"The sun grew darker and dimmer as the humans' towers rose taller. Some believe it was to keep ourselves from burning in hellfire as we ascended to the heavens; a marriage to nature that ensured our well-being."
"Humanity had fallen unto its hubris. That unequivocal self admiration remained – even in the last of days, as they built upon where we now stand..."
Rifel crossed his arms, tapping a single foot against the harshly depressed soil; oblivious to the destruction of the young grass and flora this action would surely author. He raised an arm to gesture as if he were pointing below; his large vulpine paw implying that significance may lay in the infinite abyss below.
This, as if some sort of pseudo-cue, caused the ursa beside him to step ahead and look as instructed, squinting his eyes as the intense sun shone on the two conversing males, penetrating the clouds to mark the slowly continuing day.
"You're the only person I know, who can come here for days on end and stare only at fog – as if some sort of latent importance were waiting to be found." He scoffed, standing almost a full foot shorter than Rifel, and easily twice as burly.
"It's not what I'm looking to find, Duncan." Rifel responded. "It's what I know I cannot find that is most important to me. As if it were a plague."
"A plague indeed." was Duncan's reply. "When it impacts your life so. I dislike having to be bold, but The Triumvirate has spoken."
"As they do almost endlessly. Please, explain yourself." Rifel bit.
"They've spoken of your inaction. It seems to bother them more than I."
The vulpine retreated his paw, and brought it up to stroke his chin. This was a contemplative gesture, and based purely on superstition, it helped him think.
"My inaction to what end?" Rifel asked patiently, continuing to stroke the small tuft of fur that had protruded from his chin. "I am tasked with many assignments."
"They would not say. It must be a very secretive matter."
"So you do not know?"
"I do not."
"Then I know... exactly what they spoke of." Rifel smiled.
The two males stood on what was commonly referred to as an outlook. This kinmade creation came about several hundred years ago, and at its essence was a gargantuan drop-off. When the natural beauty of the Towers' edges began to recede due to time's harsh erosion, the inhabitants thought to beautify them with hedges, water and flowers. It was never established the distance between here and the surface, but any kin was sure that the fall was nigh insurmountable, partly due to the constant fog that would obscure any effort to make out the surface below. The Towers had resembled the architecture of ancient humanity – as if in their last moments, they were reverted to a primitive state, repercussions of their failures.
With that in mind, during their creation they were often used in a disciplinary fashion – to send those unfit for life to their death in the unknown. This had certainly been outlawed almost as fast as it had been put into motion – and the outlooks became places of serenity -- of isolation and beauty.
When one were to bathe themselves in the vistas the outlook would provide, their lives would be surely changed. But due to obvious reasons, it was a day of fog, leaving little to be seen below and multitudes to the imagination -- as most days had done, and most would continue to do.
"Will you speak honestly with me, Duncan?" Rifel proposed, as he tilted his head towards the younger ursa, who still seemed to be overtaken by the fog.
"It-- it would be my pleasure." Duncan shook his head for clarity.
"I want you to think very carefully before you answer my question."
"You were staring quite profoundly over the outlook. What did you see?"
"The same as you, and nothing more." Duncan replied.
Between the two conversing males rested a minuscule stream. It originated from inside The Triumvirate's amphitheatre, and slowly trickled over the outlook.
Valessa strained to hear the continuation of this exchange from her vantage point beyond some nearby bushes, her notebook clutched tightly in-paw as she hoped to glean valuable information from the males. It didn't matter if the information interested her; while this conversation was certainly intriguing, the important thing was whether it was of interest to her client. If it could be sold for money – that was all that she cared about. She had to eat, after all, so she knelt down to obscure herself more, as the conversation continued -- completely invisible to the two kin guarding the outlook.