The end of time you say? There's no such thing. There's only the end of your perception of time. Who am I? Well, you'll just have to find out now, won't you?

[indie RP blog for OC, the entity Time]
Eternity
some aren't bothered by time

outsidxr:

                              ❝                                —— no.
                                   must i always need a reason
                                        to pay my sibling a visit? 

                                                an amused smirk, though barely
                                                visible, was offered in response.
                                                it had been a long time since he
                                                last saw the other in his true form,
                                                which was admittedly quite a sight
                                                for sore eyes in comparison to the
                                                pretentious one (it was, to him) he
                                                often shifted into while attempting
                                                to blend in with the mortals.   

image

        ❝ seeing you at work  
             has never ceased to 
             fascinate me, caerus. 

    “Perhaps not, but I do cannot see the inner workings of your mind, now can I?”

  One brow arched as he turned his full attention on the other. No smile appeared to grace his features. He could not last remember when they had met. He wracked his thoughts to find the moment, but he was forced to reach out to one thread. One appeared in his fingers, filling in blanks in his memory. Ah, yes.

    “That display was nothing more than drudgery. Allow me to show you a true spectacle when there’s a real calamity at hand. How have you fared? It’s been long since our last meeting.” 

reblogged 2 days ago @ 13 Apr 2014 with 2 notes via/source

habitus-mentis:

     ( oh, now that stops her in her tracks.

     it isn’t that maggie is awkward — well, she
     can be — but simply that she’s not used to
     such casual offers. she’s not quite used to
     the way he’s so forthright, so candid with
     his compliment and his invitation. 

     she thinks she can’t grow any redder and
     yet there, across the apple of her cheeks,
     is the increasingly bright flush of rouge.

     forget the fact that she’s yet to answer his
     question, because what can she say without
     sounding absolutely conceited? )

          I have the time, but please, don’t feel
          as if it’s necessary. You must be a very
          busy man.

image

      ( who doesn’t have time for random women
      that accost you on the street. )

 

  “Hardly.” He said, amused by the blush that remained on her cheeks. With it and the comment, he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. “I’m not busy at all. I can’t say I ever am. Except for the rare instance, I’ve all the world to go but no place to actually be. I don’t mean to sound at all conceited or pompous…but I guess it is a privilege of being myself.” 

 He shrugged, and then continued with consideration to her comment even further.

    “Besides, I’m asking you. I don’t feel obligated, I just happen to like making friends with people—when the chance arises.”

reblogged 1 week ago @ 07 Apr 2014 with 7 notes via/source

habitus-mentis:

     ( she’s still blushing, the colour strawberries
     over the creamy expanse of her neck and
     cheeks. but now, she smiles a touch, mouth
     soft and welcoming as she inclines her head
     politely. a hand extends and teeth flash, a line
     of straight enamel a brilliant contrast to the
     faded pink of her lips. 

     it isn’t often she’s met with someone quite so
     understanding, someone so at ease with her
     sudden approach. it’s quite nice, if not a touch
     surprising to the blonde. )

               —Maggie. Maggie Trent. 

          It’s a pleasure to meet you, Caerus.

image

            “Lovely name, Maggie. It…fits you. Do you consider yourself a sweet person? Your name certainly evokes that sentiment…”

  The blush lends to his comment. He wasn’t meaning to embarrass, or fluster, but the words were out of his mouth before he could think to retract them. 

          “So…shall we familiarize ourselves truly? There’s a lovely cafe down the corner, if you have the time and would like to join me…?”

reblogged 1 week ago @ 07 Apr 2014 with 7 notes via/source

     ”You’ve caught me at a bad time.” 

   His pale gray hues passed over the other entity. Caught at a bad time was an understatement—he had just finished fixing the threads again. His form was not that of the brunet he normally took, but the original one he’d had from the very beginning—young, blond, foul tempered. 

    “…I hope you weren’t needing me for something.”

posted 1 week ago @ 07 Apr 2014 with 2 notes

    “Would I cause a great calamity if I destroyed all the threads?… I wouldn’t have to untangle any if there were none.” 

  Don’t listen to him, he’s just annoyed.

lunxticus:

                        it’s barely a trouble. i’m 
                          me. and they’re me as
                          well. we don’t share a 
                          mind or a memory. for
                          all intents and 
                          purposes we are 
                          individuals.  

      It’s not a simple concept. 
      Split personalities would
      be an accurate 
      assumption, but it was 
      more than that. Entirely 
      separate people. 

               It hadn’t always
               been that way.
image

          but enough about me.  

   ”Well, when you put it that way, I suppose it wouldn’t be.” Time wasn’t certain he understood. He likened it almost to falling asleep while someone else ran around in your own body. Perhaps, because the being before him was not a human, it worked differently. Time thought to pursue the subject further, but realized it might seem a bit rude.

   ”Don’t care to speak about yourself?” The entity found that highly unlikely. “I doubt you’ll find me very interesting. I’m just Time. Hardly anything to talk about.” And yet the humans with their clocks and watches and calendars measured his very existence as if it were a religion.

reblogged 2 weeks ago @ 31 Mar 2014 with 10 notes via/source

THINGS I KEEP FORGETTING IN MY REPLIES: TIMES EYES ARE ALWAYS A LIGHT GRAY COLOR NOT BROWN OR BLUE OR GREEN. SOB.

habitus-mentis:

     ( maggie realizes, belatedly, that
     perhaps her sudden approach is
     strange. it might even be, in the
     worst case, unwelcome.

               should have thought this
               through, girl.

     there’s a blush that spreads like
     wildfire over the apples of already
     rouge cheeks; embarrassment
     slips into the way her mouth turns
     into a hesitant smile. something
     akin to chagrin stumbles across
     her expression, lingering in the
     softened chartreuse hues that
     study him with abashed curiosity. )

image

          I’m sorry. I—

     ( what could she say? )

               —I thought you seemed familiar.

