The X-blade Wielder 46The X-blade Wielder 46 by cmsully
“Sooo… when do you think Heavyn’s going to be back?”
Sighing, Riku turned towards his best friend as he once again answered, “She’ll get here when she gets here, Sora. Remember, if what Arya says is true then Heavyn was really far away when she finally contacted us.”
Groaning with disappointment at that response, the brunette Keyblade Master as he laid his head back down onto his hands. The two Masters were alone by the edge of the camp for the moment, as Kairi had left to go help Angela with something- what that something was, however, Sora had forgotten. It had been two days since Nasuada had laid her edict down, and none of their teachers had come up to the trio yet. Not only that, but Heavyn hadn’t contacted them since she had confirmed that she was on her way back.
When the trio had told everyone that Heavyn was indeed on her way back, there had been various reactions to that news. Eragon and Saphira had
(copied from ff.net)|
Today, writers are scorned because of those too unversed to know.
Disdained, because of those too ignorant to believe.
Despised, because of the realists who are too afraid to dream.
Misunderstood, because others are too unsure to try.
But we, as writers, know them to be wrong.
A writer is a person who dreams.
A writer is a person who wishes.
A writer is a person who escapes.
A writer is a person who lives.
A writer is a person who is not afraid.
A writer is a person who strives.
A person who expresses.
A person who believes.
A person who understands.
A person who knows.
I am a writer.
I dream of a world where anything is possible.
I wish for a world where war is just a myth.
I escape into a world where I can predict the future.
I live in a world of joy and mystery.
I am not afraid of the world I create.
I strive in the world where others give up.
I express myself in ways others dare not try.
I believe in things others are too afraid to trust.
I understand things others cannot, in a way that others cannot.
I know, in ways that others deny.
I am a writer.
Fanfiction is what literature might look like if it were reinvented from scratch after a nuclear apocalypse by a band of brilliant pop-culture junkies trapped in a sealed bunker. They don't do it for money. That's not what it's about. The writers write it and put it up online just for the satisfaction. They're fans, but they're not silent, couchbound consumers of media. The culture talks to them, and they talk back to the culture in its own language.
—Lev Grossman, TIME, July 18, 2011
Each journey gives rise to chance encounters, and each encounter brings forth a farewell.
When a farewell leads to a journey, the worlds open their hearts.
Those chosen by the light, or ensnared by the darkness. Friends who share the same bonds, though their paths may differ.
When you doubt the path trod thus far, when the hand you held is lost to you, gaze anew at the heart that once was…
For all the answers are within.
A long dream.
A sad farewell, hanging in the air in that “world between”.
What is reality? What is illusion? The path chosen by the young boy leads to his memories.
When caught in the stream of the days and nights going past, gaze anew at your steps…
For there all confusion will end.
The Future Story
Will the day come when this battle, born of confusion, will end?
It is different things to different people.
Can the reality be that which is hidden?
The reason is mere existence. Still, memories can be believed.
Be not afraid. Entrust your body to the soothing waves of your memories. By and by, your fleeting rest will be over…
And everything will begin.