The Trivial Pursuit of Company.
Darkness swiftly rolled along the street, moving silently, menacingly at midnight, the 16th century street was not disturbed bar Millers long strides. His coiff bobbing as long purple puffs of smoke escaped his lips, mingling with the crisp air and staining the stars. The immortal's eyes raked over a particular building and unpleasant memories of his time spent here rushed back and his stomach plummeted unpleasantly.
But he had all of time at his disposal and another world was yearning for a visit. He reached what seemed a suitable alley and strode down it. Miller straightened his rusty coat and if he had a heart, it would be beating ever so slightly faster in anticipation, he adored the Tunnel.
Without any more delay, he snapped his fingers. The sound echoing and reverbarating against the narrow alley. It repeated and repeated, gradually getting louder each time till it was clear and crisp. The hypnotic sound slowly turned to what was a soft voice crooning, a mumble at first, barely audible, but after a moment or so, the voice clearly purred an "I'm here..." and a chill ran up along his arm and down into chest. Then it happened
Long thick gold bars connected all around, meeting in the dark abyss, forming overhead and sealing off Miller what resembled a large golden sphere. Colours bounced rhythmically between the ingots, the silence remaned as they wove and danced above him. Though invisible to the mere mortal's eyes, it soon became apparent that the long thick gold bars were not bars, and it was not encasing Miller in a sphere after all.
The thick golden bars split. Dividing into thousands of thin golden pieces of thread. The friction between the constantly moving and spinning threads creating a gentle hum and colours dancing as they rubbed off of each other. Miller's ears rung, he rocked up onto his heels and a small high pitched giggle that he would deny happened escaped his lips.
It was under no circumstances a spere, capsule, or flask of any kind but a long tunnel, extending forever in both directions as the long thin golden thread constantly moved and swished and lengthened it far beyond the horizon. All traces of the street Miller previously occupied was lost, replaced by the glorius golden tunnel, complete with a melodic hum and dancing colours and sparks.
Miller allowed himseld a moment to admire the spectacle of the effulgent interior, it was not every travel that the Tunnel was so vivid, it was like the stars used to assemble the form at this moment had been especially phosphorescent.
Time-travel was outlawes years ago, there was a long list of reasons drawn up but the real one was simply that they didn't like it because they didn't understand it. Ignorance: a common human weakness that not even immortals were immune to. At which stage he made the conscious decision to become an illegal traveller. Lonely. But Miller refused to give up on his passion.
Time travel is most peculiar. It is an organised chaos of an artform, a balance just right. If it were too entail too much chaos, it wouldn't function properly and failure and catasrophe would be inevitable. If it were to be too organised, its fiery nature would be lost.
There was no lonely sound of footsteps as he carefully treaded over the shivering golden thread. Only the hum and the scenery to distract him of what he had left behind, new friends, lovers, aquaintaces and enemies were abandoned with each trip. And it didn't hurt quite as much as it did before, like his metaphorical heart had developed a tough exterior, like he was numb to the pain of leaving friends and void of any true emotion. Which was not a good way to be at all, Miller decided.
Wandering through the bright tunnel, hands jammed in his long coats pockets, he was lost in thought. Not a thought of much interest, just his own mindful ramblings, he almost didn't notice a rupture in the tunnel ahead.
But he did notice it, about 10 metres away there was a puncture the golden threads . And as Miller drew nearer, he recognised it was not a puncture, but an onging attempt at a puncture. The golden threads were being pulled at desperately from the other side. The outlines of hands could barely be made out through the thin material of the tunnel. Someone was tugging at the outside of the tunnel, gold mist seeping in slowly, and fogging up Miller's vision.
And Miller made a split second decision.
He reached down to where the hands outline was, slowly and gently pulling two of the threads apart in a most gentle fashion as to not alarm or anger the Tunnel. The Hands was understandably alarmed by the unexpected arrival of another party, and started thrashing wildly. The Tunnel rumbled angrily, and shook ever so slightly.
"Stop moving!" Miller let out a menacing hiss which was a stark contrast to his regular happy mood. "You're making her angry..." he patted the floor of the tunnel, rubbing soothing circles with his free hand.
He reached out, searching in the darkness for the hand. Oh! fingers, hand, an arm... Yes human, definitely human. And in all his eagerness of meeting another traveller (one who had clearly not perfected the art of entering the tunnel) he forgot his sense and roughly pulled the person into the Tunnel, one or two of the threads tearing and the hum increasing to a sound resembling a roar of a lion.
The Tunnel roughly turned on it's side, and it's two inhabitants were roughly thrown around, flailing as the Tunnel turned and spun, either in punishment to the inhabitants or in it's own pain. After one last rough jerk as the golden thread worked to patch up the hole, the Tunnel calmed.
It all returned to normal and the ringing that had been sounding in Miller's ears was replaced with the usual gentle hum. He groaned and moved to get up, then realising there was another form laying on top of him.
Good god the Hand had a face, and a body, with long nimble fingers, auburn curly hair, and simply brilliant yellow eyes
She blinked up at him, then removing himself from him, and adjusting her azure cape. She may have said several things but all Miller caught was a huffed "That was your fault."
Indignancy spiked "My fault?! Your the one who clearly can't enter the Tunnel properly!" he squawked standing up. Questions were silently communicated between them but none really asked nor answered. Nobody used the Tunnel anymore, nobody was allowed travel anymore.
She muttered something that sounded like an excuse, but Miller was still focusing on her bright yellow eyes.
"Renaissance Italy then?"
If one illegal time traveller could bend time and it's format, challenge the laws of physics and create galaxys, who knew what wild adventures two could have. And if Miller wasn't as lonely anymore, that was another bonus.