[color=DAA520][b][h1][center]Act One, Scene Five: The Curtain Closes[/center][/h1][/b][/color] [hr] Yamat. Was. Furious. He could feel it coming, he was sure all gods could feel it coming, his time in this world was coming to an end, his play, his beautiful play! It would all be unfinished, at the very least, his creations might be safe, he was sure the sword would cause problems, and his children, the Reshut and Iskrill would be more than happy to continue his work when he was gone. He had found himself upon the beaches of the Kylsar isles when it came to come for him, well, they were somewhat beaches, the coast of these isles blended into the inland swamps rather beautifully. Yamat kneeled down upon the shore, looking outward towards the sea and Toraan. Taking it in, taking everything in. He wanted to fight it, but he knew it was a futile effort, when the lifeblood began to show its presence, he merely sat, ignoring it, he would not show it any emotion, any respect, any acknowledgement, he just looked outward towards the ocean. It took him away softly, leaving only the quiet wind of the shores in his place. [hr] When Yamat awoke, it was dark, painfully so. He looked around, only to see an empty void in all directions. Raising his hands, the runes upon his skin glowed, at least, he had that, at least the lifeblood had not gotten rid of him, only locked him up. There were, worse fates. Yamat merely raised his hands and conducted a silent song once more, his eye closing, allowing the darkness to surround him. Around him, a shore was created, a beautiful shore, overlooking a great sea with a bright sun, the sounds of animals filtered in from the vast forest behind him, he opened his eye and lowered his hands. Looking out upon the shore. His fists clenched, his skin turned a stark white, his halo a deep red, his once golden mask and skirt turned as black as his former skin. He. Was. Furious. In instants the scene was gone, purged from his prison with the wave of his hand, he did not conduct anymore, this pitiful mockery did not deserve that. Instead, he destroyed, he turned the shore into a barren wasteland, engulfing the trees in a great fire, the ocean was destroyed, and the sun made into a blackened twisted remnant of its former self. His mask began to crack, yet he continued. Stones were shattered, mountains created then broken into dust, the dirt was made lifeless, a disgusting grey soot that barely would stay in place as the harsh winds whipped through the vast wasteland. He made mountains and jagged rocks, he searched through his mind and created the bones of creatures upon Galbar, and finally, he created the ruins, testaments to tragedy and its work, each one detailing the scenes of the play of life. His mask shattered. Yamat lowered his hand, gazing upon his prison, its broken land, his work, his, furious, work. He gently picked up the fragments of his mask, at least, he did not need it anymore, for he guessed he would be stuck here. He slowly walked through his prison, his skin returning to its normal color, his halo dimming, becoming golden like his skirt and former mask. He had grown tired of walking. He raised his free hand, crafting a small canopy, it was shoddy yes, but he did not care, he made himself a table, and chair, a place to rest. He placed himself within the chair, laying the fragments of his mask onto the table. He began to scratch his plans into the table, imagining what could have been. He stayed like this for a while, sitting, scratching, staring, he did not care how long it had been, time was nothing to him. That was, until the portal appeared, it appeared a bit away from his simple table, sitting there, Yamat did not know what to make of it. He only stared at it for another length of time, taking in its creation. He looked back upon the fragments of his mask, with a wave of a glowing runic hand, he fused them back together, placing the returned mask back upon his face. He slowly rose from his chair, taking another look at his plans upon the table. He finally turned back to the portal, pressing forward. The curtains were opening once more. [hider=summary] Yamat is upset over his future yeeting from the world, while he wants to fight against the lifeblood, he instead opts to just ignore it and enjoy the view. Upon arriving to his new realm he first recreates that scene, before growing furious once more and destroying it completely, resulting in the creation of his realm, the endless wastes. Once done he retires to a newly created canopy rest area, where he spends his isolation sketching his former plans until a portal arrives, gathering himself up Yamat opts to head through, ready to continue his play. [/hider]