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Nora's Immortal Feast-A New Kohaku Production (TM)

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Nora's Immortal Feast-A New Kohaku Production (TM)

Post  Kira Kohaku on Sun Jul 02, 2017 4:41 am

So, on my first day in London, (in part thanks to Jack) I got inspiration for a brand new tale to spin. Now, seeing as I am Kohaku, I shall be spinning multiple tales simultaneously because it's what I do. Now, don't worry. While this tale takes place in the same world as Deva, it hardly requires you to read Deva for it. Nora's Immortal Feast shall be a more modest story and one that...well, you'll see as I write it. Hopefully you all enjoy it.



Mortality—a fascination, dread, and endgame that has stood before humanity throughout the many millennia of its history. Throughout, they have fought that inevitable Fate, desired to stave it off, and lost much in the process. If we attain immortality, we can attain eternal happiness. If we attain immortality, we can erase struggle. If we attain immortality, we will have nothing to fear. However, while a vast majority of humanity has failed to ever attain such a grand panacea, there are a surprising number of those who have grasped eternity, standing in the ‘splendorous’ world that inevitably opened up to them.

Those who traversed the grand cusp that separates mortals and immortals still live and struggle through their own problems. What I have logged with my pen, in my search, is meant to document those who struggle day-by-day through the cursed blessing of immortality.

These are not the tales of disgusting mortals who live in ignorance out of finiteness, but the tales of the gleaming immortals who struggle in shadows of eternity.



Table of Contents

First Diary

Prolusion - En Route
Entry 01 - Enclosed Love, Nebulous Love
Entry 02 - Infect
Entry 03 - False Dichotomy, Transient Monolith
Entry 04 - Memory of A Name Long Forgotten
Reflection - Invisible Boundary, Forsaken

Second Diary

Prolusion - Intertwine and Loop
Entry 01 - Reset and Refresh
Entry 02 - The Witch’s Melancholy
Entry 03 - Saintess in Sin
Entry 04 - VS Immortal Eater Nora
Reflection - I, who Follow, and She, who Precedes



Last edited by Kira Kohaku on Tue Jul 11, 2017 4:35 am; edited 1 time in total
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Kira Kohaku
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Re: Nora's Immortal Feast-A New Kohaku Production (TM)

Post  Kira Kohaku on Tue Jul 11, 2017 4:33 am

Prolusion

En Route

June 15th, 311, 12:15 P.M. (Time Zone: ???)

Ka-chnk, Ka-chnk, Ka-chnk, Ka-chnk

Mountains in the background and greenery in the foreground rolled on backwards as they gave way to more of the same, melding in with the iconic sounds of wheels rolling down rails.

Trains that ran on actual rail and track were a bit of a novelty in the modern era.  As it extended, though, the experience was sadly doomed to turn into a monotone affair. The Mana-lev had long since become the gold standard for trains, creating an extensive, almost all-reaching spider web of mana tracks that stretched across the whole world. Some people can attain a sense of novelty from seeing the scenery zip by at absurd speeds,  but I had long since passed the point in my life where that could fight any boredom from a long ride.  

Riding an old-era train, however, was a different experience. I had plenty of time to appreciate the scenery as a passenger, considering that this thing ran at 12% of the mana-lev’s speed.

I could even say that monotone combination of the green world around the train and the rhythmic clanks of the wheels were worth the experience.

They definitely provided more longevity. That's for sure. Definitely more.

Unfortunately, that longevity had long since been snuffed out. The same greenery, cloudy sky, and mountainous backdrop had become far too familiar a sight for me to want to stare out into it anymore.

Though, while I generally would have given off the impression that my eyelids had grown heavy from all of the boring travel time, my eyes tend to be half-open even when I am lucid. I’d heard that gives some sort of sleepy girl allure to onlookers so I had practiced it quite a bit.

“Haaaaaah…” I gave off a deep sigh. The train had long since passed its penultimate stop two hours ago at around 10 am. All that was left for it was its destination, though I, supposedly, wouldn’t be reaching there till long past dusk. It seemed I was doomed to stare at this repeating loop of scenery with my only hope for variation being the color of the sky.

“It’s rare to see another person on this leg of the route,” a scratchy, yet oddly kind voice came from next to me, throwing my attention off of the simple pattern of the train’s movement. As I turned my head back to my left, away from the looping scenery in the window, I saw a medium-height, wrinkled and veiled woman, holding a cane, standing by my chair. “Halia rarely ever sees visitors. Our little town is quite far out of the way. Even the passenger trains to and from it only go there once a month.” The old woman gestured her free hand over towards the seat facing me and I gently nodded.

“So, what’s a beautiful young lady like yourself coming to such a musty old town?” the woman asked as she took her seat. “You don’t resemble anyone in town, so I'm guessing you're not coming to see relatives.”

