So look at your life,, who do you want to be before you die?

[Cobus J. Hunter]

{ OOC: Table's are difficult to dooo.
Oh, this thread's open for everyone of course.~ }


His head was throbbing with an awful pain while there he sat on his rump, on the green grass. He was in a - to him - unknown forest and the great confusion and headache he felt wasn't a very good combination. Cobus, as he was called although it wasn't his real name, also felt tired which made everything even more excruciating.
He was old. He'd beg to differ on that note even though he knew it was very true, and that he would lose in the end no matter how much he would try to deny the fact that he was not young and had not been in an awfully long time, either. Sometimes he wondered if he'd ever been young at all. It was so hard to tell these days since so many things was blurred for him... he knew that he had a lot more memories than the ones he could recall. In other words there were many memories that he had temporarily (God forbid if it was permanent) forgotten and could not currently recall.
Over time they'd started to float away, they had grown dimmer and at last they had disappeared completely. But everyone has been a kid, has they not? People usually forget a lot of from their younger days when they grow up, but to forget nearly everything that happened before the age of twenty-five... that could not be normal.

Cobus let out a disgruntled snort, directed at himself. His arrival to this world had been extremely sudden and in his impact with the ground he'd damaged his left hand - which, sadly, was his main hand. A rock had cut up a wound in his coarse hand, and it was bleeding.
"Hrm... well, it looks a lot worse than it is. I hope."
While travelling alone he'd gotten the habit of talking to himself, which he mostly did because he was afraid that he would lose the ability to speak if he did not do so. He seldom met people on his journeys and if he did he seldom spoke with them. No, not anymore, at least.
Thankfully, there was a river nearby and so he moved towards it, walking on his knees. He dipped his left hand into the clear water and cleaned it carefully and then turned around. His leather briefcase was there, lying near a bush. Cobus reached for it and from it he pulled out a white bandanna and wrapped it around his injured hand.
"That will have to do." he mumbled.

He was probably a bit of an odd ball. His long, black coat made him, in some people's eyes, seem a tad mysterious - his clothes overall was fancy, although worn out, but one could easily imagine how fine those threads had looked when they were all brand new. His leather briefcase was probably something one wouldn't expect a man like him to carry around, but it looked very shabby and it, too, was quite old.
If one were to take a good look at this man they would be able to see a glimpse of the man he'd been - and at the same time the man that he'd never been.
Cobus flinched and his eyes' pupils shrunk, but his eyes were still half closed... and the lower eyelids were red. A colour they'd had forever it seemed. He took a deep breath and tried to forget the pain before reaching down into his briefcase again in order to get his hat.
It was a wide-brimmed, brown hat that he carefully put on his head. He would try to get some rest before trying to explore his new surroundings - perhaps it was foolish of him to let his guard down in an unknown place, but he did not care much, not anymore.

[Ernest Jacques]

'I know what I want And I say what I want And no one can take it away (OOC: Sorry I took so long to reply. This post is sorta bleh anyway, but they should get better.) I know what I want And I say what I want And no one can take it away' Ernest hardly noticed his surroundings. From place to place, town to town, they varied, they changed, they contorted, and dissolved into different areas. Sometimes it was a valley, other times it was a ghost town, but more and more increasingly, it was becoming a dead silence, filled only with foliage, and no living being which Ernest could speak to. Not that he wanted to; he found the more he spoke to others, the less his music was heard, and so the young man had continued on, playing his flute. He only moved to keep the music from his flute flowing, so that no living creature within this forest went on in this forest without hearing it. Ernest did not pay very much attention to his surroundings when he played his flute and walked along like this. It was a slow pace, and more often then not by the end of the day, he would he exhausted, having spent all his energy and breath on simply playing for hours at a time. This may sound odd, but Ernest had more reason wrapped in his music then just the joy of playing it, (which he had a lot of). Every note he played, any song he wrote, told a story. His own secret code, which he had taken the time to spell out, sound out, and figure out so that every note sounded in tune with all the others, and that they flowed so nicely that one could not suspect such great music. Usually, these songs described the people he met, but lately he had no people to describe, and so was forced to write the song according to the forest, and simply-the forest. The sheets of music, which he had tucked away under his coat, along with various other sheets of paper, and writing implements. These were in inner-pockets of his coat, and on the outer pockets he would set the flute for the night, after taking its apart, and setting it ever so gently inside. Ernest seemed very much at home in forest as he walked about, playing this music, but indeed he was very lost. Not that one would notice, however. He was dressed in all brown, and he seemed to be born from a tree stump, simply because he was on the short side, and a little hunched over. His pale green eyes matched the leaves of some of the trees, and so he seemed to be grown straight out of the forest, however nothing could be so far from the truth. Ernest carried on, until a sound disrupted his song. "Hrm... well, it looks a lot worse than it is. I hope." And at this, the music stopped, and he did not hear the rest of Cobus's words, yet he ventured toward the sound, and realized he was very close to a river which he had never set eyes on before. With the forest in such a dead silence, Ernest could not complain for being disrupted in his music (which he would have been in all other circumstances) but by wandering a large forest, for days at a time, you seem to grow to savor any moment that you can get talking, seeing, or even hearing another human being. And, luckily for Ernest he had at least the latter two. So, Ernest appeared rather suddenly, on the other side of the river, and looked over to see a rather old man, who seemed very out of place for this forest, sitting there. 'And odd fellow to be in these parts, I wonder how he came to be here? Or is he so lost in his thoughts that he knows nothing on how he got here, or why?' Ernest looked at the river, as it was not a very wide river, yet he dared not to swim over it, and so, he decided, to call out to the man. "Sir!" Ernest shouted, rather quickly, and rather sharply, "what brings you here?" his words had a naturally sharp tone, as if he were demanding something. Carefully, Ernest set his flute inside the pocket of his coat, and began to mentally discuss in his mind what this man was like, and that finally a subject of one of his songs, would not be about the forest.

