Rubato rolled slowly into the temporal wave. 

Another quake of the ion river had made him lose his grip; unable to secure an adequate perch in time.

So he drifted. He knew he shouldn’t play in the waves, but he could, so he did.

The one called Joy came easily to Rubato. She wrapped herself around him, offering boundless motivation to play.

She was not capable of moving with him, so she watched as he danced between the pulses that would soon evolve into a nano, one of many in the temporal wave that made up a Turn.

She enjoyed the taste of adventure that his reckless spirit effused. And laughed at his boundless lack of self control.

For Rubato, he knew that her laughter was an opiate and would ultimately be his demise. 

But for now, he bathed in her gifts, knowing full well that it would all end soon. And it would be his fault.

And he did not care about that.

Or Joy.