Chuckling, I scratched my head. It seemed the whims of Fate had decided to stave off my consignment to boredom. I had paid no mind to the passenger count, so I thought I was alone, considering Halia’s near-isolated nature. Thank Fate that it seemed like I wasn’t.

A partner in conversation held a wealth of worth on a long, boring ride like this. I was definitely not going to just go and push her away. “I’d heard about the upcoming solstice festival, so I decided that it was something I wanted to experience. You’d be surprised to hear it, but people from the find rural festivals and traditions quite intriguing.”  

Well, it’s not like that was a lie. I’ve always found myself drawn to festivals like a child to a shiny object. Plus, the world of rural areas this far removed from modern society was always enough to pique my interest.

“Ohoho~ So, you’re he adventurous type, huh? Willing to stay that month for a small festival?” Thankfully, the old lady seemed to be enjoying herself. It seemed I had gotten some good entertainment for the long haul. “I’d always heard you city folk were more insular and fragile than the rest of us.” Her eyes drifted off to behind me. “Though, despite your dress, that doesn’t seem to be the case for you. Your fragile visage belies your true nature, young lady.”

The old woman pointed off behind me to the various pieces of luggage I had taking up a good portion of the train car.

“After all, even the most flamboyant of divas don’t carry that many clothes. So, what is it you’re carrying?”

She was observant and had a good pair of still-functioning eyes on her. It seemed we both shared that ersatz sense of fragility we let on.

But, she was right. My numerous and myriad chests and containers were hardly the typical size, shape, or amount of the average person’s luggage. They were all an identical pitch black and while there were a couple of stereotypical rectangular ones, the rest were of myriad shapes and sizes such as y or t-shaped one. “They’re, well…necessary for work. My job doesn’t stop when I travel so I have to keep up.”

I put a hand to my face, closed my eyes, and gave off the most stereotypical childish quick-giggle I could. After all, my frilly cyan dress, corsage and sunhat were meant to give off the air of a sheltered young girl. That mask tended to make my job run more easily.

“My, my, the youth really are quite dedicated people. My grandparents’ generation was always complaining about the next generation and their incapability. But, frankly, I can never see things in that manner.” The old woman seemed to let her mind wander about the pathways of her memories. “The youth tend to be more active and hard-working than they let on to us.”

“We’re hardly as full of decadence as older generations tend to think,” I laughed.

“Soothes the old bones, hearing that does. Ohohoho~” The old woman began to give off one more laugh before turning her head off to the window.

Not good, she was going to cut off the conversation.

We’d barely even spoken for seven minutes. That was hardly the time to cut the conversation short.

I did have one way to extend the conversation. Well, I was going to bring up the question if the conversation lasted long enough anyway.

“What does the concept of immortality mean to you?” It was definitely not within the bounds of most people’s thoughts. I doubted the average person has ever thought of it, but the off-the-cuff responses are probably even more interesting than the ones that people had planned answers for.

Moreover, I imagine it probably came off to the lady as completely out left field.

“Immortality…” The old woman placed her free hand to her cheek and stared off into the monotone green of the outside world. “At my age, people tend to have super varied outlooks on that. But, there was definitely a point in my life when I was obsessed with extending my life. I think I had wanted immortality, or at least incredible longevity. After all, there were so many things in life I had yet to experience.”

Jackpot. There’s something about that topic that always causes people to wander and ramble. Was it the fundamental association to life and death? The potential it held for people to endlessly learn?  

The intrinsic philosophical nature of it, my personal love of the concept, and the potential to run into the chance to use the Socratic Method to draw out the conversation were all fantastic aspects of a talk on immortality.

Ahhhh~ Discourse on immortality is splendid~

“Though, I’d now say immortality is hardly worth it. Death spurs progress. Well, the fear of death does. I mean, people act because they want to do things before they no longer can. Despite how scary death is, I think it’s the one thing that keeps people willing to act.” She looked like she had more to say to me but she decided to cut herself short there. Please don’t. This was supposed to be the ultimate form of discourse. You can’t ju— “But what about you, young lady? I’d love to keep going but it isn’t a conversation if there’s no back and forth.”

She understood me! She wasn’t going to abruptly end our nice, little tête-à-tête.

“To me, huh? Well—”

“Actually, I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves. Let’s do that first.” She turned her head away from the window. “I’m Dana.” The old lady—no Dana—held a hand out in front of her, beckoning a handshake.

My eyelids shot wide open at the sudden interruption, but went back down to their neutral position as I gave off another chuckle.

“I’m terribly sorry. That was quite rude of me.”

I reached my hand out to Dana, sealing our little unspoken contract of conversation.

“They call me Nora.”
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