Snippet #767925

In a non-existence place a golden baton rose and fell in a steady beat; one, two, three, four. A pale hand gripped the handle with leisure, her eyes white with blindness, watching the invisible sheets of music pass before her. She watched as the dainty strings played the soothing melodies of milky way, the woodwinds twinkle out the shining stars, the steady beating of the percussion section marking each revolution of the planet. This woman, Lining, kept this orchestra of the Universe going, flipping through her unwritten score that lay on a stand that sat no where.

Lining, raising her baton from the count of four to the new count of one paused. The entire orchestra faltered, expect perhaps one; a lone violin playing something that was apart from all the rest. Lining's hesitation only lasted for a moment, sternly directing all to play again, even the lone musician.

Lining ponders as she conducts, something she has not done for many centuries. How odd those humans are, how odd those dimentionals are! She wonders what is truly going on as the dimensionals were all in a riot.

'How silly' was her thought, though, deep inside, she could feel something that had hibernated in her for long. Lining could no longer do what she had done long ago, it was in the hands of the other's now.