If you don't tilt a teapot far enough, the water does not spill out all of the way, and you end up drinking cold tea later. That is the same for my situation, for I am cold tea stuck in a teapot. It was my choice, but quickly, the feelings of a newfound isolation were coming over me.

An assignment of duties out of sheer emergency, and harsh words that still blessed me nethertheless.

"If you're so attached to this decaying world, then be the one who watches over and and delays the inevitable."

And such, the quiet world was mine to dwell in. Exploring around was the first thing I did -- I was given an unlimited access, but it was one that dissapointed. Wherever I went felt empty as the last room. Furniture, lights, everything as gone as the winds and the people who owned it. It all blended together into a bittersweet blue. My journey continued for hours, and except for a few exceptions, including my quarters of a room left alone, forgotten trinkets, and otherwise, it truly emerged a truth unable to be avoided. Everything and everyone had already moved onto the next world, the lands, and here I was, clinging onto what could've been so much more if I had just done my job well.