 

  “Is that so?” 

 He smiled, glad actually, that such was the case. He didn’t want to end up somewhere he needn’t be, after all. It would only cause problems for the other person, and he so despised the thought of inconveniencing the humans. Time was never an inconvenience.

  “I’ve been told such before. Perhaps I have a familiar seeming face…or maybe I appear approachable?” He looked thoughtful for a moment, “Either one isn’t a bad thing, I don’t think.” He held out a hand. “Caerus, is the name. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

reblogged 2 weeks ago @ 31 Mar 2014 with 7 notes via/source

nativeapothecary:

{☾} Her gaze slipped about the spines of the books waiting so patiently to be touched. A thoughtful look crossed her features as she dissected each title with her eyes. The mans dispassionate response to her inquiries did not stale her own curiosity of him. She hardly ever interacted with people, as her job warranted her not to. At least, not with people who were not of her own kind. Not wet-workers or general bad guys of the world. Did she care what her corporation demanded in regards to rules? Well, some rules were always meant to be broken.

"Oh I’ve certainly talked to inanimate objects before. Plenty of times, actually. They always spoke such sweet nothings back to me." she chuckled, more so to herself than to the stranger in the isle. She ventured down the path until she was standing next to him, though still a good few feet away. There was no need to purge someone’s personal bubble. He seemed to hold some sort of faint ire in his stance. Perhaps she interrupted a personal conversation between him and the book. "Sometimes inanimate objects make better friends than living people."

       A quiet hum slipped from her lips as she browsed the books in front of them. Most of them old, leathery. Hidden from prying, disinterested eyes, waiting to be found by those only with the desire to find treasures. As books always were just that; one mans trash was certainly another mans beloved, priceless treasure. She reached up, the tip of her fingers dancing across the binds, across each worn title with their once pretty gold or silver lettering now barely a faint memory of the past.

      It was there somewhere. Squished between some unread novelties. She knew it, because she knew the store and its shelves of stories like the back of her hand. It was just a matter of willing it to show itself. And within little time it would appear—

      A single, small book edged itself just a hint towards the edge of the shelf. Aha! There was the little devil. Aradia tipped it back a bit before pulling it down from the rest of its brethren. She flashed a smile to the stranger and held it out to him.

"If you’re looking for a classic in this section, this might prove interesting." Faint, dull lettering etched the hard leather cover, announcing the story for all who wished to read. “The Turn of the Screw' was definitely one of my favourites growing up. Even if you're not in to ghosts, it's still a fun read.” {☽}

 The woman was not put off by his demeanor, and that should have irritated him. Time was disappointed to find that he was intrigued instead. She did not intend to leave him be. One hand hovered in front of him as if he would take another old novel from the shelf. He stared thoughtfully at the spines, a quote rising to the forefront of his mind. He spoke before he could think to stop himself, and internally reprimanded his involuntary choice.

  “‘A good book is the best of friends, now and forever.’ Martin Tupper thought so too…” Light, gray eyes cast toward her and then drifted back to the shelves. “But, I think that’s a little disingenuous. Befriending inanimate objects could get incredibly lonely.” The entity frowned, felt as if he had said far too much. He knew the truth of those words better than anyone. Existing far from the living taught him loneliness, taught him how to become friends with things that would never return your speech, and it taught him desperation when that was not enough. His hand dropped. He felt too vulnerable in this form, and suddenly wished he had walked in with his other.

  His intention had been to leave her standing their among the books, but her smile stopped him. She held out an old book, one he knew the name and story of. It wasn’t a favorite of his, but he took the novel and drew it closer. He scanned the titled, listening to her speak. He didn’t allow the smile that wanted to creep on his face to do so. Instead, he gave the cover the same dispassionate stare he had given the woman’s life line.

 ”…Did you ever consider the governess’ possible insanity?” His gaze rose from the cover to the woman. “The children are quite frightened of her by the end, at least it would appear so… It’s a rather disturbing piece of fiction, I’ve always thought.”

  Time held the book back to her. 

  “I’m more fond of Edgar Alan Poe, should I care to read something based in horror. Not to say that The Turn of the Screw is not a good work, but I must admit, I was somewhat sensitive to the ending.” 

reblogged 2 weeks ago @ 29 Mar 2014 with 8 notes via/source

lunxticus:

                            i've had plenty myself. most
                              given to me.  
image

     He’s been called plenty of things
     before as well. Often a God or a
     deity. 

           As much as it did for 
           his vanity he wasn’t
           a God in the 
           remotest sense. 

                  but then, i’m not often the same
                    person. it’s a sort of catch. it takes
                    all kinds to shape the moon. not
                    just a quick wit and a pretty face.  

 

   ”I think that’s how names usually work—I’ve never given myself a name.”

 Time arched a brow. He canted his head sightly to the side as he mulled over the choice of words. Then, he nodded, seemingly satisfied with whatever he had been evaluating.

   ”That’s certainly interesting.” The entity plucked at the strings again, looking for Lu’s. He found it after a few seconds of silence. The fingers seemed to read the thread, and eyes closed in a slow blink. “That must be a trifle difficult to deal with. I couldn’t imagine not being myself.” Well, sort of. He had different personas that fit his moods, his anger, but not to the extent of split personalities—no, he couldn’t imagine it.

reblogged 2 weeks ago @ 29 Mar 2014 with 10 notes via/source