Mythic - Tumblr Posts
M Y T H I C
It rains today.
Bruised purplish clouds hang low in the surreal, majestic sky of Halo. Between marble-carved tufts and crags looms the distant Ring curve; distant etched surfaces gorgeously tiny from vastness.
Familiar trees, so painfully familiar and alien all at once, shift gently in a soft breeze. Tall grasses seem to waver like an illusion.
The Master Chief—John— walks quietly in the wilderness. There are no birds that sing, no creatures with their cacophony of noises. Nothing but breeze, but the distant thunder rumbling, but his own heavy steps, but pattering rain drops.
Is this a dream?
His armor feels.. different. Foreign. The weight is so pristinely light yet comfortable and inviting in a way that is almost unreal. Pieces seem to readjust or move. Hardlight shimmers on encased joints, along geometric patterns. His rifle is alive with a mind between each sizable bullet. Intelligent currents seem to trace glowing pathways across the midnight dark alloy.
John, walks quietly across the rolling hills, changed. Cortana, the Flood, the Librarian. An ocean of thoughts deep and dark as the abyss flow through his mind, quietly tsunami swells crashing.
Pieces of memories blossom in the half light of consciousness.
Lives he can’t remember, voices and faces and sensations ethereal as the dreams that wake him in the night.
A cackling Machine that once threatened him and laughed and laughed and laughed in hazy starlight..
A vast and alabaster sphere crackling with purpose, roaring with intent, resurrection amongst rusting tombs and trees that bled wine..
A monster that rose in the bodies of heroes, endless cycles, Atlantis reborn over and over in warring kingdoms hearts..
Thunder rumbles, far away.
A voice speaks in the thunder..
[sorry for going anon, @sledposting, but thank you sincerely for your kindness and openness. I’m sorry this might read a bit strange and off, I originally was going to go with a much shorter paragraph or two about the Arbiter and John around the campfire on Sanghelios prior to the Infinity’s departure, but figured I’d go with an old theory I liked about all Bungie related material.
It’s a huge space, a room in somewhere so vast that the horizon is just endless black wall and endless black space.
There’s an ocean with dark waves you can sense and hear, but can’t see.
And an island at the center of it, with a city. Look around you and see the ships. They are behemoths, huge and angular and organic, arching skeletal profiles silhouetted. They are waiting.
Everything is smooth as stone and ebony like a night without stars, cut through with fine lines of amber, gold, ivory. Soft, organic light pulses in those countless lines. Ancient, undeniable heartbeats.
It’s freezing. Your breath comes out in billowing fog. Thin, dark ice frosts across structures as if it were a fine artisanal coating.
The doorways are too tall for anyone human, and they flower open, or the seams vanish making the entrance into a wall. Nothing has blemishes, nothing here has been built. It’s grown. Manifested. Every surface is eerily warm against the biting cold, ridged with intricate carvings so small you have to feel them to know they are there.
Everything is too big for normal people, avenues are so wide and broad, buildings like skyscrapers that simply vanish up into shadow. It goes on and on. A labyrinth for titans.
Everything meets at the center, at a statue ringed by black water in circular canals, but it’s so massive that you can’t see it up in the gloom, just two claws on the mount, and giant legs bent backward at the joints. Is it a God for the vanished builders? A triumphant warrior? You feel an awful foreboding, an ominous realization that somewhere far above you— the statue is looking back.
They know you are here.