It's so versatile, so... infinite. Each decision branches off into thousands of possible timelines, and each of those timelines flower with their own potential possibilities. To watch them is to pluck the strings of a lute and listen to the struck chord—it's fascinating how they weave together, how they differ and diverge, how they sometimes paint themselves in similar-but-not-quite shades.
Unfortunate, then, that even that grows tedious after so long recording it. Each moment's been redone to death, like tropes some divine filmmaker just doesn't get tired of reusing. The timelines unfold at her fingertips as she steps into that half-realm, that clockwork dimension, and she watches as they hurtle toward predictable destinies. This, she supposes, is her nature—to be itchingly bored, restless.
Logically, though, that shouldn't be the case. Countless possibilities unfold before their eyes—there should be one where they are happy, shouldn't there be? Something fleeting, ephemeral, distant and vague—but there, deliciously extant.
Fervent as a hunting tiger, she dives into the timelines, burying herself in eternity. Months blink by as she digs, time twisting like taffy to her whims. No, no, too boring, too chaotic, too lifeless, too hopeless, too—
Their gaze settles on an unassuming strand of time merrily whistling its way toward entropy. This timeline... is peaceful. If they weren't a time deity, they'd have dismissed it entirely. But there's something to this universe's Croissant... something to the way she resists it, the way she entertains herself with trivialities long since stale to them.
It's dangerous. Invigorating. New.
Timekeeper licks her lips and smiles, heart finally skipping a beat. With a swing of her scissors, she rips open the fabric of time and space, and she leaps through the resulting rift into this wonderfully unexpected reality.
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