#and context clues as to when cloud sees her + the streak in the sky + the visions of sephiroth etc...his connection to Sephiroth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emblazons · 15 days

Note

i’m about a month late to the ffvii rebirth fanfare but i saw your study/shot comparison for the ending while scrolling through some tags and was really curious to see if you had come up with any more conclusions since then! i just finished it a couple days ago and still reeling from it and have been enjoying hearing people’s thoughts about what the heck they think is going on. obvs cloud is not ok, but i’m still trying to decide just how much of what we’re seeing is due to his sanity going out the window and how much of it (if any) is aerith actually speaking to him and/or sephiroth messing with him. the way he tells the rest of the party to not look up at the sky though and none of them see what he sees, just clues them all in to the fact that he isn’t entirely all there anymore. a collective very concerned side-eye lol. somebody help him pls.

!!! oh friend, you're in a TON of luck: I actually started a few different commentaries on how I saw the ending on this weeks back, but didn't post them because I got distracted by other fandoms? I'm more than happy to share them though—not as developed as they could be, but some congealing of where my mind went upon finishing the game and rewatching the gameplay.

forewarning: FFVII ending spoilers + a long af post lmao

So I wrote this on my twitter (where I go to see things only on twt lol) the other day because of a bunch of concepts were clarified by the Ultimania + translators, which kinda sums up where my thoughts are:

Which...yeah. As I see it: as of the ending, Aerith is in fact dead in our current world (the one of the player narrative). How I see it, she's died in our primary timeline—though likely "alive" in the same way Zack is in some other timeline, in addition to her connection to every "universe" through the power of her connection to the planet as the last Cetra.

The white whispers (which represent Aerith/the will of the planet) as well as the “confluence of world” colors we see with Sephiroth are all around when Cloud supposedly “sees her alive" during the classic death scene—

—an indicator that the event itself was the "confluence" Sephiroth was trying to achieve, with Cloud experiencing several versions of it due to his own connection to Sephiroth/the lifestream/his fragmented mind. We see this both in what Sephiroth says around the event itself....and also the contrasting experiences of our party with what Cloud sees in the moment (+ through end of the game).

As I see it, Cloud’s consciousness by the end of FFVII:R-II is fully fractured; throughout both Remake & Rebirth he is already seeing visions affected by Sephiroth’s influence on the planet (the black whispers, the way hooded men and thin air turn into Sephiroth before his eyes)—and now, during the “confluence of emotions / worlds / reunion” mentioned (Aerith's death), Cloud’s already broken mind is slipping further into seeing “the middle space” of the worlds joined and prepared for destruction by Sephiroth in real time, rather than following the timeline of events in the world we play—a la the post that inspired your ask. :)

All that said: the reason he’s seeing Aerith (not just sensing her the way Red does in his own Lifestream connection) is because she’s a Cetra, and now (in death) the embodiment of the positive!Will of Gaia across worlds—so because of Cloud's connection to that "middle space" / ability to traverse different versions of reality because of his connection to Sephiroth, Cloud is interacting with her presence…despite it not being there for anyone else.

It’s also why he can see the sky split no one else can.

ADDITIONALLY:

The Aerith we see fight alongside Cloud in the final battle and the one we see walking around everyone as Cid fixes the plane…that’s the spirit of her person (think the Aerith of Advent Children). Aerith didn’t live this game—her spirit can communicate because of Sephiroth's successful confluence, though she’s ALSO "alive" in the same way Zack and Biggs are to us: aka she died in the world she was in but still exists in others, which Sephiroth confirms/explains both when Aerith pulls Cloud into another “doomed” world—

when he’s trying to manipulate Cloud in the Lifestream—

and when you’re fighting Sephiroth alongside Aerith in the void during the final battle (after she’s died).

Even so, Aerith “living on” as the last Cetra/the spirit of the planet + someone with access to multiple worlds through the "reunion" means she’s now as able to infiltrate Cloud's ongoing visions as Sephiroth is...and is likely trying to keep him even somewhat present despite his clearly fractured mind.

I think that’s implied repeatedly by through the hollow Holy Materia (implying both Aerith is no longer “there,” but still present + that cloud himself is now hollow)—

—and why/how the Black Materia (Sephiroth) is still manipulating him and very much driving his fractured thoughts, visions and actions.

