chase away my hurt, drive away the misery
#1
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fwee! corsair's entrance! Big Grin


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I have nothing. Nothing to love, nothing to lose. So why do I still hesitate? There’s nothing left for me here, except suffering and pain. It hurts…. It hurts so much…..

Paws scraped along the ground as Corsair staggered along, lurching like a drunk. It was primarily caused by malnutrition and the heavy heart he held. The sorrows and ghosts of the past that he insisted on dragging with him pulled him down, beckoning to him. They called, inviting him to join them, to become merely a memory, lost within the dredges of time. He was tempted too, so tempted to end this pointless existence, but he couldn’t do it, couldn’t take that last step off the cliff, couldn’t ignore his body’s pleas and starve himself. Soft, harsh laughter poured forth as he slammed sideways into a wall, sliding down the front of it. Corsair felt exceptionally lethargic, more so than usual. Was this yet another starvation attempt? Probably. How pitiful. His vision was starting to blur and he could feel his energy depleting. Might as well end this stupid notion now. After all, it would fall through eventually and it was better sooner than later after all. Corsair turned his head slowly, but he could see nothing but ruins surrounding him. The remains of something that had been grand once upon a time. How fitting that he was here now. It reminded him so much of himself, left to rot; something for time to slowly dispose of. He smiled self-deprecatingly and continued on, forcing his body into fluid motions, instead of the jerky swaying it’d been performing before. His pawsteps were just about silent as he went into stealth mode, but the occasional slight limp produced sounds that normally wouldn’t exist if he’d been fully fed. There probably wasn’t anything here to eat, but just in case there was, he wouldn’t want to scare it away now would he? Corsair kept low to the ground, gliding forth like a living liquid shadow. He’d always been best at stealth, silence and that sort of thing. It’d been useful and still was in avoiding unwanted sociality, not that it had been its original purpose.



Remembering that, he felt a pang of loneliness and paused momentarily, melancholy etched in the weary grooves of his face. It wasn’t that he outright hated company. It was just…better off this way. After all, from what he’d experienced, he felt as if he were a living breathing curse. Anyone who came near him would end up in disaster and he himself was never to find happiness. After all, that’s what curses did, wasn’t it? Made sure joy and ecstasy were kept at bay? A faint smile touched his lips as he remembered what his mother had once told him. They were of Roma lineage, and their family name, Maudire, was French for curse. There was a traditional family myth about how they obtained it. Legend said that their ancestors had been able to curse others, whether it be for misfortune or unhappiness, but at the same time, they were able to lift curses. This was apparently passed on to the descendants, but it had gotten lost somewhere along the line, diluted no doubt by the many cross-breedings into the family. Such an amusing little story it seemed now. It was too bad those far-back ancestors never considered the possibility that they could be the curse, rather than have the ability. Or maybe it was only him, somehow obtaining a gene that had been twisted along the way down to him. Corsair laughed quietly to himself. Even to his own ears, it sounded hollow, drained of anything except for the deafening tone of loss and yearning deep in its core. Eyes filled with dejection, he continued on, moving through the ruins like a ghost that belonged, keeping mostly to the shadows, scanning the remains of the broken-down neighborhood even with the knowledge that there was no prey to be found. Out of sheer fatigue, he finally settled down on a broken pile of rubble and sighed. ”Can pain leave on its own? Can misery? I feel lonely….so alone….” His lilting voice whispered the words, to be swept away by the winds again, unheard. Or was it? Corsair suddenly felt disturbed and very uncomfortable, as if he were being watched by phantom eyes.




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