Post by 0 on Jul 11, 2017 17:41:15 GMT
There was a pulse; a vibration, as if some chord had been struck.
A loud hum roamed out of the void between universes, silenced by the void of universal space.
A single strum, it crossed that barrier with ease, and echoed across any atmospheres it touched.
The ripple that was sent forth through space and time was surprisingly small, and, to those with an observant eye, it might have seemed even purposeful, considering the cause of it all.
It was as though Andromeda had finally collided with the Milky Way, only this was on the scale of universes.
Unstoppable force met immovable object, and an explosion of heat radiated outwards, the nearest galactic supercluster simply obliterated by the force of impact, all of its contents melting into a steaming pot of solid plasma.
A second force met the first, though this one was made to redirect the energy that threatened to destroy yet more galaxies.
Rays bouncing off a mirror, the force was rebounded, and met with the newly formed plasma.
Solid was forced into liquid, and the plasma flared like a splash in a still pool, a massive wave curved outwards and upwards, blocked by the strange force that now held it back.
Then, it was as though a plug had been pulled, and all the plasma began to drain into the gaping mouth that had been left between both universes, pouring down the throat of that which had drawn the first sword.
Save for that curious, momentary hum, nothing more would be felt beyond the boundaries of what had once been a rather impressive supercluster.
The universe that had begun on such a collision course was markedly different from the one that had instead sat idly by, perhaps wholly unexpecting of the timed threat.
What could be seen of it was dark and cold, yet with an interplay of lights between the straight-edged structures that floated through its own spatial void, which itself was filled with a dark watery fluid, like shadowy fog or the abyssal ocean, although it was notably without pressure.
Grid-like, carefully organized, it was almost like a massive city in the night, or ancient ruins buried deep within the depths of the ocean.
It seemed empty and lifeless from so far away, although between the flickering cities there were extensive forests of tree-shaped galaxies, dark branches bearing fruits of light without warmth; a supercluster in its own right, it had been located near the point of impact, and now sported a gaping hole where once there was a dense cluster of these massive trees.
In one direction parallel to it, a glowing golden mass boiled below the hole, the heated foreign plasma charring the chilled stars.
A lean, worm-like figure, the size of one of those heatless stars, drifted through the empty space the universe now sported, body bowed like a harp with every purposeful movement made to propel itself forwards, a sleek shadow cast upon the blue lights around it.
He couldn't stop the wheeling of the universe, but at least he managed to mitigate the damage.
It could have been much worse.
This universe may have been small in comparison, but the impact still could have wiped out an astonishing amount in the both of them.
He hoped the other universe wouldn't take a keen affront to what could be perceived as an attack; or, seeing as how he'd attempted to revert further chaos, a carefully plotted threat made to intimidate the other, while also robbing it of some of its matter.
He was sure his wouldn't be able to stand a chance against the bigger universe, should it decide to retaliate, even if he wasn't already too tired from his attempts to keep the situation contained.
The view, at least, wasn't bad:
The closest remaining galaxies would have an amazing view of his garden, enormous coral-like trees holding stars between their bristling leaves, while his side could now see the unique oblong and spiraling lights that spun through the other universe.
A loud hum roamed out of the void between universes, silenced by the void of universal space.
A single strum, it crossed that barrier with ease, and echoed across any atmospheres it touched.
The ripple that was sent forth through space and time was surprisingly small, and, to those with an observant eye, it might have seemed even purposeful, considering the cause of it all.
It was as though Andromeda had finally collided with the Milky Way, only this was on the scale of universes.
Unstoppable force met immovable object, and an explosion of heat radiated outwards, the nearest galactic supercluster simply obliterated by the force of impact, all of its contents melting into a steaming pot of solid plasma.
A second force met the first, though this one was made to redirect the energy that threatened to destroy yet more galaxies.
Rays bouncing off a mirror, the force was rebounded, and met with the newly formed plasma.
Solid was forced into liquid, and the plasma flared like a splash in a still pool, a massive wave curved outwards and upwards, blocked by the strange force that now held it back.
Then, it was as though a plug had been pulled, and all the plasma began to drain into the gaping mouth that had been left between both universes, pouring down the throat of that which had drawn the first sword.
Save for that curious, momentary hum, nothing more would be felt beyond the boundaries of what had once been a rather impressive supercluster.
The universe that had begun on such a collision course was markedly different from the one that had instead sat idly by, perhaps wholly unexpecting of the timed threat.
What could be seen of it was dark and cold, yet with an interplay of lights between the straight-edged structures that floated through its own spatial void, which itself was filled with a dark watery fluid, like shadowy fog or the abyssal ocean, although it was notably without pressure.
Grid-like, carefully organized, it was almost like a massive city in the night, or ancient ruins buried deep within the depths of the ocean.
It seemed empty and lifeless from so far away, although between the flickering cities there were extensive forests of tree-shaped galaxies, dark branches bearing fruits of light without warmth; a supercluster in its own right, it had been located near the point of impact, and now sported a gaping hole where once there was a dense cluster of these massive trees.
In one direction parallel to it, a glowing golden mass boiled below the hole, the heated foreign plasma charring the chilled stars.
A lean, worm-like figure, the size of one of those heatless stars, drifted through the empty space the universe now sported, body bowed like a harp with every purposeful movement made to propel itself forwards, a sleek shadow cast upon the blue lights around it.
He couldn't stop the wheeling of the universe, but at least he managed to mitigate the damage.
It could have been much worse.
This universe may have been small in comparison, but the impact still could have wiped out an astonishing amount in the both of them.
He hoped the other universe wouldn't take a keen affront to what could be perceived as an attack; or, seeing as how he'd attempted to revert further chaos, a carefully plotted threat made to intimidate the other, while also robbing it of some of its matter.
He was sure his wouldn't be able to stand a chance against the bigger universe, should it decide to retaliate, even if he wasn't already too tired from his attempts to keep the situation contained.
The view, at least, wasn't bad:
The closest remaining galaxies would have an amazing view of his garden, enormous coral-like trees holding stars between their bristling leaves, while his side could now see the unique oblong and spiraling lights that spun through the other universe.