As for the rest of the party: it's because no one but his “vessel-connected-to-Sephiroth” self (+ now dead-but-living-on-in-the-Lifestream Aerith) has any idea what he learned about worlds in the Lifestream that what’s happening to Cloud is lost on everyone (and why they look painfully concerned), and also why spirit!Aerith repeatedly gives him reminders to 1) not listen to Sephiroth and 2) focus on finding himself again.

All that said: because Cloud’s actual self is already slipping away from our present game TL by the second half of the game, it will have to be retrieved and rearranged—which we know will happen in game 3 (assuming you know the original FF7 plot where Tifa rearranges him in the Lifesteam) but that has to be changed from “Cloud finds out about Zack and finally cracks" because Cloud already knows about Zack in some capacity by the middle of Rebirth.

I personally think this sets us up for a really interesting resolution in that Tifa is going to probably have spirit!Aerith’s help putting Cloud back together in the Lifestream in game 3—and that she will likely play a bigger part in helping Cloud “find himself” in his own world again because it’s been made more apparent that she’s a full consciousness in the Lifestream/able to affect multiple worlds now because of Sephiroth completing the first step in his plan. That's more just hopeful on my part going into the next game than something rooted in analysis though.

But yes! those are my thoughts! I hope this gives you (more than a little) something. Feel free to ask if something isn’t clear though lol this was like 4 different half-done drafts combined 😂 Regardless, ty so much for the ask / giving me a reason to post them!

#I hope this made even one (1) iota of sense. I can clarify in a full post later if you'd like because this was a lot of bits and bobs LOL #still. its been made clear by Nomura and Co she is no longer with us at least in THIS world #and context clues as to when cloud sees her + the streak in the sky + the visions of sephiroth etc...his connection to Sephiroth #through Mako/SOLDIER/something similar to the Sephiclones is why he's out here going THROUGH IT #as Sephiroth converges the world. at least in MY reading #cloud strife #aerith gainsborough #sephiroth #ffvii analysis #ffvii spoilers #ffvii:r spoilers #ffvii #final fantasy #the me tag #asks

21 notes · View notes

respect-the-fae · 4 years

Text

Things that remind me of: Zeus

Watching the clouds with your friends and playing silly games while trying to see shapes in them.

Watching the lightning streak across the sky and making wishes upon every single flash (I used to tell my little brother that lightning was like a shooting star when it's cloudy so we could make wishes on them, it helped him stop being afraid).

Lying in the rain, feeling the cold water soak every inch of you but feeling cleansed.

Crowns. Rings. Things that show your status, show your confidence. That necklace you wear to bring you luck? It has his blessing. He's proud of you and he wants you to walk with your head high.

Collecting storm water.

Standing somewhere high up on a windy day and feeling the wind wrapping around you like a very cold blanket.

Loving your kids. Whether it be your biological kids, the ones you adopt, the friends that you're the Dad friend for, your pets. You might fuck up, but you still love them, and you keep trying, and Zeus is with you for that.

Flirting and s*xual tension. We all know Zeus is a horny-boi, the whole game and tension between 2 people in that context screams big Him energy.

Skateboarding. No fucking clue why, but it reminds me of him!

Justice! Standing up for what is right! Slamming your fist into someone's nose regardless of the consequences because someone is being a bigoted asswipe.

Bird watching.

My Hero Academia. Big Him Vibes.

The concept of godchildren. The kids that aren't yours but you're their parent too in a way, and it's up to you to protect them and guide them if anything happens to their parents and idk, Zeus loves that shit. I always feel his presence when I'm with my goddaughter and im singing her to sleep. Might just be me.

Cheesy garlic bread. Iconic food, comfort food, warm and comforting after a shit day. Garlic bread will never hurt you. I fucking love garlic bread and I always offer some to him and he seems to like it!

I think I've mentioned before that I read to my deities! Zeus likes murder mysteries and he also likes when I read him Matilda. I think he likes Matilda because of the whole justice element against the Trunchbull.

Scars. Proof that you are surviving and winning against every single battle. Surgery scars, that scar from when a dog bit you as a kid, SH scars. He sees all of them and he is proud of you for surviving. He wants you to keep going, because life is cruel but he is the God of Justice and he will make sure you get everything you deserve. He thinks you deserve the goddamn world.

Violent rage. Yeah, he's sweet but he has a temper, and he is aware of it. Violent rage is part of him, but only if it's handled well. If you take it out on someone, verbally or physically, congrats, you're on his shit list. But if you breathe through it, use it to motivate you to do better, to fix things, to rise above those who enrage you? He fuckin loves that shit.

