11-09-2013, 06:27 AM
NPC: Noah Crow's Eye
Noah watched from his vantage point as the three became two, and then one...and then none. Each off to wake in their respective beds, or from wherever they'd taken the step into the Spirit World.
How amusing that it never dawned on them that a fourth was at the party. Not that they would have realized it. They never bothered to look up -- and if they had, they'd not have seen a thing. It was a laughably simple matter to conceal oneself in this place. Jon's attempts to avoid him -- Noah recognized them for what they were -- were as naive as they were futile. Jon didn't even know how much he didn't know yet.
That last thought sent a fit of laughter rolling throughout the aged Cherokee's spirit body. Bear had at least demonstrated an inkling of understanding about the mysterious woman, but Jon was obviously still as clueless as the day Noah had brought him home. He had spoken from a position of knowledge, but he didn't even know who he was, let alone what was to come. Although the future could always be a bit uncertain. From this meeting Noah had witnessed, he could see the lines of if branching out as possible futures, like following a river in reverse into its tributaries. Which one would the single droplet of water end up in? And where, should the opportunity present itself, should one give it a little nudge?
What was, what will be, may be what is, today. But what was the meaning of what "is?" Noah's eyes unconsciously flitted to his forearm. He never bore his tattoo in this place. It was a thing he wished he was rid of in the waking world, a reminder that he'd ever been affiliated with them, even if it was just to get answers. Noah doubted any of them still living today knew he'd ever existed -- he'd taken steps to ensure his erasure from their memory. Their methods disgusted him, and their mission was as misguided as it was hopeless. What must be, would be. There was no stopping it. Perhaps that was why he kept the mark around in the waking world -- a memory of what it meant to embark on a fool's errand.
What must be, will be. But -- if one person had the chance to make the best possible future, the actual future, wouldn't he be wrong to not make the attempt?
Of the many ways Noah could have answered himself, the one that came to him enveloped him again in loud, cackling laughter that echoed across the frozen landscape and rang in his ears until he stepped back into the waking world.
Noah watched from his vantage point as the three became two, and then one...and then none. Each off to wake in their respective beds, or from wherever they'd taken the step into the Spirit World.
How amusing that it never dawned on them that a fourth was at the party. Not that they would have realized it. They never bothered to look up -- and if they had, they'd not have seen a thing. It was a laughably simple matter to conceal oneself in this place. Jon's attempts to avoid him -- Noah recognized them for what they were -- were as naive as they were futile. Jon didn't even know how much he didn't know yet.
That last thought sent a fit of laughter rolling throughout the aged Cherokee's spirit body. Bear had at least demonstrated an inkling of understanding about the mysterious woman, but Jon was obviously still as clueless as the day Noah had brought him home. He had spoken from a position of knowledge, but he didn't even know who he was, let alone what was to come. Although the future could always be a bit uncertain. From this meeting Noah had witnessed, he could see the lines of if branching out as possible futures, like following a river in reverse into its tributaries. Which one would the single droplet of water end up in? And where, should the opportunity present itself, should one give it a little nudge?
What was, what will be, may be what is, today. But what was the meaning of what "is?" Noah's eyes unconsciously flitted to his forearm. He never bore his tattoo in this place. It was a thing he wished he was rid of in the waking world, a reminder that he'd ever been affiliated with them, even if it was just to get answers. Noah doubted any of them still living today knew he'd ever existed -- he'd taken steps to ensure his erasure from their memory. Their methods disgusted him, and their mission was as misguided as it was hopeless. What must be, would be. There was no stopping it. Perhaps that was why he kept the mark around in the waking world -- a memory of what it meant to embark on a fool's errand.
What must be, will be. But -- if one person had the chance to make the best possible future, the actual future, wouldn't he be wrong to not make the attempt?
Of the many ways Noah could have answered himself, the one that came to him enveloped him again in loud, cackling laughter that echoed across the frozen landscape and rang in his ears until he stepped back into the waking world.