Post by Matthew Williams on Sept 18, 2010 23:11:42 GMT -5
Standing in the midst of what had once been a square full of tourists flocking to see the once majestic beauty of the Eiffel Tower, Matthew felt the sense of isolation in the area as a near palpable pressure. He was transfixed, staring up at the ruined mass that he remembered from visiting it so many years ago, eyes moving sadly as he let the image cement itself into his mind. It was his own fault – he should not have come. It would have been much easier on him if he had left that image of the old icon as it was in his brain, rather than facing this relic that resembled nothing of what he remembered.
His only motivation had been to see for himself the level of devastation. Matthew had not seen nor heard any trace of Francis or Arthur at all. It came to the point where he understood that the only way he would know for certain how they were or where they might be in the world was by coming here in person. The Canadian averted his face away from the ruined Tower, searching the expanse of the silent streets around him. Would Francis be here? Would Arthur? There was no telling what he would find here in the ruins of Paris, or who might stumble across his path.
Matthew snuck a hand towards his back. His fingers touched on the worn handle of his axe. There was a chance that his weapon might alarm people in the city, even harnessed away as it was. Still, the Canadian wasn’t comfortable with the idea of putting it out of arm’s reach until he had fully assessed the situation in the faded city around him. He peered off in the direction of where activity could be heard, hesitating briefly before trekking that way to see what destiny had in store for him.
His only motivation had been to see for himself the level of devastation. Matthew had not seen nor heard any trace of Francis or Arthur at all. It came to the point where he understood that the only way he would know for certain how they were or where they might be in the world was by coming here in person. The Canadian averted his face away from the ruined Tower, searching the expanse of the silent streets around him. Would Francis be here? Would Arthur? There was no telling what he would find here in the ruins of Paris, or who might stumble across his path.
Matthew snuck a hand towards his back. His fingers touched on the worn handle of his axe. There was a chance that his weapon might alarm people in the city, even harnessed away as it was. Still, the Canadian wasn’t comfortable with the idea of putting it out of arm’s reach until he had fully assessed the situation in the faded city around him. He peered off in the direction of where activity could be heard, hesitating briefly before trekking that way to see what destiny had in store for him.