Time is an ocean, and the worlds are foam upon it. Bubbles form, slow, and break open. As the foam disintegrates, the world upon it fall to nothingness, and not a single person notices, not even the people who live in those worlds.
Because to die is painful... But to cease to exist? Well, that's just to cease. To stop. To be extinguished so swiftly that the flame is just a gossamer-dream as spun by the mother of all spiders.
Stories are described as fabric, plots as thread. Most think of cloth, but the truth is silk and web.
Web woven by Arachne, the Mother of All Spiders, the Author of All Stories, the Eightfold Queen, but most of all, The Goddess of Time and Creation/Destruction.
In her language, that concept, Creation/Destruction, is known by one word. Tropa.
Tropa is to create and destroy, to be and unmake, to know in ignorance, to see path and form in obfuscated darkness. Tropa is a concept ultimate, the singular and underlying truth that this too shall end.
One way, or the other.
In glory. In despair. In triumph. In defeat. In hard truths or glorious delusion, creation is an ephemeral thing.
Woven by the spider-queen, and then dissolved the the chaos and madness of the Sea of Time.
This is the truth, endless, eternal, that nothing and nobody could ever change.
And then, one day and quite by accident, Arachne wove a knot gordian that time and chaos could ne'er tear asunder.
And then?
Then she lost it.
Waltz through Time
or
The Only Meaningful Question
Written by EfM
Eien: Because I know this will come up sooner rather than later, Tropa != related to TVTropes.
Moving on, this story is a side project that will never be complete*. I'm writing this for my own entertainment, which is to say, NO UPDATE SCHEDULE EVER. I think others might enjoy it as well... But really, who knows? At any rate, expect a coherent plot, and all the other trappings of a story decent... But don't expect this to be anything like any of my other stories. If the prologue wasn't warning enough, consider yourself warned.
Oh, and I also plan to play around with word orders unconventional, so consider yourself warned.
As for why, I'm trying to figure out where it stops sounding faux-poetic and where English starts breaking.
*Because it's basically going to be a never-ending mega-single-character-crossover.