[Cobus J. Hunter]

{ OOC: No worries. I probably wouldn't have had the time to reply earlier anyway, but now it's summer vacation for me so yay!
I can't say I'm too happy about this post, either, but yeah it'll get better. XD}

"Sir! What brings you here?"

He'd just begun to relax but, alas, a sharp voice coming from somewhere to his right disrupted him. It sounded like just a kid - or at least a very young man - and he found no reason to fear this person, perhaps foolishly of him because he knew better, but he remained calm nevertheless. He wouldn't have anything to fear from a kid, he didn't have anything to fear from anyone, now why would he have? In the distant past, yes, but he was not a child anymore.
He turned his head towards the boy standing on the other side of the river and justified his hat slightly, so that he would see better. The brim of the worn out hat shaded his eyes slightly, but they were still somewhat visible thanks to some sunlight being reflected in them. His gaze was rather piercing - despite his eyelids being half-closed - much thanks to his very light-blue eyes.

"Nothing, I'm afraid. I travel a lot, but..." he talked with a British accent and his voice was just a little coarse, and he spoke mayhaps better than one would expect from someone like him, who didn't exactly look dashing. He sounded very secure whenever he spoke and he rarely hesitated because of nervousity, "I just arrived here... and I haven't the slightest idea how that happened."
He thought the way Ernest had started a conversation on was rather unusual. He had sounded a bit demanding while shouting out his question but perhaps it hadn't been his intention. The boy did seem faintly... well, excited about something but he did not know what. He was a small fellow, a little hunched over Cobus noticed, but he was not a little child. He was, however, probably the youngest person he'd seen in a very long time. He'd been travelling much and on his travels he'd mostly met people that were over 25 years old, at least.
"Do you know where I am?" he asked, knowing that the question sounded silly, so he smiled a crooked smile. Cobus didn't think that he was in his own world anymore because something felt different here. It was difficult to describe but it was a feeling he had, and he knew it couldn't be a false one. It didn't have to be a bad thing but he wanted to know if his suspicions were true.
His legs felt tired and because of that he didn't try to stand up, instead he stretched his stiff body and tried to sit straighter, "Also, who are you?"
He looked at the boy and wondered if he would attempt to cross the river somehow. Cobus´ headache reappeared and so he moved his left hand instinctively to his forehead, trying to dull the pain but it didn't really help and now his hand stung because he'd moved it. He closed his eyes and let his right hand cover his forehead instead.

[Ernest Jacques]

