02-15-2008, 03:38 PM
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It was familiar, the smoke and the fire, the building on the fire, the heaviness in the air, and the smoldering feeling. The snow on the ground was cold, but the breeze was warm with ashes and cinders against his face. And he was drawn to it, a moth to the flame, because masochists liked watching the world burn away on their broken wings, because there was a peacefulness in the deconstruction of a past, even if it was just an illusion. Physical monuments would be burned and their remains scattered in the sky, but no matter how much time passed and no matter how much distance they put between them, the memories would always be there, even after they were forgotten.
Without the mess of blonde dreadlocks, the hybrid almost didn't recognize the other. But really, who else could it be? He saw the church as the library even though the twisting smile in the back of his head had been the one to burn it down. He saw books fall from bookshelves, flinging themselves into the rich orange and yellow. And he couldn't tell if they were actually there or in his memory or somewhere else entirely. Laruku stood next to Ahren, close enough that their hands almost brushed together, but he didn't think about that. Someone was screaming about betrayal, but he couldn't make out the words over the roar of the flame. Someone else was laughing hysterically, but that was pretty normal anyway. He had nothing to say.
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It was familiar, the smoke and the fire, the building on the fire, the heaviness in the air, and the smoldering feeling. The snow on the ground was cold, but the breeze was warm with ashes and cinders against his face. And he was drawn to it, a moth to the flame, because masochists liked watching the world burn away on their broken wings, because there was a peacefulness in the deconstruction of a past, even if it was just an illusion. Physical monuments would be burned and their remains scattered in the sky, but no matter how much time passed and no matter how much distance they put between them, the memories would always be there, even after they were forgotten.
Without the mess of blonde dreadlocks, the hybrid almost didn't recognize the other. But really, who else could it be? He saw the church as the library even though the twisting smile in the back of his head had been the one to burn it down. He saw books fall from bookshelves, flinging themselves into the rich orange and yellow. And he couldn't tell if they were actually there or in his memory or somewhere else entirely. Laruku stood next to Ahren, close enough that their hands almost brushed together, but he didn't think about that. Someone was screaming about betrayal, but he couldn't make out the words over the roar of the flame. Someone else was laughing hysterically, but that was pretty normal anyway. He had nothing to say.