Having like 15 pillows on your bed. I imagine the bed he shares with Hera has like a million pillows, and like 500 blankets bc COMFORT.

Hope ya'll like it!

295 notes · View notes

brittysaucefanfic · 5 years

Text

A Fate Unclaimed

Part 18

(First)(Previous)(Next)(AU 1)(AU 2)(AO3)

Shiro wants to scream in frustration.

It's only been five minutes since they had all sat down at the table, Lance and that Macaria chick facing each other. When they started talking, it was in gibberish, and Shiro could feel dread slide thickly down the back of his throat. It's a normal feeling. You get used to bad things happening when you're a powerful demigod.

Shiro had proceeded to try and tell Lance they they need to leave, but nothing he did worked. It's like Lance is in a trance or something. His pupils are blown wide, and the only thing he can focus on is Macaria. When Shiro or the others successfully drag his attention to them, all Macaria has to do is a make a sound, and not even a loud one.

The click of her fingernails against the table. The quiet chink of her mug when she sets it on the table. A quick intake of breath. She was doing it on purpose too, keeping Lance focused on her and her only while they talked. Shiro knew it by the deliberate smile on her face when she does it again.

"I don't think we'll be able to leave until Macaria is through with Lance." Keith says, a scowl etched across his face. He does that a lot lately, particularly towards Lance.

"Maybe we can figure out the gist of what they're saying by context clues?" Pidge says, a shrug on her shoulders. Shiro sighs and they agree to just sit and watch. Not like they have much choice.

Shiro turns his eyes onto Lance. He’s sitting fairly calmly, maybe a little more tense than comfort calls for. His hands are on the table, his thumb rubbing over a golden ring on his finger. That’s probably where Lance’s bow or quiver transform from. Transformation weapons are beyond rare, usually only given from a demigods parent, usually only if they’re a favored child. Wonder whether the gifter is Lance’s godly parent.

Lance shifts in his seat when Macaria says something to him.

Lance’s face is too impassive for Shiro to read, which is pretty normal. Lance is probably in the top five running for nicest people at camp. Hunk, Shay, and Allura are right up there with him as well. Even so, he has the best poker face. Not even Rolo has been able to win a gamble against him in their secret card games. So Shiro turns to Macaria, who sits lazily, with an open expression. Though as far Shiro knows, that could be mask as well.

She slips her leather jacket off of her left arm, showcasing more tattoos snaking down to her wrist, uncovered from her black Nirvana tank top. Lance looks from the arm to her face, and Macaria says something, nodding at her arm. Lance reaches out, slowly, his hand moving to hover over one of the tattoos. They’re all just long lines, curving like streaks of black wind. After a moment Lance glides one finger over the tattoo, and in its wake a trail of shadows follow. Lance yelps and yanks his hand away like it burned him, making Shiro tense in preparation for battle.

Lance doesn’t act like he’s injured, but when he looks from the arm to his hand, there’s a few lingering shadows sticking to his fingers. Lance shakes his hand rapidly to disperse it. Macaria chuckles, willing the shadows back to her, and she runs her finger across the tattoo, which seams to seal the shadows back where they belonged. Lance’s face is white.

Macaria slips her jacket back on and swipes her hair over her shoulder. Then she and Lance take turns adding to conversation. They don’t do much body language wie after that. A nod here, a pursing of lips, Lance’s raised eyebrow. Then she says something that seems to shock Lance, causing him to jerk in his seat like he’s been slapped.

Then their eyes lock onto Shiro.

Shiro shifts, uncomfortable with the tension and leans closer to Keith, since Hunk and Pidge were on the other side of Lance. When they turn back to face each other, Lance looks visibly troubled. His eyes keep looking back at Shiro though.

“Does anyone else get the feeling they’re talking about me?” Shiro says, and tears his eyes away to look at Keith. He’s giving Shiro the most unimpressed look he’s able to manage.

“No way. Wonder what gave you that idea?” He says sarcastically, and Shiro glares at him, but he turns back to the two gibberish speakers without a retort. Macaria says something, and Lance’s face turns thunderous. Shiro almost expected thunder to roll across the sky. Except that’s what happens to Shiro. He’s never seen Lance this furious, not even when he and Keith started fighting at the council meeting, so Shiro can’t say what exactly would happen if Lance let his fury free.

He suspects the effect would be disastrous, no matter who his godly parent may be.