'I know what I want And I say what I want And no one can take it away (OOC:) I know what I want And I say what I want And no one can take it away' "Nothing, I'm afraid. I travel a lot, but...I just arrived here... and I haven't the slightest idea how that happened." Ernest found this to be very odd. Not often did you here someone describe that they not only did not know how they arrived here, but described it as 'just arrive red', as if it was normal, unexplainable occurrence. Perhaps the man was not in the right mind? Ernest wondered this, but decided that he may have meant it as simply wandering into the forest, like he had, without really noticing he had. So in the end, Ernest decided, this man was just as sane as he was. And that was easy to understand. Ernest also realized that this man had very stunning blue eyes, they were so much so that Ernest almost did not notice it. He found that odd to, but then again everything about this forest was odd. This man probably was simply lost, and would find his way out, just like Ernest would....eventually. Ernest began to write the first few notes of his song in his head, describing this man, with the British accent, stunning blue eyes, and black clothes. It seemed rather out of place, rather mysterious. However, Ernest was not afraid, what did he have to fear? He doubted the old man could do much, though knew that looks could be very deceiving, so, Ernest directed his attention to trying to figure out how to cross the river. His eyes went down to it, and saw that it did not have a very strong current, but it did have a current. It was to wide for him to jump of step over, and Ernest would rather not attempt to swim. 'What about a bridge?' Ernest thought, suddenly. He wasn't sure how to get a bridge, as he doubted a 'modern' bridge to just appear down or upstream. What Ernest meant would be a log, a fallen tree, anything that would cross over the river. When Ernest began to think of ways to make this happen, his thoughts were disturbed, and her jerked when he heard the sound. "Do you know where I am? Also, who are you?" 'Will these questions never cease?' Ernest thoughts were hence disturbed, and he glanced up at the man before replying to his first question. "I wandered in here, and have been in here for some time. I haven't seen a living soul here in such a long time, I'd say you were the first." Ernest said this quickly, trying to go back to his thoughts, but were disturbed by he having to answer the second question. "I am Ernest Jacques, a musical genius, at your service." Ernest then began to ignore the old man, and acting like he had said nothing, blurted out, "is there any way to cross the river?" Ernest said this quickly, wanting to get away from the silence of the trees. He enjoyed silence very much, but he also knew that living in such silence may cause him to loose his hearing, or even any social skills he had-which were very little. Ernest needed to find a way out of the forest, and into any populated town. Nothing was better then seeing just how many people adored his music, and Ernest took much pride in this, to him, even the deaf enjoyed his tunes. Also, such music playing was his only 'real' income. He made about midway, not poor, but not rich. His talent was easily recognized, but not his face or name. Ernest did not really 'need' much money, as his parents had a wealthy amount of it. They had no title or reason to this, they simply were wealthy, and this wealth would one day be passed down to Ernest, however that day was very far away.

[Cobus J. Hunter]

"I wandered in here, and have been in here for some time. I haven't seen a living soul here in such a long time, I'd say you were the first. I am Ernest Jacques, a musical genius, at your service."

Cobus couldn't help but smile feebly at these words. The boy had spoken in a way that had made him sound somewhat haughty, though maybe he had good reasons to be pompous - the old geezer had never heard of Ernest before, and he'd obviously never heard him play but if he were a genius as he'd stated, he would in Cobus´ opinion have the rights to act like he did... for a while, at least.
He wouldn't be able to blame Ernest for believing him to be a curious man. He did indeed not know how he'd gotten to this forest. He'd remembered that he had started falling and that all was black. It was almost as if he'd begun to fall asleep and was soon to enter a dream, and therefore another world and he'd been engulfed in darkness. Then the headache and hurting hand had made themselves acknowledged. Cobus were however not unfamiliar with travelling between different worlds, he'd done it before. This time it seemed to be a bit different though, as well as involuntary. He debated if he should mention it to Ernest or not, as he might know something about it all. Well, it would probably come up sooner or later and to bring it up right now would be unnecessary.

"I'm Cobus J. Hunter."

He decided to keep it simple, not explaining the J. or telling him his real name, since Cobus were not his "real" name but a nickname derived from his original first name. But it had, more or less, eventually replaced his former, real name as time had passed by, so it didn't really matter. He'd all ready said that he was a traveller and that would have to do it. He had had a profession but, like so much else it seemed, it was many years ago.
Cobus weren't much of a chatterbox himself and he had noticed if just faintly (he'd always been rather good at reading people, suspecting what or how they felt, sometimes he barely realised it) that Ernest didn't seem to be one, either. He didn't seem to be too fond of his questions at least. It was as if he'd been deep in thought and Cobus noticed how he seemed to be searching for something.

"Is there any way to cross the river?"

Cobus started to inspect the river and pointed to a place further down it. The place he were pointing towards had some smooth rocks sticking up from the water, forming a kind of "path", if one would like to call it that.

