@thesageauthor / starter
Despite how hopeless it feels to continue life without the beloved and deceased, somehow, time allows for everyone to push ahead. To either mend or bury old wounds, to go on living without those that made life worthwhile in the first place. And people would love again, hope again, smile again, such was the blessing of the primitive human design. For with all its flaws and failures, the serpent could not ignore the fact that this ability was truly wondrous. That even the most painful memories, could become more dull with age.
They decide an eternity will allow themself plenty time to shed away their own tragedies. And he, silver hair and dark eyes, is certainly one on the list.
They don’t quite believe in spirits, not in the conventional sense. They aren’t of the mind that there is an afterlife, that people who die are conscious in this whimsical land of happily ever afters. That there is something within each human however, a soul or essence, whatever have you... now that they can believe. For how many times have they pried spirits back from nothingness to enter the bodies of the living. There is something more to this world - and these days, the Sannin can’t help but feel whatever it is, is knocking on their door.
A whisper, a faint echo, delusion is what they settle with calling it. For something about this voice that follows their steps through a luminescent hallway is so troubling and familiar. And at first, it is only when it is quiet, or they are alone. Until one day, they swear they hear these whispers even when they walk with the very much living. Slender fingers twirl around a container of sleeping pills absentmindedly, lazily leaning against the table they sit at, contemplating whether it is madness that has this voice so alive in their mind. That perhaps the simple fix of science may banish such imaginary demons.
Demons that sound a lot like old friends.
