Foxy Kettu

[FoxyPox]

It feels like eons have passed since I've been outside. Maybe it has.
Almost forgot how that feels - the cold Sun welcomes me like an old friend, its gaze warming up ever so slightly. The winds swirl around my resolve, probing it with naught but a whisper. The very earth seemed to, for an infinitesimal moment, slow to ponder this rare sight, this lost creature so far removed from his habitat.

He stood in the portal still clinging onto the frame, his resolve not completely matured. His screen was his shrine, his calling, his life. Life was simple, clean cut, and 1080P. Still, something tugged at his soul. His heartstrings played to the tune of dramatic space operas, epic battles against legendary space invaders or titans as old as time and space itself. Like a master pianist he could unlock nigh incomprehensible puzzles of unknown origin, and whisper words of power not even known to the humans who invented them. He has dealt with gods and monsters, and walked out the better. He has won the heart of a thousand true loves. He has caught all of the Pokemon, conquered a thousand trials and tribulations more than thrice, and yet... He felt hollow.

The crux of the matter was that it was all a lie to begin with. The offerings to the shrine might as well have been cast into the bottom of an endless well, or a void of absolute blackness. He was master of everything, and of nothing. HIs victories mattered only to him. His shrine was a beautiful, hollow matrix of ideas.

Perhaps he felt the ideas must be translated into actions.
Perhaps those were not the ideas he was seeking in the first place.
Perhaps one of those very ideas had infected him over his long isolation.

Whatever the case, it was he and he alone who had come to the decision to start upon that well-trodden, unpaved road to... Whatever it is he was seeking.
Whatever it was, he was confident he'd find it out here, and not in there. And thus into the great unown he takes one small step for an introvert, one flying leap for-
*trips over nothing, into the unforgiving mud that has blighted the world.*

...a perfect way to start what was going to be a perfect journey.