"Well, maybe you can cross it from there. It might be too slippery though," he got up to his feet, the tiredness in his legs temporarily weakened and the pain in his head and hand peculiarly distant - they were distant just because he decided to do his best to ignore them. He felt the headache... sharp but dull at the same time as if it was shrouded in a thin mist which made it just partially invisible. His hand were different, it didn't hurt as much as it felt plainly uncomfortable with its warm, thick throbbing.
He took his hat off of his head and threw it on his suitcase-like bag and walked towards the river. He felt awkwardly stiff, again, but thankfully it disappeared almost instantly. He sat down on his knees and splashed some water on his face as well as his hair which transformed into a darker hair colour, almost black at some places which were very different from his dirty-blonde hair. He seemed younger now when his face was cleaner, if just a little younger, and it was now easier to see that his hair was parted to the right. Cobus reached up to his hair and tried to make it look better, like it had looked like a long time ago. He suddenly got stuck, for just a half second if not even less, when he was gazing into the water and into his own visage. He couldn't take his eyes off of that face that were his own, but it was so very different.
He shook it off by shaking his head and he stood up continuing to look for a place where one would be able to cross the river, then he sighed when he couldn't find a better one in his field of vision. He bit his lip from the inside thinking about the river. Its blue colour was rather different compared to the colour of his eyes, but they were like two sides of the same coin. No, not the river itself but the face in it and his own face. Cobus frowned, feeling confused.

"I can help you cross it if you'd like, so you won't fall, or we could look for a better place for you..." he spoke while his eyes had a bit of a distant look about them, and that was nothing odd because he was thinking of something else.
They soon regained their usual sharpness.

[Ernest Jacques]

'I know what I want And I say what I want And no one can take it away (OOC:) I know what I want And I say what I want And no one can take it away' "I'm Cobus J. Hunter." It was odd for Ernest to hear someone give their middle initial. The name Cobus seemed odd as well, but Ernest knew that his name was just about as odd-he himself had not heard the name in a modern person in a long time. His last name was just as odd, but last names could be odd or common, so Ernest accepted the last name of 'Hunter'. Overall, he had no right to question the name, and thought that the fight about that was not worth it. Ernest's mind drifted back to the subject of crossing the river. There were hardly any fallen trees in this forest, and those that were seemed to be so old and worn, that they'd crumble to dust at the first touch, making not just walking on them impossible, but also moving them. Ernest then noticed that Cobus was now giving him an answer, and looked in the direction he pointed. "Well, maybe you can cross it from there. It might be too slippery though," Ernest seemed to think for a moment, he doubted if he had enough balance to cross the rocks easily. However, if they were not to slippery, it would be somewhat easy for him to cross-but if they were, there would be no way of him making it. He was in no way an athlete, and even though he was closer to the ground, it was just as easy for him to loose balance and fall as it would for anyone else to. Ernest then watched Cobus stand-and he seemed rather in pain, which caught Ernest's interest-and then dip his hand into the river. And it seemed, that the man wiped away a year or so off of his face, possibly more than that, but Cobus did seem younger. Ernest found that odd as well, had there been so much dirt on this odd man that wiping it off wiped away his age? Ernest was sure to keep these facts inside him for later jotting down the song. He realized that Cobus was also starring in the water at his reflection, perhaps he was thinking? Ernest had no right to disturb him in that, just as he would not wish to be disturbed. 'Maybe I can figure out another way to cross on my own, then.' However, there was no other way to cross. It was try the rocks and hope you didn't slip to your doom, or stay on this side of the river. Ernest had never been in a forest like this, it was so deserted, yet it seemed like a place that should be thriving, or well known. "I can help you cross it if you'd like, so you won't fall, or we could look for a better place for you..." His voice trailed off, and so, Ernest now suspected he was indeed, someone who fell in and out of thoughts fairly easily, which was fine-Ernest had done the same at times. "It seems useless to try to find another way. This forest is so empty, and so silent, it seems like the rocks would be the only hope of crossing the river." Ernest waited patiently for Cobus's reply, as he began to walk toward the part of the river where the rocks were. At first, he feared they would be to wet to cross, but realized a few were moist, some soaked, and some dry. The first and last one were virtually dry, and the second and third ones were moist on both sides, while the others were soaked. 'Well...maybe its not as hard as it seems.'

[Cobus J. Hunter]

{{OOC: Sorry this took such a long time, augh.}}

Cobus was odd, probably in more than one way. At least he were different from most adults around his age. When people grow up they usually forget the most of their childhood, especially how it felt to be a child, which is rather troublesome to forget. It causes unnecessary disputes between youth and oldsters.
There are children that, for many different reasons, grow up too fast and that's usually because they're forced to. In Cobus´ case there were several different things in his childhood that had made him leave all the typical, boyish thoughts behind him and he started to focus on things that he shouldn't have begun to focus on until he'd grown at least a few years older.

Cobus were by no means a childish man who told jokes whenever he had the chance or behaved immature, indeed not, but much like one were sometimes able to, for just a moment, notice that he was a bit younger than he seemed, one were also able to "feel" the child in him. Sometimes you could feel it quite clear, sometimes not.
He could be a pretty cynical creature at times, but not much more than anyone else his age. Most people would describe him as a compassionate person, but some also thought of him as cold since he was fond of logic - and he could be dreadfully objective. He'd offended people without meaning to and those people often thought of him as "mean" just because he said the truth, didn't sugar-coat it or let his judgement get clouded just because someone were his best friend.

