Post by Tiberius Spurius on Oct 21, 2007 18:34:27 GMT -5
What is it like to fashion an object with your own hands? Putting vast amounts of thought, time, and effort into its creation and then standing back to admire what was once just an idea inside your head: now an object that could function in the world of reality. An object could be as simple as a paper airplane or as complex as an impressionist painting: what both things had in common was the thought that was put into them. Their creators each had a clear image in their head of what they wanted, and they went ahead until completion. Sometimes there were obstacles in the way: sometimes many prototypes of the plane were tossed into the trash bin or ugly canvases were thrown angrily to the floor.
Yet in the end a masterpiece of the mind came to fruition and the feeling of having succeeded was so exuberant that it didn't pass for at least a few minutes. And it lingered the longer one put work into the object or how much the creators cherished it: this is a reason why adults of the species Homo sapiens care for their offspring so long after they mate compared to other animals. It was when humans were flush with success that they towered above all others as the paragon. However, when success is coupled soon after with defeat: despair could shortly fill the void that pride and happiness left. That is why humanity was so complex: they can have great successes early in life, traumatizing defeats as they age, and yet they still manage to smile at the world's problems that live them unhindered and jest at the problems they face.
For Nephilim it is far more simplistic: there are neither successes or defeats. There is simple one more hurdle in your path or one less: in time the race to your goal will be completed. And that was why a large being could be seen through the glass of the Greenhouse. The Nephilim known to man as Tiberius Spurius, oldest of his kin in Spain and possibly the oldest one still living in the entire world, was taking a moment to "smell the roses" as it was. The blond giant, with pale green eyes as calm as the sea, was holding a white flower in his hand and was deep in thought. Not on what kind of flower it was, for that didn't matter to him at the moment, nor as to who nurtured it to full blossom: what Tiberius was trying to gain from the flower was inspiration. It had been a couple months since the Nephilim had down anything active to further his recent goals and he needed muse.
He still had the Book of Saggitarius, but it appeared that the students of the school had given up on finding them and that left him stranded. Oh it wasn't that he didn't know where to find them: he had several guesses where they might be resting, but he couldn't be certain: that was why he'd have the students do the heavy lifting and he'd "borrow" the book for an extended period of time. So without the books to create his goal from thin air he'd be forced to turn back to his original goal: to work with what was right in front of him.
He had the means of pacifying the entire student body: several containers of the love elixir were still stashed in the Castille del Nosferatu. The Greenhouse could supply him with the means to grow an entire new world from a handful of seeds. The utopia that he so ferventing sought was within his grasp; and yet, he wasn't experiencing the rush when one's on the verge of succeeding. So what was the piece that was missing? Was it that he had no one to share his success with? Both Orifiel and Kesterel had been off his radar for awhile, and he figured that they had their own agendas these days. Was it that he was afraid of undertaking the final steps of his plan? Romulus was still running loose out there and could possibly catch him in the unawares when he least expected it.
Perhaps what he was experiencing was the last breath before the plunge: or so humans would call it. If he went forward with the means he currently had to achieve his ends: he would be putting the vast majority of the students in an impassioned state. It was humane in most regards: it made them think only of love and caring for one individual. The only problem was that some might resist the potion, throw away a life of life and carefree passion for free will, or two students might both become ensnared to one love and thus a quarrel would insue. But those were problems that the towering half angel could rectify if he found them quick enough. So it seemed that it all came down to one decision.
How badly did he want to make his own decisions, unafraid of the limits that Heaven and Hell strapped to him at birth, and how much did he want to live peacefully in an Eden where one could want nothing?
The answer was pretty badly. "Remember, remember," murmured Tiberius," That once there stood here a castle of stature. Soon this mighty titan of stone shall be one once more with nature. And then we, the Nephilim, can finally have peace and upon peace's fruit nurture."
Yet in the end a masterpiece of the mind came to fruition and the feeling of having succeeded was so exuberant that it didn't pass for at least a few minutes. And it lingered the longer one put work into the object or how much the creators cherished it: this is a reason why adults of the species Homo sapiens care for their offspring so long after they mate compared to other animals. It was when humans were flush with success that they towered above all others as the paragon. However, when success is coupled soon after with defeat: despair could shortly fill the void that pride and happiness left. That is why humanity was so complex: they can have great successes early in life, traumatizing defeats as they age, and yet they still manage to smile at the world's problems that live them unhindered and jest at the problems they face.
For Nephilim it is far more simplistic: there are neither successes or defeats. There is simple one more hurdle in your path or one less: in time the race to your goal will be completed. And that was why a large being could be seen through the glass of the Greenhouse. The Nephilim known to man as Tiberius Spurius, oldest of his kin in Spain and possibly the oldest one still living in the entire world, was taking a moment to "smell the roses" as it was. The blond giant, with pale green eyes as calm as the sea, was holding a white flower in his hand and was deep in thought. Not on what kind of flower it was, for that didn't matter to him at the moment, nor as to who nurtured it to full blossom: what Tiberius was trying to gain from the flower was inspiration. It had been a couple months since the Nephilim had down anything active to further his recent goals and he needed muse.
He still had the Book of Saggitarius, but it appeared that the students of the school had given up on finding them and that left him stranded. Oh it wasn't that he didn't know where to find them: he had several guesses where they might be resting, but he couldn't be certain: that was why he'd have the students do the heavy lifting and he'd "borrow" the book for an extended period of time. So without the books to create his goal from thin air he'd be forced to turn back to his original goal: to work with what was right in front of him.
He had the means of pacifying the entire student body: several containers of the love elixir were still stashed in the Castille del Nosferatu. The Greenhouse could supply him with the means to grow an entire new world from a handful of seeds. The utopia that he so ferventing sought was within his grasp; and yet, he wasn't experiencing the rush when one's on the verge of succeeding. So what was the piece that was missing? Was it that he had no one to share his success with? Both Orifiel and Kesterel had been off his radar for awhile, and he figured that they had their own agendas these days. Was it that he was afraid of undertaking the final steps of his plan? Romulus was still running loose out there and could possibly catch him in the unawares when he least expected it.
Perhaps what he was experiencing was the last breath before the plunge: or so humans would call it. If he went forward with the means he currently had to achieve his ends: he would be putting the vast majority of the students in an impassioned state. It was humane in most regards: it made them think only of love and caring for one individual. The only problem was that some might resist the potion, throw away a life of life and carefree passion for free will, or two students might both become ensnared to one love and thus a quarrel would insue. But those were problems that the towering half angel could rectify if he found them quick enough. So it seemed that it all came down to one decision.
How badly did he want to make his own decisions, unafraid of the limits that Heaven and Hell strapped to him at birth, and how much did he want to live peacefully in an Eden where one could want nothing?
The answer was pretty badly. "Remember, remember," murmured Tiberius," That once there stood here a castle of stature. Soon this mighty titan of stone shall be one once more with nature. And then we, the Nephilim, can finally have peace and upon peace's fruit nurture."