I Want a Taste..
#1
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ooc: Kimitachi



♥ ♦ ♥ ♦ ♥

How can I believe when this cloud hangs over me?

You're the part of me that I don't wanna see...

Forget It.

OOC: Hiya! This is a recycled first post, I’m a little rusty but here I am!


IC:



The way the wind was howling now, he doubted he’d want to stay around this place much longer. His travels had driven him to this expansive shore where the branches twisted toward the sky and the seagulls gruffly cawed for forsaken glory. His whole body felt torn and exhausted. He had come to the realization that he was on the precipice of something beyond his comprehending, that his sister was probably miles away from this land and the likelihood he’d encounter her again was close to none. There was another strong burst and he listened to the cliffs howl, the haunting lullabies bubbling up through him, making him close his eyes and just wish they’d take it all, take it all away. It was freezing out here, and a blink of sunlight would be much appreciated. In his eyes the sun had invented a new type of mercy. Why was he here in this land of the damned without his sister, where the seagulls were actually too busy feasting instead of soaring because of the fattening carrion that dotted the seashore?



He was sitting way too close to the edge of this cliff, and he could only wonder that if he did jump and let his soul go to wherever it was headed, would the seagulls even find him? Would the wolves here that clambered about their perfect haven notice the sunken form on a cold, watery shore and say, “God that fellow there, what a misfortune.” Here, he could only expect the latter. ”Oh old boy, you’re so pessimistic, we should put some pep in your step ‘eh?” He let out a loud chuckle and what a sight it was to see, the black prince lit up in all his copper glory and laughing against the pale blue sky. He had to stop, let his mind resettle, but that easy-going grin was written upon his lips like the pages of a story, and beneath it his father’s hard pressed words burning his soul. Oh yes, he was tormented daily by this, but he wanted something more, something he dreaded to let anyone else see. As long as he kept to himself no one would see anyway. Hell, no one had gotten close enough to see anything burning ,brutal hate.




"Come on birdie. Sing it for me." The seagull in question let out a guttural caw, which spoke volumes that it had enough of being taunted by a deranged wolf, and flew off. Maybe he was getting delusional and it was time to turn around and figure this world out, a world not surrounded by water. Not a reflection of his inner turmoil that was this over soaked earth. The more stubborn part of his mind told his body to screw itself. He’d listen to the wind howl, let the seagulls squabble and his intelligence contradict itself for as long as it could until this twisted land claimed him. He’d be known as the wolf that died of drinking the seawater and let his skin turn to a dewy husk where he stood. They’d tell stories about him, find out his miserable tale, and then the world would know. There would be pictures and legends about his failures and his accomplishments, and he’d become their beautiful martyr and lovely statue until finally he crumpled away into nothing but bones.


Dust to dust and ashes to ashes, that's the way it goes. He was sweating bullets even though it was freezing, a sure sign that something utterly malevolent was on the prowl. If he could stay alive long enough the world would know his name, and then his sister would rush out and his search would be over. Over and over again, until his story was done. The legends would run on and on, but his true tale would end here. He would not continue to live on a planet where luck was what you survived on. He should stop thinking like this and get a drink. “Drink the sea water.” What a soothing beautiful idea. The son of a bitch thought him to be that stupid eh? Sooner or later he’d get out of here, get some real water and continue searching out this miserable hunk of earth he had stumbled upon. But for now, finding something not so perfect was a blessing in disguise.



”I’m thinking…”
"It’s time to talk about… "
Breaking Benjamin- Forget It. “DESTRUCTION.”

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