He walked along the river's shore towards the stones and inspected them and saw what Ernest had seen; some were dry, some were soaked and others moist. This probably wouldn't be difficult for Cobus to cross, he would most likely be able to hold his balance. This would have been more difficult when he'd been, what, 10 years younger? The life as a traveller had made him get into better shape in many different ways - not that he'd been unhealthy, heck, that'd been weird considering the profession he'd had, but back then his exercises had more or less "only" consisted of walks.
By almost constantly travelling he'd grown stronger, although he were not exactly of the muscular kind. He was slightly above average when it came to that.

"It seems useless to try to find another way. This forest is so empty, and so silent, it seems like the rocks would be the only hope of crossing the river."

Cobus nodded and noticed that Ernest had commented the forest's silence, and emptiness. There were nothing peculiar about that because he did, if not see, at least hear that Ernest was right. There were no singing birds or insects to be heard, just the water that seemingly endlessly moved in the same direction as it had probably been moving towards in several thousands years, probably much more than that.
But Cobus had thought it was funny of Ernest to suddenly mention those things when they were searching for ways to cross the river. He didn't think more about that though, instead he wondered if it would be a better idea if he were to go to the other side instead of Ernest coming over to him.

"Do you think you can make it? Maybe I should cross instead," he turned his head in order to glance over his shoulder; behind him all he could see was trees. Everywhere, just as all he could see on the other side was trees. Trees all around them. Then he realised that Ernest might become upset over what he'd proposed, but Cobus had simply said those things because he wondered what would be the best - from a practical point of view, of course. But... one could question his so called "practical" way of thinking when he'd just arrived at this place in such an unusual way. He did not keep in mind that he himself might still be a bit unsteady on his legs when it came to crossing a river with the help of a few rocks.

[Ernest Jacques]

'I know what I want And I say what I want And no one can take it away (OOC: Its fine. Short post, ahoy!) I know what I want And I say what I want And no one can take it away' "Do you think you can make it? Maybe I should cross instead," Ernest has not thought of that-it seemed somewhat easier, at least from Ernest's point of view. He would have jumped at the chance not to cross the river; in fact it seemed like the best choice for him. Ernest realized that attempting to cross may be fatal for Cobus as well, but Ernest decided out of the two of them-Cobus had the best chance of crossing the river. "I believe it would be best if you did," Ernest said rather easily, not at all insulted. Some things insulted him, but not all. Ernest moved back from the rocks, wondering what the chances would be of Cobus slipping-and if he did slip, was there anyway Ernest could aide him? Ernest doubted it. If he slipped; and if he fell the forest would simply become the silent tomb that it was before Ernest met Cobus. Not really paying attention, Ernest began to think about the song in his head; he would need to write it down soon. One could only remember so much from their mind, and eventually it would fade. Sighing, Ernest began to dig around in his coat to find the paper which was for the most part sheet music after sheet music of notes. Falling into his own world, Ernest dug through his pockets again, until he found the pencil which would work for writing the song. Soon finding the writing implement, Ernest began to jot down the notes as they appeared in his head. Writing them as if they had been his first language, only pausing so erase a stray mark or when in the middle of a thought, completely tuning out the sound of the river, and almost forgetting about Cobus altogether; which was very ironic, as that was what the song referred too. Ernest jotted down the notes quickly, he had about three lines before he set the pencil and paper down on the ground, coming out of his trance, and back to reality. The song simply told Ernest's observations on Cobus, including his name-but there was not a way to tell that this was what the song was about. Ernest had once, long ago written down the key to his music. What note equaled what letter, or what combination of letters-but that key was since forgotten, destroyed, or otherwise not existing, leaving the only key to the song's code in Ernest's mind.

[Cobus J. Hunter]

{{OOC: Hah, this is also short. :< And bad. *has poor imagination at the moment*}}

"I believe it would be best if you did."

Cobus nodded, more to himself than anyone else, and so he turned around to retrieve his bag and his hat, which he put back on his head. He put the bag’s strap over his left shoulder making the bag rest upon his right hip.
He walked back to the rocks and looked down on them; they had not changed, obviously. Then he looked up and saw that Ernest had now a piece of paper in his hand and that he was writing something on it. Cobus guessed that it had to be something related to music after the statement Ernest had made earlier, definitely. He scratched his head before tightening the bag’s strap slightly, making sure that it wouldn’t move too much.