Lance snaps at her and starts to stand, but Macaria says something, completely unfazed, but not in a very happy manner. Her face is almost as dangerous as lance’s right then. Lance freezes half way to standing, his face torn in two. Then his shoulder deflate and he sits down slowly. Macaria smiles again, almost more dangerous than any other look she’s sported since they met her.

The conversation goes on for another few minutes, Lance’s replies more than a little clipped. When Macaria goes to stand, Shiro tenses again, having relaxed in his seat. Lance stands as well. They’re still talking, and despite Lance’s look of distaste, they shake hands. When they pull away, Lance starts saying something in gibberish one last time, before cutting into English.

“-have a quest to get to, so if you don’t mind taking off the spell now.” Lance says, not seeming to realize they could understand him again. Macaria smiles, and finishes off whatever was in her mug, coffee maybe. She sets the mug down again, but it disappears in a small cloud of smoke before it even touches the table surface.

“I already have child, do remember what we talked about. It may help you on your little quest.” Macaria says, blows him a kiss, steps into the shadow of the room and vanishes in a cloud of black smoke. Lance mutters angrily under his breath, just loud enough to be heard in the silence of the room.

“I’d like to help you to my arrows, you witch.” Lance doesn’t say witch, but close enough. Pidge snorts and Lance looks at her with surprise, his face finally easing back to his usual smile.

“So what was that all about?” Keith asked, tilting his head at Lance. Lance doesn’t answer as he’s walking out of the room. He freezes a few feet into the door, Keith crashing into his back.

“What the hell was-” Keith starts, but he freezes when he sees what the rest of them are looking at. They were no longer standing in a strange building with strange doors. They were all looking at long stretch of empty highway in the middle of the desert. There’s nothing to see for miles, and the sun is hot overhead. Shiro does not like where this is taking them.

“I think I figured out why the door had the symbol of Hermes painted on it.” Lance said.

******

(First)(Previous)(Next)(AU 1)(AU 2)(AO3)

0 notes

astoryasong · 7 years

Audio

A Discovery Immemorial

The crowd cheered wildly from the dock. Women waved their kerchiefs, men whistled and hollered, all had come to bid the expedition adieu.

Jane Ellis Thatcher stood at the fore of the ship. While her crew of waved and beamed in reply to the masses, she had already turned her eyes to the horizon. She had spent years reaching this moment. From traversing the deserts of Africa, to exploring the crypts of eastern Asia, to hunting down expert etymologists in the States, she had literally been all over the world in search of the information contained within the small, worn journal she now held in her hands. Her cropped hair and loose shirt tugged in the breeze as she turned to face her helmsman, a fierce grin spreading across her face. "Set the course and increase speed. Let's make history!"

By the time the crew spotted the storm clouds on the horizon, there was nothing to do but face the maelstrom head-on. Thatcher and her crew scrambled to prepare the ship as they passed beneath the front. As the wind picked up, so did the waves. Lightning streaked across the sky and a chill rain began to beat down upon the deck. "Tie yourselves to the mast, it's going to be a bumpy ride!" she yelled over the thunder. As the storm progressed, the ship began to tilt dangerously from side to side. The crew squinted and bared their teeth as they scrambled to dump buckets of water over the edge, trying to relieve the ship from the water she was taking on.

After almost four hours, just as everyone was beginning to succumb to exhaustion and the cold, the clouds parted, revealing a sparkling night sky. The moon reflected brilliantly upon the calming waves. They had made it.

For the first time in weeks, Thatcher spotted a bird. Soon, if her manuscript was correct, they would be able to see land. Sure enough, before the sun had even reached its halfway point, her navigator spotted mountains through their spyglass. The expedition approached the shore quickly. Within a few hours, they had anchored the boat and rowed to meet the white sand. A hundred meters or so from the edge of the water, a dense green rainforest loomed. A cacophony of unidentifiable chirps, yowls, hisses, clicks, and snorts resounded from within the tree line. Thatcher eyed the forest warily. "Let's make camp here tonight. Tomorrow, we begin our trek."

Two crewmembers walked in front of the group, their machetes glinting as they hacked a path through the dense underbrush. Thatcher followed closely behind, compass in one hand, journal in the other. The rest followed after, sweat pouring down their faces as they shouldered backpacks that extended past the tops of their heads. Every few hundred feet, Thatcher consulted the little book in her hands--at this pace, they might be able to make the halfway point by tomorrow evening. Upon reaching a small clearing, the crew paused to fish out their canteens. One glanced upwards. "Ma'am, should we make camp for the night?" Thatcher peered at the now pastel pink sky through the gaps in the canopy and nodded. With a sigh of relief, the crew dropped their supplies and began to pitch their tents.

