea or law! Once more, the manifested culprit that showed its ugly head was perspective. Everyone had come to accept the sole reality to be truth, and had set their perception in scale to that, to the so-called 'status-quo'. All without ever stepping back and examining that which everything else was set in relation to.
Deeper and deeper into the quandary Dince delved, reexamining every claim made by 'experts in the field'. Gravity was well established, and Dince respected that, but what if that had unraveled? Reality would once more take a hit to credibility. Mass and volume were accepted concepts, but perhaps even they become jumbled? What of acceleration? Velocity? The margin for error was so great that even the slightest shift could prove damning. Dince was marveling at this point, simply shuddering at the erratic possibilities.
The thoughts kept swirling long after Dince had given up trying to figure out each secret. He knew he had made progress, both toward the answer, and toward the near-inevitable insanity. He set aside his new objective for the rest of the day; it was nearing night when he had reentered the world from his trance. His stomach growled angrily at him, making known its displeasure of being ignored for the past eight hours. This merely troubled Dince further in his thoughts. Time, again. Another pitfall in the stoppage of it would be organic systems of ordinary life. It would truly be a mess of universal proportions. Once again setting aside his thoughts, he stood from his roost near the lake bed, and walked to the inn he had slept in the night prior.
The warm glow of the fire showing on the deep mahogany walls was solace from his own mind, as he entered the friendly building. A young Night Elf stood in the center of the room, his mind solely focusing on the task of pushing the mop in his hands to clean the floor. Such single-mindedness could be afforded to the youth. They couldn't possibly be caught up in the troubles of the day. Not when life held such wonders for them. And why should they be? They held a stake in them, of course, but when they know nearly nothing of the grim realities, it was much better for them simply to be left alone until they believed they were ready.
Dince walked inside, being mindful of the newly clean floor, and moved up to the counter. He engaged the innkeeper with light banter before ordering anything. He eventually ordered a stack of wheat pancakes, and walked to the small table nearest to the door. The pancakes were given to him in short order, and were dispatched as such. Dince tried not to think of too much more as he walked to his room in the inn, and definitely not as he drifted peacefully into the deep coma of sleep. His mind worked through the night, in attempt to clear the cobwebs and damage. He would have to try thinking again soon.
