Sentiments in times of old, those going beyond the distance. Selfishness of the path, unwillingness of it. Embracing their imperfections, reaching for the nigh impossible. Cruelness continuously existing, never ending of its horribleness. Hope in the farthest of blackness, a lesson throughout time. Countless holding onto this, hearts riding along in the wind. Clashing against others, shouting what is within. An entity of softness, once of happiness. Separation of two of nearness, tormenting agony. Years going by, no longer willing in remaining in silence. Returning to the surface, seeking her deepest desire. Damning those in her presence, her unrelenting resolve. Endlessness of her strife, a chance coming.

Grasping it, becoming the enemy. Able in living her wish, settling down in a village. Smallness of it, niceness no less. An establishment of extravagance of her home, a mansion of largeness. Fields of flowers surrounding the structure, a fountain at the center. Gentleness of the flowing breeze, an iguana resting on the front porch. Warmness of the sun shining down, another day of peacefulness. Fleetingness of dreams, painfulness in parting. Togetherness of betterment, not bending to another. Grievances of old, memories never leaving. An entity no longer inside of an abyss of loneliness, relishing in her life of pleasantness. Liveliness of a village, laughter's and smaller squabbles. Shops along the corners, each experiencing life to their pleasure.

"Mom...I'm feeling sick..." A boy groaning.

"No, you just want to bother Cyra. You can't do so all the time, she has many to take care of." Disbelief of his mother.

"Aww..."

Youngness of individuals, children liking her presence. Illnesses of littleness, friendliness of her. Making time for them, her heart of warmness. Unawareness on her strifes, numerous proceeding with their day. Flying days, years going by. Continuously remaining in place, enjoying her life. Softness within, brightness once again on the surface. Loving the worlds, infinite in mystery of it. Actions of old, damning innumerable. Selfishness of her, igniting emotions. Misery in a realm of mortals, this never changing. Tininess of progress, endlessness of possibilities.

Some heading towards a clinic, an inviting sign on the side, whiteness of the building. That opening door, the granite flooring. A desk at the front, a computer on the side. Seats along the ends, plants lining around. Coldness of it, a television in the corner. A bit in a line, that young woman at the front. Hair of longness, reflecting the sun, a red ribbon at the base. Vision of crimson, colorlessness of her coat. A grey shirt underneath, her pants extending down. Typing on a keyboard, adjusting scheduling. Her attention on a man, his hand at the back of his head in some embarrassment. Captivating of her eyes, her smiling of faintness.

"Six months from now is your next checkup, I will be certain to send you a message." She informs him.

"Ah thanks, and before you say it. I know, cut back on the junk." He sighs.

"Hehe, indeed." She agrees.

Reason in attending, each of their own. Providing aid to numerous, her supplies of limitation. Perfecting her research, venturing to another realm. Those living their lives, cultivating to their benefit. Naturalness of it, differences of reality. Terribleness befalling them, her displeasure in taking up arms. A friend needing assistance, deciding in doing so. Confronting deities, a state of trueness revealing. Unleashing her rage, those desires flowing out. Gratefulness to her friends, those pulling her from blackness. That man leaving, a woman taking his place.

"You know, you probably should consider some help. It must really be difficult running everything on your own here." That woman folding her arms.

"It is, but at least I know that care will certainly be given. I also do fear someone abusing my research, this medicine was created for everyone." Cyra sighing, her hand to her cheek.

Experiences of old, those aiming for their own. Terribleness of her encounters, tormenting years. Hesitancy in removing her armor, doing so at last. Facing actuality, believing in herself. Lingering doubts, shakiness still in existence. Sentiments to herself, hatred still at her depths. Joyfulness of her again, loving the numerous worlds. Alchemy aiding in her creation, medicine reflecting her own abilities. A village of her family, many dying over the passing time. Cruelness of life, cherishing them. Hours going by, emptiness of the place, one of familiarity walking in. Eyes of the sea, hair of redness. Plainness of his shirt, longness of his black pants. Two before the other, groaning of him.

"I have been in this line of work for years..." He props his arms behind his head.

"I know it is difficult, but I am proud. You came a long way, try and hold out for a bit longer, okay?" her hands behind her back.

"Yeah, so how is business?" he questions.

"Same, barely anyone at this time. Wait, is it not time for your checkup?" she folds her arms, tapping her foot against the ground.

Fullness of her job, enjoying it. Endlessness of her strifes, wanting them in finishing. Troubles still residing within, capability in moving onward. Harshness of actuality, constantly growing her power. Mostly putting down her weapons, preferring in avoiding conflict. Caring for those of the village, a place of smallness. Technological advancements, simplicity of it. An everlasting bond between two, companions from times of yore. Once racing in darkness, loneliness of her. An old friend diving, continuously trying to reach her. Their life of currentness, unease from him. Facing away from her, her extending hand. Grabbing the back of his shirt, his flailing arms.

