Trust me: The Tale of Phoenix the Ashen 4 The Cement Jungle

How any creature could bare the ceaseless constraints of the city was beyond him. The overbearingly high buildings and the darkness within the corners made the exemplary home for crooks and consuls alike. Exploring the district was as if he was navigating through Daedalus's labyrinthine trap. Few areas held asylum for nature within the concrete bars of civilization. Such inconceivable amounts of people grouped in one place. What horrible conditions were these people stuffed in for an excuse of living space. He crossed a few living spaces as small as a door, or rather the box the door came in. Any welcoming sight such as welcoming scents and the such directed him to run down excuses for food vendors. What he could find in the rabble of people was a ubiquitous feeling of intense despondency. Such despondency that caused even he, a man filled with prospect and virtue, to doubt the future. He would look upon that day and remember the only thing that kept him from the brink of losing hope, was the articulate mother that could be heard as he walked through the streets that night, the berceuse that rang around him like a bell, such a wonderful and loving tune that even the most impetuous of actions would slow. From there Phoenix returned home, finally finding a light at the end of the day. Even for a man who'd lived over two hundred years and still had the body of a twenty five year old, he collapsed from exhaustion after making his way down to his basement garden, not even minding to lock the door before going down and into the grass, literally falling asleep.