Light snoring and sporadic rustling could be heard coming from within the small tents circling the campfire. Thatcher sat next to the fire, squinting at the pages of her journal as she made note of the day's events. Today's excursions had seen breathtaking waterfalls surrounded by misty rainbows, birds in a spectacular array of colors and sizes, and some particularly quick quicksand, which had claimed one person's right shoe. Consumed by her writing, Thatcher failed to notice the large cat silently prowling the tree line. Only when she heard the scream of the beast did her head snap up. She threw up her arms just in time to protect her face as the cat knocked her onto her back, pinning her to the ground. It snapped at her throat. Thinking quickly, Thatcher stuffed the journal into the cat's maw and scrambled backwards. The cat shook its head and spat out the little book before refocusing on its prey.

It crouched and snarled as it inched towards her. Thatcher backed away slowly, eyes darting as she looked for her machete. She spotted it... on the other side of the camp. With a terrible yowl, the cat lepta at her, and a bang echoed throughout the clearing. The cat landed on Thatcher, sending her back to ground, but to her surprise, the creature was limp. With a grunt, she pushed the cat off and got to her feet. One of her crew was standing on the other side of the fire, a smoking pistol in hand. They grinned at each other before Thatcher returned her attention on the dead cat. It would have almost passed for a leopard, if not for the green pelt. "How strange," Thatcher murmured. She looked for her journal, eager to record this finding. Apart from a toothy indentation in the leather cover, the journal was intact, if not a bit sticky. Without a moment's hesitation, she returned to her writing spot beside the campfire, her machete now within arm's reach.

They stood before the cavern. The entrance was nearly 30 feet tall, but despite the expansive opening, the cave seemed to take in very little light. According to Thatcher's notes, this cave marked the last leg of their journey. Beyond this final obstacle, if her decades of research were correct, laid the ruins of the lost city of the N'täyli people. Assuming they existed in the first place, the N'täyli were rumored to be a people of immense agricultural, medicinal, and mechanical aptitude, far more advanced than any other cultures during at the height of their civilization nearly 1,500 years ago. There had even been hintings at a N'täyli attempt to reach the stars, something the modern world had yet to achieve. If Thatcher found these ruins, not only would her name go down in history, but she could help unlock the mysteries of the N'täyli's near-mythical technological feats, perhaps leading to significant ameliorations in her own day and age. "Time to get out the lanterns, ma'am?" The question from her crew brought her mind back to the present. "Yes, good idea. Let's get going," she replied, as apprehensive as she was determined.

The lanterns did little to cut through the darkness that enveloped them. The cave, which cut into the side of the mountains they had first spied from the boat several weeks ago, proceeded at an upward angle. This proved treacherous, as not only was the uneven floor coated in a sheen of slick dampness and moss, but the walls and ceiling were covered with rocky protrusions and formations. A wrong step could spell death. Thatcher held her lantern close to her journal, re-reading the final line for the thousandth time. "Seek the stars that aren't to find the stars that are." Of all the clues she had discovered, this was the most perplexing. In any language, it sounded like nonsense. The tablet she had found it engraved upon provided no other context. She had researched constellations and spent hours in labs and libraries and planetariums. She had even placed the clue in her local classifieds, hoping someone would read it and miraculously contact her with an answer. To no avail. For this part of her journey, she was on her own.

A yell pierced the air. Thatcher whipped her head around, looking for the source of the noise. One of the team had slipped over the side of the ledge they had all been inching along. Thatcher's heart thudded in her chest as she peered over the ledge to the chasm below. There, precariously dangling from a jutting rock by a single backpack strap, hung her crewmember. "Help me!" they called, panic lacing their voice. Thatcher immediately pulled a rope out of her pack, tossing one end to the rest of her crew and lowering the other towards the person below. With the rope only inches away from their outstretched hand, a sharp cracking noise echoed throughout the cavern. Everything happened in slow motion. Thatcher and her crewmember looked at each other for one, terrifying moment. Then, the rock formation from which they hung crumbled. They kept eye contact with Thatcher as they fell, their screaming ending abruptly with the sound of a heavy thud.

