Arcaea -Influx Lumière et Conflit- (FNF/Arcaea/OC) [Still continue]

Chapter 1: Eternal Core (Side: Pragmatism -Michael Chapter-)

His first impression was that he awakened in the vast fields, surrounded cloud of glass butterflies, First noticing shards. They lend him outside as Michael raise his hand, The arcaea shards also float as Michael commanded in his will

"Beautiful..." he thought "that these figures can move as well. But, What about something that is called threads and springs?"

Picking up his bonnet, fixing his shirt and put on his glasses, he found out that there were no strings in these glass butterflies;

These glass butterflies isn't...butterflies either, they are glass..

"..Shards.."

Yes, these glasses were not glass butterflies, but Glass shards.

The glass reflected another worlds than the one in white surrounding him. In it he could see reflections of seas, cities, fires, lights, and villages; he rose his hand to scatter them, and smiled

He didn't know these pieces of glass had a name: Arcaea.
To tell the truth, they were so beautiful that it didn't matter the name.
He entertained himself by touching them, swirling them, watching them, making a "puzzle game" of them, dance with them. They were not enough, no?

There were six questions to ask: who, what, where, when, why, and how.
Of these questions, He asked none and desired no answers, content instead to bask in the glow of Arcaea.
This was his meeting, and his journey with a new world.

A Luminous world..

But questions come inevitably.

The young man stands amidst the spiral of glass and his wonders, "But really, what are these?"
Portals? Windows? Memories?

"...Memories"

This last question strikes a chord with him. "They're memories," he says, faintly. And like that, his questions stop before saying one more time "These shards contains Memories of the Worlds.."

For some reason, this is a place all full of memories. Whose memories, or of what, he can't tell for certain,
but his questioning has already ended.

For some reason the glass follows him. He can't hold any of it, but it comes to his nonetheless. On a whim,
He decides he will begin gathering it in hopes of finding a happier memory and place

Piece by piece
For no reason, at all

But he soon wondering about this;

He walked outside, and walked, walked, walked and walked once again..

Without a clock, he has no sense for how many days or hours he has walked, but there is a new certainty
in his head...

There is beauty in a memory, that's what he finds himself believing. Thinking about it, a memory is never certain, can change with the times, and yet is the nearest thing to a concrete piece of the past. Neither Beyond, Future, Present or Past, He dosen't matter about it

It can be spicy, bitter or sweet, and he thinks in either case they're quite enchanting, Beautiful and yet, Pure Lovely.

He will see what memories he can, of these other places and people, and appreciate them for their beauty. Sometimes, not only that, The shards also collecting some musical notes from other worlds and resonate then with music, A music that the young man never know

In the first place, these Arcaea flicker and glow splendidly in this strange and ruined world.
It's easy to fancy it all, and that they show memories makes it easier.

Lumping, hands down and aloft and walked into broken and unbroken paths and staircases, He smiled again, as the Arcaea shards of light follows him, like a Servant following it masters, brings what seems to be memories fit for an entire world with him, following behind in a shining stream. Memories of an ugly, pretty world...

"So beautiful..how nice.." He sighs, he smiles, and serenity becomes him.

Joy, happiness, gentle and pure too become him, it seems, too well.
But there's nothing to worry about.
A pleasant, simple world like this need only be pleasant, cheerful, and mostly, Pristine. Nothing more.
.
.
.
.
Because nothing could go wrong collecting these shards of happiest memories
....Right?