Cobus put his left foot onto the first, dry stone – the two that came next was quite soaked but he decided to put his right foot onto the next one, holding his balance with the help of his arms, and then he skipped the next wet stone and instead put his left foot down on one of the moist ones. His legs were long which made this possible, although taking such long steps were straining. There were one moist and one dry left – the stones were not incredibly big, so he took a chance and decided to walk onto the next stone. He felt how he almost lost his balance but he managed to retain soon it enough.
“That went well,” he though while looking back over his shoulder and he was glad that he had remained calm while crossing the river. Now he felt a little nauseous though. It was odd how he usually felt ill or frightened after things like this but not during these “events”.

He ignored the river and instead turned towards Ernest. He had all ready introduced himself but Cobus decided to do what they always did when they met someone - especially if it was for the very first time - from where he was from. He hit his chest on the left side, right on his heart, with a clenched fist (not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make some sound) and bowed. The bow was not very deep, but he kept that stance for a few seconds before he raised himself.
He didn’t know if this was how Ernest, or anyone that Ernest knew, greeted others. It was probably foreign to him but Cobus did this barely without thinking since this was, to him, a common way of greeting others.

Cobus glanced at the sheet of paper and noticed the notes on it, smirking a little, “Writing a song, are you? Be sure to let me hear it later,” he said, having no idea that the song was about him. He wondered if Ernest had any instrument with him… he thought it were very likely. Cobus did not often listen to music, but he did enjoy it now and then. He sat down on the ground and sighed lightly, "I hope this forest isn't endless or something. Haha... would be interesting if it were, though."

[Ernest Jacques]

'I know what I want And I say what I want And no one can take it away (OOC: Ah, nice long 500+ word post. ) I know what I want And I say what I want And no one can take it away' “Writing a song, are you? Be sure to let me hear it later,” Ernest at first thought about not replying to the comment. The song itself would continue until Ernest could think of nothing else to write about Cobus, but the song as it was could easily be well all by itself. 'Why shouldn't I play the song for him? After all-the song is about him.' Ernest saw no reason not to, it was simply his quiet nature that made him think differently. Ernest decided it would be alright to play the song for Cobus, and so Ernest set the paper with the song on it against his foot, so that it was elevated. Ernest then reached into his pocket, and pulled out the three separate parts of the flute. Separate, these pieces did nothing, they looked as if they were only shards of the instrument that Ernest used. However, once he quickly joined together two of the three parts, it seemed more complete. More like it deserved to be together. As if the pieces were all a part of some love story, and in the end they all ended up together. If that sounded well and good, the song that the whole flute could produce was even better. "I hope this forest isn't endless or something. Haha... would be interesting if it were, though." Ernest thought about that, and after a minute or to, slowed down in putting the flute together. He hadn't forgetting, dearest no-he would never forget something so important as that, how could he? It would be an insult to his trade to forget about his dear instrument, a portal into his mind and soul. It was funny really, that this portal was so obvious, anyone could plainly hear the song, anyone could say it was very pretty and beautiful. One more learned in music could tell you more, and give more detail on the song, but none of them could guess its secret. Think about what secrets Ernest could hold inside his music, and not a soul would know about it. If Ernest was a dark nature, that code in music could be full of dark intentions, things that could ruin others. But Ernest was not that way, for as much as we can guess, and in the end that was probably for the better. "I was walking in one direction all throughout the forest, sooner or later, one would have to come to an end.." Ernest never thought the forest could be endless. It was very possible, it surely seemed that way. Even though logically it was impossible, that meant nothing if indeed it was endless-some things simply defy logic, and cannot be explained in any other way. Ernest now finished putting together the flute. With the instrument fully fitted together it would sound and play nicely. It was restored to its perfection, the way the flute was meant to be. Ernest was very proud of his flute, out of all the instruments he could play the flute was his favorite. "Would you like to hear the song? It is not complete, but it sounds okay without a official ending."

[Cobus J. Hunter]

{{OOC: }}

"I was walking in one direction all throughout the forest, sooner or later, one would have to come to an end.."

It certainly is true that an endless forest isn't very logical, since everything has to have an end just as everything has to have a beginning. At least it becomes difficult for humans to understand how something can be "endless", probably since no human have ever witnessed something that is endless. Or that was what Cobus thought for himself, thinking deeper about his own words.
"It's hard to wrap you head around it... but if we can think the thought of something being endless, shouldn't it be possible for something to be just that?" he said while his voice drifted off a bit again, but then he shook his head and waved his hand as if he tried to chase away his thoughts, "Forgive me, it doesn't matter."
Cobus had not visited many different worlds, but he had seen a lot and heard many great things about all the wonders of the worlds he'd travelled to, as well as a lot of other myths, legends and stories about other notable "mysteries" and whatnot... but nothing about some endless forest. He decided not to ponder any further about this, at least not right now.

