voiceoftheflame
02-06-2016, 03:31 PM
The threads name-sake.
Regular bluish grey steam slowly stirred from the mug of green tea. The steam rose in an elegant spiral as a distancing visage for the man inattentively attending the cup. His focus was not on his regular drink nor was it on the forgotten sandwich the contents of which had partially leaked onto a faded colorless plate. Instead his brain was ripe with images of the woman that had just walked in, past his table, and ordered some coffee from a tired looking waitress. Everyday the woman would do this walking past him as he sat eating his lunch, something curious about her had taken his entire concentration every single time. It was not her appearance, whilst the woman was doubtlessly pretty that had little barring on the tea drinker. Nor was it her outfit which was always a pair of dark jeans with a grey over coat concealing both her shirt and her upper figure. The man had spend a good few weeks at the sideline trying to uncover what it was about her; that in this café of conversation and companions took his very solitary interest.
Fortunately for the man he had plenty of time to make his casual observations as he sat alone here every single day that she she made her way past the table he was always sat at and ordered the same drink. He wanted to approach her and talk since the first time he had realised why it was she got his attention without fail. 'Hm like this maybe. ”Hi, you are always alone in here so as a perfect stranger who has been observing you for the past month, let's chat!”Yeah not sure that one is gonna work out to well for you mate'y.' Chimed the sensible part of his mind which he kept around to stop him making a complete fool of himself. So much like he did every he settled back into the blanket of soft sweet steam that rose out of his cup and descended into thoughts of talking with the truly fascinating woman he knew nothing about.
'If she could just sit in that empty chair opposite and set her coffee down here' mused the dreamer part of his brain that the monotony of ageing had not yet stomped out of existence even if it had penned in somewhat since his childhood.
'It would be nice to have someone to talk to bar you mate'y but it ain't gonna happen, look at her. She could sit wherever she may chose in this damn place and no one would argue.' The voice of much detested reason argued.
'Well why not here then? It isn't like we are even doing anything other than sit here, she wouldn't be intruding and would be more than welcome.' Optimism fought against reason as it was often satisfied to do. The man really hoped that Optimism could be right in it's boundless wonders but sided somewhat to reason for a summary of the likely eventuality of the sobriety of his activities regarding the woman.
'Lets see, she doesn't know us and could dodge the awkward perceived faux pas of an intrusion on what we are showing to be a contented relaxing lunch time.' Reason was convicted in the statement seeing the situation as it perceived was more correct and realistic than the other voices outlook.
'What if the world and more importantly she could see that we aren't content just sat here alone, it isn't a great leap is it?' Always true to itself Optimism kept his corner, never quite able to match reason in a debate but completely unrelenting in its hopefulness.
'Well the world cannot see can it, we sit here phased out sipping tea and relaxing. No one can see us bicker mate'y. What suggests the world can see how we are?' Infinitely experienced and powerful, the voice of pessimistic, reason and logic kept sneering dominance over the man's actions extending it's self inflicted imprisonment behind a fake façade of contentedness. It was the nature of fatalism and realism which this voice imparted in equal portions that it may only ever seem complete and never actually taste satisfaction due to its own intrinsic limitations.
'A world of empathetic hearts could tell we need more than this. Surely not every one here or elsewhere cannot be so cold and dispassionate that they aren't able to see.' Optimism pulled on its idealistic hopes in countenance to the time reinforced probabilities of these events.
'We aren't in a world full of empathy mate'y, only I can hear you in here. These people aren't cold nor are they as maliciously non concerned as your embittered stance colours them, they are just understandably careless. Nothing suggests we have any kind of internal strife and they doubtless have their own set of voices to address.' The voice was not dismissive or volatile it was simply infused with a natural expected dose of misanthropy to those than had not proved to transcend such expectations.
'She is, I bet she is one rare empathetic heart.' Optimism in the face of misanthropy, pessimism and even logical reason had not faltered or lost any of it's shine. A rare feature of this Voice of Hope, is that it was seemingly impossible to extinguish as just as it was on the verge of complete loss and destruction. Life would throw it a rope and pull it back into relevance.
Pessimism was starting to grow tired of the boundless hope of the other voice and its inability to accept that the world did not work the way it should. It was readying itself for something cutting to slice the confidence of the hopeful chiming voice down and assume control for self preservation reasons however just as it was preparing to pipe up both voices where silenced by a soft feminine voice cutting in. “Don't mind if I join you do you? It just seems we both end up sitting alone here so why not sit together.” The man snapped from his reprieve and tried to silence both voices giving a friendly greeting as affirmation of his acceptance of the woman's offer of companionship. He tried to silence both voices but Optimism's joyous revealing in being right about this exceptional woman was to strong and true to quash.
