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May Character Development Exercise
Don't let them tell you that it doesn't take practice, it does. Lots and lots of practice. Hours of practice, hell days and weeks and even years of it. Holding your hand, stretching your body in just the right way, trying hard not to make any sudden movement. Trying hard to concentrate, for what you build up can fall so much faster than you could ever dream. Don't try to force it, don't over-analyze, and don't let yourself falter, or hesitate. And for god's sake, don't BREATHE.
The world will fade away, the colors dimming to mere shadows and shades of gray if you concentrate hard enough. This is your goal, this singular space becomes your world. And layer by layer you build it up, so intricate, so very exquisite. So carefully you plot and plan and mold your world, this corner of the universe that you dream of calling your own.
Feel the delicate paper edge, the rounded corners between the pads of your fingertips. Perfectly flat, perfectly smooth. Crisp and new, no bends or tears. And when one or two layers are complete, you then reach for the next pack. You listen close, hearing the cellophane crinkle as you dig your nail into the edge of the cardboard. Slowly you slide your nail across, slicing through the wrapping easily, opening it fresh and new to the world. Your world. The one you are creating. The slickness of the plastic can slip in a sweaty hand, but don't let it fall, not here, not now! There, finally your nail has sliced through the clear covering, and it gets ripped away, the top opened. And now more building blocks slide down easily within your grasp.
Decisions, decisions. Is the floor too thick or too wide? Are the supports strong enough? Is it too ornate, not sturdy enough? It must be strong, it has to be. Strong enough to stand the test of time, it must be sturdy enough to withstand the stress of the layers that come after. But then, making it purely functional would destroy the beauty. So yet again a subtle balance must at all costs be achieved.
Then time goes by and you find that you cannot escape this corner you have backed yourself into, this building you have created. But then, do you truly want to? too much time has gone into it. Your imagination, your sweat and blood, your soul - all to make something so grand, so tall. To walk out now could cause it to tumble down, even the slamming of a door could have unforseen consequences. That stray gust of wind in the hall outside, do you truly wish to see if your creation will stand against it? Wouldn't you rather have a few more walls set in place first, a bit more protection? And then, perhaps another layer, another deck used up as well? Or, with the wind outside your door, wouldn't you rather keep ityourself hidden, safe and secure for ever?
There is the question you must at last ask yourself. How high can it go? How many floors, how many cards, how many decks can you use? How much do you truly dare to build?
And finally, in the end when you've reached as high as you dare, far beyond the dreams of others and now so far above even your own; do you have what it takes to keep it together? And, more telling, do you have what it takes to watch it come tumbling down? No, not only through your own fault, for you did the best you could. But instead your world, your tower to the gods is destroyed due the whims and desires of another. What would you do?
What should I do?
This then is my question to you, this is your choice. This decision I now face. This world I built around me, this house of cards that grew to be a such a force to be reckoned with, a tower to the gods now lies in ashes at my feet. Do I rebuild from the rubble, pick up the pieces of what was once real and is now no more? Do I burn the cards, sending both Joker and King to the pyre, shedding tears of rage to turn and in revenge go destroy the homes of others as my own was destroyed? Or do I simply, quietly close the door on this room of scattered cards and lost dreams, leave it forever with the memories that remain? The memory that once there was a world we made, once there was a tower that stretched high above our heads into the sky to challenge the sun? And for a moment, a beautiful, crazy, wonderful moment, ithe was my world.
*OOC note* the mun is terribly tired, it's been a hectic night at work and has quite forgotten her html. I know this should be under the cut and all, but for the life of me, I can't remember how to do it at the moment.
OOC note #2. PS, Trinity_matrix3 Mod I'm hoping this is what you meant by writing a story. If I'm wrong, I'll gladly edit this to what you did mean. I'm leaving it on Pepper's journal for now, until I get clarification that this is what you meant by the exercise, and then I'll post it to the TN IC board, ok?
Don't let them tell you that it doesn't take practice, it does. Lots and lots of practice. Hours of practice, hell days and weeks and even years of it. Holding your hand, stretching your body in just the right way, trying hard not to make any sudden movement. Trying hard to concentrate, for what you build up can fall so much faster than you could ever dream. Don't try to force it, don't over-analyze, and don't let yourself falter, or hesitate. And for god's sake, don't BREATHE.
The world will fade away, the colors dimming to mere shadows and shades of gray if you concentrate hard enough. This is your goal, this singular space becomes your world. And layer by layer you build it up, so intricate, so very exquisite. So carefully you plot and plan and mold your world, this corner of the universe that you dream of calling your own.
Feel the delicate paper edge, the rounded corners between the pads of your fingertips. Perfectly flat, perfectly smooth. Crisp and new, no bends or tears. And when one or two layers are complete, you then reach for the next pack. You listen close, hearing the cellophane crinkle as you dig your nail into the edge of the cardboard. Slowly you slide your nail across, slicing through the wrapping easily, opening it fresh and new to the world. Your world. The one you are creating. The slickness of the plastic can slip in a sweaty hand, but don't let it fall, not here, not now! There, finally your nail has sliced through the clear covering, and it gets ripped away, the top opened. And now more building blocks slide down easily within your grasp.
Decisions, decisions. Is the floor too thick or too wide? Are the supports strong enough? Is it too ornate, not sturdy enough? It must be strong, it has to be. Strong enough to stand the test of time, it must be sturdy enough to withstand the stress of the layers that come after. But then, making it purely functional would destroy the beauty. So yet again a subtle balance must at all costs be achieved.
Then time goes by and you find that you cannot escape this corner you have backed yourself into, this building you have created. But then, do you truly want to? too much time has gone into it. Your imagination, your sweat and blood, your soul - all to make something so grand, so tall. To walk out now could cause it to tumble down, even the slamming of a door could have unforseen consequences. That stray gust of wind in the hall outside, do you truly wish to see if your creation will stand against it? Wouldn't you rather have a few more walls set in place first, a bit more protection? And then, perhaps another layer, another deck used up as well? Or, with the wind outside your door, wouldn't you rather keep it
There is the question you must at last ask yourself. How high can it go? How many floors, how many cards, how many decks can you use? How much do you truly dare to build?
And finally, in the end when you've reached as high as you dare, far beyond the dreams of others and now so far above even your own; do you have what it takes to keep it together? And, more telling, do you have what it takes to watch it come tumbling down? No, not only through your own fault, for you did the best you could. But instead your world, your tower to the gods is destroyed due the whims and desires of another. What would you do?
What should I do?
This then is my question to you, this is your choice. This decision I now face. This world I built around me, this house of cards that grew to be a such a force to be reckoned with, a tower to the gods now lies in ashes at my feet. Do I rebuild from the rubble, pick up the pieces of what was once real and is now no more? Do I burn the cards, sending both Joker and King to the pyre, shedding tears of rage to turn and in revenge go destroy the homes of others as my own was destroyed? Or do I simply, quietly close the door on this room of scattered cards and lost dreams, leave it forever with the memories that remain? The memory that once there was a world we made, once there was a tower that stretched high above our heads into the sky to challenge the sun? And for a moment, a beautiful, crazy, wonderful moment, it
*OOC note* the mun is terribly tired, it's been a hectic night at work and has quite forgotten her html. I know this should be under the cut and all, but for the life of me, I can't remember how to do it at the moment.
OOC note #2. PS, Trinity_matrix3 Mod I'm hoping this is what you meant by writing a story. If I'm wrong, I'll gladly edit this to what you did mean. I'm leaving it on Pepper's journal for now, until I get clarification that this is what you meant by the exercise, and then I'll post it to the TN IC board, ok?