"You thought I would not remember huh." Her glaring eyes.

"A guy can hope can't he...?" whimpering of him.

Colors of the heart, differing for numerous. Purity of actuality, niceness of it. Flimsiness within, coldness birthing from horribleness. Scarring emotions, never ending despair. Events of old, images eternally branding. Living each day in agony, seeking a deep desire. Achieving it, embracing this existence of blissfulness. Childishness of her husband, that deity never changing. Fearfulness inside, his beating heart. Pulling him away, unable in evading this. Sundown coming soon enough, that young woman on top of a hill. Birds flying along, some descending on tombstones. Gentleness of the wind, memories eternally remaining. Gazing at the objects, faintly smiling.

"If you chose the cycle, then I am certain we will see each other again. If not, then I am not sure." Her soft voice.

Differences of lives, smallness of some. Niceness of individuals, wanting their smiling faces again. Accepting this, understanding it. Cherishing those experiences, believing in reuniting. A cycle once of repetitiveness, one once ruling the heavens. A deity of grandness, actions of deplorableness. Damning two, linking to another. Destruction of happiness, his path in going forward. Born one of blackness, ascending far. Stepping on the domain of the gods, shouting her soul. Years going by, that young woman capable in embracing her desire far within. Flowing breeze, history of old. Movements approaching, glancing behind. A man motioning to her side, brownness of his coat. Tallness of him, fashion a bit more. His hand on his hat, slightly tilting his head down.

"You look the same, even after all these years." He calmly speaks.

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"Who are you?" seriousness of her tone.

"Come now, you did not forget me, Cyra?" he faces her, slightness of his smile.

Life of eternity, those continuously moving onward. Death claiming numerous, few of immortality. Greatness of torment, enduring cruelness. A way of release, nightmares constantly haunting. Desperation in days of yore, seeking the sky of endlessness. Tears in an abyss of loneliness, wandering in the depths. Tides of harshness, forcing onward. Branding sentiments, settling after countless years. Meeting innumerable, one in front of her. Closeness of her gaze, brightness of a boy. Shortness of their encounter, meaningfulness of it, longness since meeting.

"Agar..." She steps back in some surprise.

"Yeah, I came to this village once years ago. You haven't aged a day, so what are you?" he folds his arms.

"Some things are better not known." She faces a gravestone.

"Heh, figures. I came to warn you, that your generosity is attracting attention. Some good, some not so much. It might be best to relocate before great conflicts start." His direction ahead, his hands in his pockets.

Sentiments over the passing time, illness in her earlier days. Loathing the battlefield, hatred for the worlds. Once loving it, falling into despair. Longness of her venture, struggling of massiveness. Sinking into the depths, racing in an abyss of loneliness. Hands of shadows pursuing her, refusing in relenting. Silence in her younger days, tears spilling in blackness. None hearing, untrusting in others. A way in proceeding, that faintest light. Reaching for it, stepping on the domain of the gods. Eternally branding her image into the worlds, fading into legend. Living a life of normalcy, friends along the way. Appreciation of this one's concern, those of kindness.

"You might be correct, even so. This village is my home, and I will not be easily leaving. I am certain you can understand this." Her hands behind her back, glancing in his direction.

"I do, please take care." He turns from her.

A place of belonging, grasping what is within. Continuously venturing, wandering in darkness. Hostility of old, never a resting. Once part of a bar, inhabitants of niceness. An establishment of warmness, those of differing shades. Her home of yore, despising it. A marriage of deplorableness, constantly enduring. One never leaving her mind, frustration still existing. Years of torment, unable in withstanding. Wanting the sky of endlessness again, those feelings breaking free. Experiences paving her way, a village of her final stop. Facing in the man's direction, witnessing him heading on his way.

Shortness of their encounter, appreciation of it. Days going by, the shining sun bathing below. Animals running across the road, birds soaring far. Inhabitants about, their eyes in the direction of many. Strangeness of this, trailing their path. That young woman once again at her clinic, tending to her patients. Some on beds, resting for a bit. Others up and about, activeness of her day. Children running around, loudness of them. Enjoying their time, a handful of them. Some fighting over the young woman, commonality of this. Her hand to her cheek, thinking on her response. An idea in mind, folding her arms.

"Please, no more fighting. You do want the patients to get better, right?" softness of her voice.

"Oh...sorry..." A boy facing her, slightly lowering his head.

"We'll stop..." A girl looking away.

Reasons in wielding a sword, events forever branding. Unrelenting of her, coldness on the outside. Softness within, shakiness of her. Untrusting in others, longness of her development. A clinic of her path, liking this. Enormousness of her tasks, fineness with it. Bonding with others, connecting lines of unlikeliness. Children of colorfulness, each of excitableness. Some of mischievousness, others of wellness. Learning over her years, providing aid to others. Giving back a bit, kindness pulling her from blackness. Memories forever branding, capability in moving forward. Opening of the door, this to her attention. Many coming in, strangeness of this. Confronting them, her hand on her waist.