Thatcher stared into darkness. The cave was eerily silent. "Ma'am," one of her remaining team put their hand on her shoulder, "There's nothing we can do. Let's keep going, get away from this ledge." Just as they turned to go, Thatcher threw up her hand. "No, wait," she hissed. All she could hear for a few moments was the dripping of water, until...

"Thatcher?" a weak voice rasped from below. Her heart leapt in her chest. "Are you all right?" she called. "I think my arm's broken, but ma'am, you gotta see this."

It had taken some time, but finally Thatcher and the remainder of her crew had found a way to reach their teammate. They were bruised, and their arm was definitely broken, but as soon as she found them, they had immediately directed her attention to a small opening in the rock wall to her right. Thatcher held her lantern out in front of her as she ducked through the entrance. Then, her jaw dropped.

She was standing in a huge cavern. A small lake filled the basin of the cave, which reflected the light of the thousands and thousands of stars set into the ceiling above. Well, not stars exactly, but something that glowed like stars. Her crew shuffled in behind her, and all were also taken aback. The sight was incredible. But even more incredible was the tiny glimpse of morning light filtering in from the ceiling on the other side of the cave. "Seek the stars that aren't to find the stars that are," Thatcher grinned. Time to go for a little swim.

If climbing down the rock face earlier had been difficult, then this was excruciating. One crewmember was injured, all of them were soaking wet, and Thatcher found limited purchase amongst the stones as she looked for ways to reach the exit above. At least the bit of sunlight streaming through the opening was helpful. "Let me give it a go," one of her crew suggested. "Once I get up there, I'll toss the rope down." Thatcher obliged and handed over the rope. They began to scale the wall, exhibiting a finesse that could only have come from years of experience. She knew she had put together a good team, but she was especially proud of them in this moment. She only hoped that this had all been worth their while.

During their climb, the crewmember had a couple of close calls, their damp fingers slipping from their hold, but after about fifteen minutes, they had reached the top. They scrambled through the opening, and Thatcher waited for the rope. It didn't come. She called out to them, worry creeping over her thoughts for a moment before she heard a muffled, excited reply. She couldn't make out what they said, but moments later, the rope fell through the opening and onto the floor in front of her feet. "Okay, you guys first."

One of her crew threw their injured teammate over their shoulder and, grunting with effort, strained to pulled the both of them up the rope. Thatcher watched them slowly proceed, her thoughts rapidly spinning. "Seek the stars that aren't to find the stars that are." That was the last clue. There were no more instructions after this, no riddles nor maps nor diagrams. The N'täyli ruins were either here, or this was a dead end. Or, the ruins would be so ravaged by time, that there was naught left to study. Or, the N'täyli had never existed.

Thatcher took a deep breath and steadied herself. She was the leader of this expedition, and she needed to be confident and decisive in her actions. The last member of her crew was nearing the top of the rope. She took one last look at the glowing cavern behind her, and began her ascent.

The sunlight burned her eyes. She placed a hand over her face for a moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust. She could hear the heavy breathing of her crew members, but otherwise, they were silent. That was odd. And there was something in the background--a humming noise? She wasn't sure. She once again attempted to open her eyes, doing so more slowly this time.

Before her laid the most spectacular sight of her life. In the valley beneath the plateau on which they stood rested an enormous, glistening city. Miles and miles of tall, silver buildings shone brightly in the sunlight, nestled comfortably in between the surrounding mountains. Small specks bustled about on streets below, and the source of the humming seemed to emanate from the hundreds of glittering crafts zipping through the air amongst the structures. The N'täyli, it would seem, were alive and well.

Thatcher sank to her knees. This discovery surpassed her wildest dreams. There, before her own eyes, was a civilization that was not only thriving, but had seemed to surpass the rest of the world. The city blurred into a silver haze as tears welled in her eyes. One of her crew punched her arm, "We did it!" Thatcher leapt to her feet, grinning from ear to ear, and laughed in giddy celebration with her team.

She peered back at the city below. She could just make out three small, shining aircrafts rising towards the plateau, each appearing to carry a single rider. Thatcher smiled one more time at her crew before pushing back her hair, yanking her shirt straight, and turning to face the oncoming vehicles. If she was going to be the first to see the N'täyli in over 1,500 years, she would be damned if she wasn't going to make a good first impression.

- LMR

#a story a song #writing #music #rob dougan #explorer #jungle #lost civilizations #exploration #lost world

1 note · View note