The World of Kaos
Kaos – viewed from above, as the cities strung on with dark twilight strings, was anything but disorderly. It appeared as if energy was vesseling through the core into dynamic space, the constant bustling change giving the planet the predominant quality of being stuck in a time-flux. The Palace of the Warrior-King, only built because he was amused at the utterance of a foreign aristocrat who told him in no uncertain terms the necessity for one, even the palace was morphing. The houses were constantly a hybrid of what it had been a moment ago – but though there was constant movement in Kaos, there was no noise. Nothing changed in ugly distorted fashion, but in glowing white embers of new ideas being born.
They emerged and morphed the walls in laminated, embroidered spirals. Ivory-glazed residue satiating the whole of Kaos. This glaze was the oxygen of the world – it emenated out through the solar-plexus of every Kaotian, feeding the ever-evolving idea of Kaos. All this was true except when it came to the Warriors, who mesmerised the glaze into stillness upon their will. The land was solid as the trinkling raindrop splash on the cement, and as fluid as dissapearing gold. The land changed according to the Kaotian’s whim. Oh yes, people had homes – places where they wished to belong for a while – but they moved on too. Save for that they were Kaotian – which linked them all by heart.
The Kaotian Warriors. Best we introduce them now. Intense, judicially framed bastions with feline grace. Gregorious and yet fearsome, staggering preciseness excentuating their predatory stride. Their alliegence is sworn to truth and truth alone, and no Warrior is the same in their method. But perhaps everything about Kaos becomes obvious by the way the slaves are regarded. It is a slave world after all, and Slyway and AlexisMia Kaos were its God and Goddess. And yet, they too were slaves. There is no humiliation in being a slave of Kaos – all it meant was an absolute surrender to truth. What is so belittling or beguiling about honouring that which is most important in life? Masters would sit as slaves would at times, and they cared not for being mistaken. There is no dishonour in it. This very act seperated them from Goreans or Humans or any other civilization for that matter. It is why Slyway often cites in fashionable understatement as he chuckles, “We do things differently in Kaos.”
Different indeed. This did not weaken the power and will of a Master, on the contrary, it strengthened it, it made them formidable – for their surrender freed them to far greater depth than any domme with no knowledge of Kaos could envision. It is difficult to explain the level in which Kaotians took responsibility for their actions without going into the way Kaos trains their slaves. A fueled, fuller level of submission emblazoned with fire.
Now after all that is said, Kaos looked as ordinary as any other world. The chant of Kaos breathed differently on every lip, and nature designed itself invariably to the sunlight of the Kaotian heart. Buildings towered like glaciar thrones and stooped like ravens gliding through mist… for there never ceased to be the shimmering drizzle of raindrops – the eternal presence of the Goddess Herain, the symbol of Kaos. Kaotians are mysterious for the paradox that they are, and it is not so much a willful exchange as much as it is a natural state of existence. Individuality is applauded whilst random routine is swiftly broken, even transformed into a dynamic dance.
This making Kaos the greatest aphrodesiac, far surpassing the beauty of heaven, for it embraced hell too. Yet Kaos was and will never be known for tourism. As hospitable its inhabitants may be, they were simultaneously as jovially mischievious as to weave everything around them to their heartbeat. If you came to Kaos, you never left. Ever. In fear of this, some people just don’t go. But it matters not, for Kaos will surely come to you. They are cheeky that way, and that’s the reason why this story ever took place.