"We heard that this clinic here can cure anything, as hard as that is to believe." A man holding the back of his head.

"I know this is on short notice, but our families have concerning conditions that are too costly elsewhere..." A woman looking down, sadness from her.

"As you can guess, we don't have too much, but what will it cost for treatment?" another woman uneasily questions.

Countless lives in existence, suffering of unavoidableness. Going far, seeking aid. Numerous coming before her, struggling of greatness. Concerning with affordability, hopefulness of their eyes. Understanding those sentiments, her method in giving aid. Smallness of a village, efforts of hardness. Those coming from afar, never dealing with this range. Not wishing to turn them away, space of limitation. Supply of a problem, time of essentialness. Analyzing those before her, some more sickly than others. Visualizing a path, a way in providing assistance of a possibility.

"Not to worry about the price, it will never be of inconvenience. However, space is limited here. You can find an inn on the far side, but currently I can only take a few more daily." She explains.

Unable to do more, an establishment of littleness. Weight of those requiring assistance, supply of necessity. Some relief with those words, yet unsettling emotions lingering within them. A place of acceptance, a line of a problem. Naturalness of these conditions, none other than herself. Word spreading of her miracles, those seeking it out. Countless coming to her aid, not wishing in relying on her abilities. Problematic of it, living her life in the realm of the humans. Never ending conflict, sights of horribleness. Blackness around every corner, yet hope brightly burning.

A boy around his teenage years collapsing, alarming of it. His mother at his side, shaking him. Screaming out to him, that devil of hastiness. Reaching into her coat, taking out a container. Popping it open, racing to the teenager. Kneeling to him, turning him over, opening his mouth. His breathing of heaviness, putting the pill into his mouth. Urging him in swallowing, those observing this, worrying of them. Consuming it, stillness of him. Waiting for a response, tears in the mother's eyes. Slightness of his reaction, vision slowly opening. Relief of the situation, perfection of her medicine. Rising to their feet, gratefulness of the mother.

"I am in short supply currently, please try and hold out." She turns to the many people.

Difficulty in creating this, differences in numerous. Essentialness of results, points in acting upon. Reactions of deadliness, a pill capable of adapting to anyone. Those witnessing this, a miracle before their eyes. That teenager easily moving around, his mother settling him down. Speaking with the young woman, wondering of anything else. Importance in evaluating her son, assuring her in a price of affordability. Shortly heading to her desk, residing behind it. Innumerable lining up, entering them into her database. A scheduling on hand, those most in need of priority. A room crowding with countless, largeness of the challenge. Days going by, more coming in. Finding herself amongst many, an uproar from some. Slowness of their turn, worrying for their own. Supplies of limitation, one dealing with numerous.

"Come on! We have been on wait for a long time!" one man yelling.

"Any longer and my daughter could die!" a woman shouting.

"I understand your concerns, but please, I am working as fast as I can." Cyra trying to settle them.

A solution in place, medicine rivaling her own abilities. Difficulty in producing, never ending conflict. Riskiness in using her power, her venture over the years. Possibility in conflict of grandness, wishing in avoiding it. Blending in with those below, hearts of selfishness. Expectance of it, fineness with it. Stressfulness of their dilemma, understanding this. Efforts of hardness, those of loudness. That opening door, her attention in the direction. Valor making his way through, a man standing before Cyra. Stating his displeasure, anger from him. That deity's hand on his shoulder, vision meeting with one another.

"I suggest you step away." Sharply glaring.

Moving back, fearfulness of the god. A room filling with voices, each wanting their turn, a line in waiting. Time of shortness, littleness of supplies. Demand of highness, a problem in dealing with. Never enough of it, commonality of this. Life of fragility, frustrations of greatness. Awareness on her struggles, coming to her aid. Standing in front of his wife, facing the crowd, firmness of his clap. Piercing sound, those of quietness. Attention in his direction, that ground beneath his feet freezing. Chilling of the room, hastiness of their hearts. Strictness of his gaze, folding his arms.

"She is just one person, there is only so much that she can care for in a day. You will wait, or leave." He makes clear.

Timidness of old, reliableness of him. Mistakes of the past, never repeating them. Days of yore, his companion of brightness. Venturing throughout the worlds, loving them. Passing time, actuality steadily setting in. Wanting in maintaining their dream, a night of horribleness. Unable in acting, both separating. Years going by, her deep agony. Torturous experiences, no longer willing in remaining in silence. Breaking free, stepping on the domain of the gods. Eternally engraving her image into the realms, grasping what is within. Eventually speaking those words, a life of betterment. Defending her, closeness of two. Some leaving in anger, others complying. Clearing of the room, those companions before the other.

"Thank you, Val..." Slightly looking down, moving aside her hair.

"I did what I could, you okay?" he folds his arms.

"Yes, I am well. I just wish I could do more." Her vision meeting with his own.