"Would you like to hear the song? It is not complete, but it sounds okay without a official ending."

The man had watched as Ernest revealed what had been hidden in his pockets, and when he had put the flute-pieces together. He didn't know much about music, rarely got the chance to listen to it either but he enjoyed it whenever he got a chance to do so. Cobus nodded and sat down on the ground, "Certainly, go ahead."

[Ernest Jacques]

'I know what I want And I say what I want And no one can take it away (OOC: I've been meaning to ask, would you like for me to make a table for Cobus? ) I know what I want And I say what I want And no one can take it away' "It's hard to wrap you head around it... but if we can think the thought of something being endless, shouldn't it be possible for something to be just that? Forgive me, it doesn't matter." Ernest thought about that. Nature had a funny way of defying logic enough that the two could be considered eternal enemies. "Possibly. It could very well just be an illusion to us," Ernest seemed to awaken something in his brain he usually didn't use. Ernest was intelligent-he was observant, but he never really pondered things like this. It made sense, this forest could be endless-but it very well may not be. "We are very small on a global scale, anything can be considered 'endless' if you are not at the end-or cannot find the end." Ernest then shrugged, he had to note that Cobus wasn't an average person. Most wouldn't say something; or think that much about a simple large forest. Most would assume it was either endless are just very large, and then stop there. "Certainly, go ahead." With the 'okay' given to him, Ernest glanced at the song he was about to play, and then began to play it. The song had a sort of mysterious rhythm to it. It flowed very nicely, but it seemed like it had a 'dark' accent to it. Something one wouldn't usually hear in the chipper voice of a flute. Of course, Ernest meant for it to be this way. Its dark yet happy tone kept the listeners attention the way a good book does. It makes the listener want to hear more of it, even when it has finished. Of course, this description was simply what Ernest tried to convey. Music was up for interpretation, and it was up to Ernest to try to tilt anyone hearing it to think one thing or the other. When the song ended it seemed to end prematurely, as if the ending was not 'perfect' for it, but fit it just the same. After a few moments of pause-as Ernest wanted the song to 'sink' in, he broke the silence. "What do you think of it? So far-anyway?"

[Cobus J. Hunter]

{{OOC: Oh, yes, if you want to. :'3 It'd be very kind. }}

"Possibly. It could very well just be an illusion to us. We are very small on a global scale, anything can be considered 'endless' if you are not at the end-or cannot find the end."

Cobus nodded in agreement. It was true, what Ernest said. And the possibility that the forest didn't have an end was perchance not too big, but it was nevertheless there and that was what mattered the most to Cobus.
The forest was tranquil which one could find soothing at first, but the absence of any "natural" sounds became frightening after a while... haunting, even. 'Maybe the animals, if there is any, are quiet for a reason though,' he thought for himself, 'Maybe one would go insane if they were to be here alone for too long, without any other sounds except the sounds you yourself makes. And your own voice.'

He shooed away his thoughts and concentrated on Ernest instead, but only for a while. When the music started to come he lowered his head slightly and closed his eyes in order to focus properly on the song. When the forest was gone and all that he could see was darkness - although not "true" darkness, he knew what it was to be enveloped in something truly dark, and this was not it since he could see other colours such as blue and red moving ever so slightly in front of him, or rather on his inner eyelids - and it was so much easier to just listen. Nothing disturbed his ears from doing what they were designed to do; to listen closely and carefully.

The song made him feel peculiar, although not in a bad way. He felt that he understood the song and what it meant perfectly. While Cobus listened he also imagined, and a few memories came back to him. But they were not many, and mostly he just slipped in and out of different feelings. It was like he nearly were able to get back some of his memories, but not quite. So when he could almost reach a sad memory, all he did was to feel sad. Nothing more.
At the same time he thought that he understood the song, he didn't. There was just something about it that was hard to comprehend. Maybe it was because Cobus was a difficult person, in a few ways? He didn't know, just as he didn't know that the song was based on him.

"What do you think of it? So far-anyway?"

Cobus opened his eyes and squinted a little because of the sunlight shining through the treetops. He blinked a couple of times and looked at Ernest.

"It was unlike anything I've heard before," he said, finding it hard to say the right words, words that could express his feelings properly. He then remembered the fact that he barely ever listened to music, so he added, "It was great... to say the least, despite it not being finished yet." he nodded and smiled. He thought about the song, about its odd feel of familiarity. And the accent, both happy and sad at the same time.

