Post by Sanbu on May 12, 2020 11:37:13 GMT -6
Implied Purpose
Sanbu's PL: 144'000
What is a warrior? Are they strong? Must they have courage, or is it something entirely different? It was a precious moment when one knew it their heart that they had something worth protecting, worth loving and cherishing until they had not the life to carry on anymore. But why? What was it that made one a warrior? The answers could not just be found in a book. One did not turn a page and raise the book up high and state: "Why yes of course I have found it! It was here all along!" Nay, life was not that kind of game. Solutions lived not within but beyond and naturally it would become the pursuit of the curious to find it wherever such resolution resided.
Neither could it be seen or found though Sanbu very much seemed to know the feeling. You could not quantify this thing but it was around, somewhere, anywhere but perhaps not here. Not quite, but still close enough to where he could keep on guessing and hoping that he would find it eventually. The Gizard Wastelands were barren and bleak, hauntingly quiet as a lone breeze accompanied the silence of the environment. There was a weird feeling that hung over the landscape and the Majin struggled to properly place a finger on it but it was still understood somehow. As Sanbu stood atop a lone mountain he looked over and peered into the endless horizon with an odd sense of relief on his face. His arms were crossed and his expression was aloof all the while. This was not pain but pleasure, it so carefully held him close amidst all this stillness.
It was an impressive sentiment, to know the intensity of the environment so well but have no one way to explain it. To be so alone in what was such an open and boundless setting. The man did not necessarily stay in space that often but it was a comparable experience. Though Earth was one of the most lively planets he knew it still had ample places and periods that suggested some kind of laconic ambience. The day was easy, the morning sun had risen to high noon and the air was ripe with emotion. A kind of tension that was hard to place, it always seemed to feel like there was bound to be a moment of great release but it never arrived. Did one wait wait to hear their call as a warrior or did they necessitate the active engagement of their own person to create such a circumstance? The question still lingered.
Neither could it be seen or found though Sanbu very much seemed to know the feeling. You could not quantify this thing but it was around, somewhere, anywhere but perhaps not here. Not quite, but still close enough to where he could keep on guessing and hoping that he would find it eventually. The Gizard Wastelands were barren and bleak, hauntingly quiet as a lone breeze accompanied the silence of the environment. There was a weird feeling that hung over the landscape and the Majin struggled to properly place a finger on it but it was still understood somehow. As Sanbu stood atop a lone mountain he looked over and peered into the endless horizon with an odd sense of relief on his face. His arms were crossed and his expression was aloof all the while. This was not pain but pleasure, it so carefully held him close amidst all this stillness.
It was an impressive sentiment, to know the intensity of the environment so well but have no one way to explain it. To be so alone in what was such an open and boundless setting. The man did not necessarily stay in space that often but it was a comparable experience. Though Earth was one of the most lively planets he knew it still had ample places and periods that suggested some kind of laconic ambience. The day was easy, the morning sun had risen to high noon and the air was ripe with emotion. A kind of tension that was hard to place, it always seemed to feel like there was bound to be a moment of great release but it never arrived. Did one wait wait to hear their call as a warrior or did they necessitate the active engagement of their own person to create such a circumstance? The question still lingered.
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