[ there's nothing complex about it, really. it's as simple as night and day, black and white. such things are too bright, sharp and just the slightest tinge caustic against his form sculpted out of darkness.
but, he bears it all the same. pain matters naught, when you feel nothing. ]
... and the seasons pass, time flows on. The leaves trace out the cycle of life and death.
[ he's quiet, that much is true. but there's a calmness in his voice that isn't quite there before, his consciousness fully crystallized in this plane instead of its reverse. ]
no subject
but, he bears it all the same. pain matters naught, when you feel nothing. ]
... and the seasons pass, time flows on. The leaves trace out the cycle of life and death.
[ he's quiet, that much is true. but there's a calmness in his voice that isn't quite there before, his consciousness fully crystallized in this plane instead of its reverse. ]