this time, he's standing underneath the orange sky, sheets of flames
surrounding a path towards a place both familiar and strange. the air smelled
of fire and ashes… this is, without a doubt, an unlikely time for this sort
of catastrophic disposition but heroes are born into times of
unpredictability and instability not into idle inactivity. a hero is a
function of need as his existence and participation is entirely necessary and
never optional. his success might, however, be.
but for now, let's just worry about the usually unusually orange sky... and
the air that smells of ash.
and the unlikely time for this sort of hero.
