Post by Writer on Mar 20, 2020 12:47:52 GMT -6
"Hmm...Five...six..."
She wasn't sure how many times she'd actually counted by now, but she tried to keep track of how many times she'd counted to five and go from there. She couldn't even recall making half of the tally marks that were embedded into the sides of the vase and she couldn't even recall that enough time had passed to warrant her actually covering the walls and the floor with groups of five markings. Perhaps the vase itself had the effect of making time difficult to rationalize with her. Was it even daytime right now, or was it night? Was it somewhere in the middle? Or was it none of the above? Maybe she'd been forgetful of things like time for all of her existence and she was just now realizing it.
Then again, if she was an extremely forgetful Genie, then she wouldn't remember that she was forgetful to begin with and the pattern of endless thoughts being forgotten wouldn't ever end. Which was just the funniest conclusion, since the brief assembly of questions and thoughts in her head resulted in her forgetting what it was she was talking about again--or at what tally mark she left off on. The condensed form of magical smoke groaned as she started over again, choosing the one set of tally marks that looked the oldest and starting the count off from that one alone. After some time, she finally managed to reach forty-five sets of five tally marks, which she assumed represented the years distanced between the last master to right now...when she had no master. She didn't quite have a higher sense of math beyond that in her current form, so she guessed that with all the marks she counted, she'd been in here for a very long time. But the most important question was whether she would be able to come out soon. Or ever.
Before she could boredly estimate whether Ever could be described in years or centuries, her surroundings suddenly vibrated and then shook violently. The Genie squeaked in surprise at this sudden development; was all this ruckus a bad sign? A sign that the vase was destroyed? No. This was too familiar for that scenario...
Someone had rubbed the vase.
(I've a simple plot in mind for this, but PM me for questions on it!)
She wasn't sure how many times she'd actually counted by now, but she tried to keep track of how many times she'd counted to five and go from there. She couldn't even recall making half of the tally marks that were embedded into the sides of the vase and she couldn't even recall that enough time had passed to warrant her actually covering the walls and the floor with groups of five markings. Perhaps the vase itself had the effect of making time difficult to rationalize with her. Was it even daytime right now, or was it night? Was it somewhere in the middle? Or was it none of the above? Maybe she'd been forgetful of things like time for all of her existence and she was just now realizing it.
Then again, if she was an extremely forgetful Genie, then she wouldn't remember that she was forgetful to begin with and the pattern of endless thoughts being forgotten wouldn't ever end. Which was just the funniest conclusion, since the brief assembly of questions and thoughts in her head resulted in her forgetting what it was she was talking about again--or at what tally mark she left off on. The condensed form of magical smoke groaned as she started over again, choosing the one set of tally marks that looked the oldest and starting the count off from that one alone. After some time, she finally managed to reach forty-five sets of five tally marks, which she assumed represented the years distanced between the last master to right now...when she had no master. She didn't quite have a higher sense of math beyond that in her current form, so she guessed that with all the marks she counted, she'd been in here for a very long time. But the most important question was whether she would be able to come out soon. Or ever.
Before she could boredly estimate whether Ever could be described in years or centuries, her surroundings suddenly vibrated and then shook violently. The Genie squeaked in surprise at this sudden development; was all this ruckus a bad sign? A sign that the vase was destroyed? No. This was too familiar for that scenario...
Someone had rubbed the vase.
(I've a simple plot in mind for this, but PM me for questions on it!)