[Ernest Jacques]

'I know what I want And I say what I want And no one can take it away (OOC: Be done with your table soon. : ) ) I know what I want And I say what I want And no one can take it away' "It was unlike anything I've heard before, It was great... to say the least, despite it not being finished yet." When Ernest had noticed that Cobus had closed his eyes to concentrate on his eyes, for a cold moment he thought that Cobus had figured out the song. That the code had been discovered. However, the fear faded the instant it had come, like a whispering breeze. It was not that Ernest thought the code was bad, it was by no means criminal. However, the last thing he needed was for someone to figure out the key. If one of his songs had said an insulting sentence about the subject-who would be to blame? Ernest shook the thoughts away. He did not have to be so afraid, if no one figured it out yet-what were the chances someone would figure it out now? Slim, indeed. "Thank you," Ernest said, easily. Most enjoyed his music, most said it was great. However, Cobus's first comment was not one he heard often. Some said that, yes, but usually music was often repeated. "Its rare I get a comment like that, most say its great-yes, but not many say it was unlike something they've heard." Ernest continued to think about the comment. Suddenly, Ernest jumped-he swear he heard something. He wasn't sure what it was, and the sound was quite random. 'Am I hearing things now?' When Ernest didn't hear anything, he sighed, 'oh great, now I'm hearing-' And the sound went off again, followed by more of the same sound. They were almost bird like, but consisted of one note, which did not grow higher or lower. "Do you hear that, Cobus?" Ernest said, and the sounds stopped. He realized that the sound corresponded with one of his notes, hence of of the letters. 'That was clearly an 'E',' Ernest thought, trying to figure it out. 'Whatever they were-what if they were spelling something out? E..only one letter?' It confused Ernest, and wondered if the sound would replay itself. "It clearly sounds like one of my notes." Ernest took the flute up to his lips, and played the same note. The sounds then continued, and spelled out, in Ernest's code; E-S-C-A-P-E. "...I wonder..what is is." Even though Ernest instantly knew what it spelled out, how could he say so? Could he say he spoke the language of some creature that seemed to respond to his music?

[Cobus J. Hunter]

{{OOC: Huzzah! 8D And lol, Cobus certainly gets lost in thoughts all the time. }}

"Thank you. Its rare I get a comment like that, most say its great-yes, but not many say it was unlike something they've heard."

Cobus thought about the memories and feelings he'd experienced while listening to the song. Just as he didn't know that the song was about him, Ernest probably didn't know the "effect" the music had had on the listener. It was troublesome though - the few memories that had came back to him was a bit muddled, they were like dreams drifting further away from you when you're getting up from bed and getting ready for your real life. They were fading away, simply put. And soon they'd probably be gone forever or at least for a long time.

A terrible thought then struck him; what IF the supposed memories were actually just dreams? Maybe the tunes coming from the flute had just made him remember some long lost dreams... but then why was he so certain that they were a part of his real life, and not a part of a a dream world that had been made up in his head while he'd been asleep, many days and months ago? Maybe most of my life is just that, dreams. I might've lived most of my life dreaming. My early life at least, if that's true then no wonder I've had a hard time remember.

His face had gone slightly pale and he probably felt it, since he did a big effort in order to stop himself from thinking thoughts like that. He was just being silly, thinking up stupid theories in his head that would neither please him nor bring him any closer to the truth. His mind was just playing tricks on him again and it was nothing to worry about.

"Do you hear that, Cobus?"

It is easier to keep yourself away from unpleasant thoughts when having something else to focus on, and so Cobus concentrated on the noise that could be heard. He too noticed that it was birdlike, but he'd heard many birds in his life and he could tell that this was a bit different. But of course he didn't know much about this forest, nothing at all to be precise, so he thought it could be a strange bird after all. He couldn't come up with another animal that sounded anything like that.

"It clearly sounds like one of my notes." Cobus watched and listened as Ernest played on his flute, and now he heard the obvious resemblance as well. "...I wonder..what is is."

The wanderer thought for a second.

"I can hear it clearly, but I can't say that I've heard anything quite like it before... but I hear the resemblance with your notes as well," he said and tried to see if the creature were anywhere near them, "It sounds like it's close, but I can't see anything around us right now," he said. Maybe it can't be seen, he thought but got annoyed at himself, since his own inquisitive nature could irritate even him, like it had done with so many people, especially in his youth. He ignored that for now, "Can you make out something of its sounds? Is it... pieces of a song, or something similar?" he asked, because of his lack of knowledge when it came to music. "It might be another human," he said but didn't really believe it, and it could be heard in his doubting although calm voice. He was used to weird things and never ruled out the possibility of something being totally different from what would be "normal".