Regular bluish grey steam slowly stirred from the mug of green tea. The steam rose in an elegant spiral as a distancing visage for the man inattentively attending the cup. His focus was not on his regular drink nor was it on the forgotten sandwich the contents of which had partially leaked onto a faded colorless plate. Instead his brain was ripe with images of the woman that had just walked in, past his table, and ordered some coffee from a tired looking waitress. Everyday the woman would do this walking past him as he sat eating his lunch, something curious about her had taken his entire concentration every single time. It was not her appearance, whilst the woman was doubtlessly pretty that had little barring on the tea drinker. Nor was it her outfit which was always a pair of dark jeans with a grey over coat concealing both her shirt and her upper figure. The man had spend a good few weeks at the sideline trying to uncover what it was about her; that in this café of conversation and companions took his very solitary interest.
Fortunately for the man he had plenty of time to make his casual observations as he sat alone here every single day that she she made her way past the table he was always sat at and ordered the same drink. He wanted to approach her and talk since the first time he had realised why it was she got his attention without fail. 'Hm like this maybe. ”Hi, you are always alone in here so as a perfect stranger who has been observing you for the past month, let's chat!”Yeah not sure that one is gonna work out to well for you mate'y.' Chimed the sensible part of his mind which he kept around to stop him making a complete fool of himself. So much like he did every he settled back into the blanket of soft sweet steam that rose out of his cup and descended into thoughts of talking with the truly fascinating woman he knew nothing about.
'If she could just sit in that empty chair opposite and set her coffee down here' mused the dreamer part of his brain that the monotony of ageing had not yet stomped out of existence even if it had penned in somewhat since his childhood.
'It would be nice to have someone to talk to bar you mate'y but it ain't gonna happen, look at her. She could sit wherever she may chose in this damn place and no one would argue.' The voice of much detested reason argued.
'Well why not here then? It isn't like we are even doing anything other than sit here, she wouldn't be intruding and would be more than welcome.' Optimism fought against reason as it was often satisfied to do. The man really hoped that Optimism could be right in it's boundless wonders but sided somewhat to reason for a summary of the likely eventuality of the sobriety of his activities regarding the woman.
'Lets see, she doesn't know us and could dodge the awkward perceived faux pas of an intrusion on what we are showing to be a contented relaxing lunch time.' Reason was convicted in the statement seeing the situation as it perceived was more correct and realistic than the other voices outlook.
'What if the world and more importantly she could see that we aren't content just sat here alone, it isn't a great leap is it?' Always true to itself Optimism kept his corner, never quite able to match reason in a debate but completely unrelenting in its hopefulness.
'Well the world cannot see can it, we sit here phased out sipping tea and relaxing. No one can see us bicker mate'y. What suggests the world can see how we are?' Infinitely experienced and powerful, the voice of pessimistic, reason and logic kept sneering dominance over the man's actions extending it's self inflicted imprisonment behind a fake façade of contentedness. It was the nature of fatalism and realism which this voice imparted in equal portions that it may only ever seem complete and never actually taste satisfaction due to its own intrinsic limitations.
'A world of empathetic hearts could tell we need more than this. Surely not every one here or elsewhere cannot be so cold and dispassionate that they aren't able to see.' Optimism pulled on its idealistic hopes in countenance to the time reinforced probabilities of these events.
'We aren't in a world full of empathy mate'y, only I can hear you in here. These people aren't cold nor are they as maliciously non concerned as your embittered stance colours them, they are just understandably careless. Nothing suggests we have any kind of internal strife and they doubtless have their own set of voices to address.' The voice was not dismissive or volatile it was simply infused with a natural expected dose of misanthropy to those than had not proved to transcend such expectations.
'She is, I bet she is one rare empathetic heart.' Optimism in the face of misanthropy, pessimism and even logical reason had not faltered or lost any of it's shine. A rare feature of this Voice of Hope, is that it was seemingly impossible to extinguish as just as it was on the verge of complete loss and destruction. Life would throw it a rope and pull it back into relevance.
Pessimism was starting to grow tired of the boundless hope of the other voice and its inability to accept that the world did not work the way it should. It was readying itself for something cutting to slice the confidence of the hopeful chiming voice down and assume control for self preservation reasons however just as it was preparing to pipe up both voices where silenced by a soft feminine voice cutting in. “Don't mind if I join you do you? It just seems we both end up sitting alone here so why not sit together.” The man snapped from his reprieve and tried to silence both voices giving a friendly greeting as affirmation of his acceptance of the woman's offer of companionship. He tried to silence both voices but Optimism's joyous revealing in being right about this exceptional woman was to strong and true to quash.