Rook stared at the blank blog field, leaning back in her chair. She was supposed to be setting up stories for the next several weeks, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Typing seemed so pointless.
A lot of things seemed pointless in the maelstrom of time.
Johan was always reminding her not to stress, to do what made her happy. Telling stories is what made her happy, but seemed trivial when time kept slipping out of her hands.
She was half-dragon in a human body, so time never made the most sense to her to begin with. But as the shift approached, she felt it rush by even faster, and it made her question her goals. Did being a storyteller at the end of an age make that big of a difference? Was it really that important?
Her followers were entertained, yes. She was always perceived as fiction, even when she not-so-subtly hinted at the truths of the universe. It made her smile to have people she'd never met comment on her words. All storytellers lived for recognition.
The cursor flashed accusingly, and Rook narrowed her eyes at it. What should she even write about? Maybe something else post-apocalyptic? She could go with magic, or revelations. Getting back to her vampire couple could always be good.
None of it was appealing. None of it felt right. The dragon part of her soul wanted to scream out her frustration, wanted to call to the friends she knew were in the world and looking for her. All things would be better if she could just have her family all in one place. She and Johan could only do so much by themselves. Even if their love could tear down walls, there were so many barriers between now and the end of the year.
Rook sighed when Mackey jumped into her lap. He was good at calming her down, at making the world seem a little brighter. He purred and purred, and she scratched beneath his chin.
Smirking, she reached for the keyboard with one hand. "I think I'll just write more about you, my little love." Still unsettled, but with a goal in hand, Rook began typing.