[Zerlina]

((Are you guys ready for the sappiest post in the whole story? I'm SO sorry. I've just been inspired as of late ^^ and also I wrote it while listening to Legends of the Fall ))

Snowflakes fell through the hazy sky, turning and tumbling in a graceful ballet. The wind was their music, and it guided them gently through the gray, its clear breath cold and soft as summer waves. Below, the ground was a mess of frozen mud footprints, slowly being covered in a blanket of winter beauty.

Noble chin raised up, General Hige Toboe stared out at the field, an ethereal silence about him. His worn boots were pressed gently into the soft but solid earth, and he seemed immovable as rock. With ease, the wind whipped around him, lifting and tossing his cloak as playfully as a child would. Yet there was nothing childish about him, for as he stared –eyes cold as the earth he stood upon- he saw the world with wisdom beyond centuries of inheritance.

Before him lay a muddy field, grazed with ashes from burnt grass and bodies. Along the plain and the countryside, were the remnants of homes- black skeletons rising out of the frozen earth. There was no colour; there was no hope. All that lay before him was death, and the quiet that it brought.

In that moment, he could see his whole future staring back at him- an eternity of black and gray, reaching out toward a distant heaven. No matter what he did, no matter what strategy he could compose, his symphony would end before its time and fall in a cry of wailing discord. He would leave no legacy- no great deed to be remembered by. He would disappear just as the men before him disappeared beneath the falling snow.

In years to come, he thought, men will walk by this plain and never think about the blood which stains the grassy roots, or the souls that now wander the earth, their lives sold in exchange for a bitter defeat. For time falls upon us whether we like it or not, and moments are soon lost in the cruel river called “past.” A thousand years from now, no one will care what happened here. They will walk carelessly by and see none of this destruction, for they are blinded by snowy time. Our lives will be locked away- covered in a dirty, white pall, and no matter what, there is nothing we can do about it.

For we are the dead.

We are the forgotten.

No longer may we feel the sun upon our faces or the warmth of that longed-for embrace. No longer may we even hope for anything better, for our time will be over.

And though he stood alone, he felt that it was not so. For it seemed as if someone had shared his thoughts, and had truly understood him.

Slowly, he turned his back away from the field and faced his ailing troops. The coldness returned to his body, and the wind pressed him forward, though he moved voluntarily and without quarrel. His steps were now laden with a new heaviness, and even as he moved forward, he knew that his thoughts had already passed away into time.

[I]We each have only a moment, and we never know when it will be over. It is no use delaying what the soul yearns for, for at any moment it might be too late. Darkness is eternal and the day must be embraced and enjoyed, for sunset moves nearer with each and every second.