It has been the third time by now, was it not? Of this draft, that is.
[ Aether sounds too thoughtful and distant for someone leaving a message on the network during the morning. For those anywhere near the 7th community building, he can be found in the kitchen of the 4th floor. He peacefully sits on the windowsill, his head leaning on the glass
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[ His voice suddenly grows deeper and harsher. ]
The idea of war is to keep fighting until one side is victorious. When it comes to victory, death is not a necessity... 'tis merely an unfortunate possibility.
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[Because he sure hasn't.]
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[ Aether's response is a soft sound of pain and a soft shifting of clothes, his hand rising up to rest on his temple. This is strange. There is something missing from his memories, isn't there..? ]
I don't... [ A wince. ] I may not have the memory anymore, but I know it's possible. One day, somehow, I have seen it done.
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They were supposed to be done by midnight, no? 'Tis strangely quiet for that.
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How often are these drafts, usually?
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About one per two months, no?
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Unless one has done everything to make the impossible possible, I don't think there's a place to worry about such things.
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[ That's a good question. Aether himself isn't sure why the thought popped up in his mind, except that it felt right at the time. ]
I was worried, I guess.
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[ Hey, this is a familiar voice... ]
I believe the wind is coming from the east.
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Is that the way the mountains are?
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[ A thoughtful pause. ]
Is there a path through the mountains somewhere?
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