11-14-2007, 04:34 PM
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Your Internet IS sadistic. D: I suffered tooooo. Your posts never suck; we've been through this. x3
It was the only thing he had left to want. The empty silence that lay just beyond the field where the tall, black trees acted as a gate to the everything else he could have only guessed at before -- it was death and it was the only sort of peace he could wish for. He deserved it. He had deserved it from more than a year ago when the very first wicked thing had died by his teeth and maybe it had been then that he had first started crumbling under the weight of his world crashing down on him because it certainly wasn't anyone else's world. There was nothing and no one else to blame; everything was contained within himself and that spiraling vortex that was just about to stop, just about to finally pull him under and drown him in the crushing, black sea.
He had experienced near-deaths before, but maybe this was the closest he had ever gotten. Had there ever been so much blood? Was it even his? Did it even matter? Ryoujoku could be labeled an existentialist -- he derived his own purpose and meaning, even if it was half-assed and haphazard. Death was not something he sought or feared and even the pride he held was pretentious at best. Did he really care if he died? And did he really care if it was by the grey wolf with the brilliant yellow eyes? Struggling until the very end was a principle he humored at best, but he didn't suppose it really mattered. In the aftermath, no one would really remember at all.
It was a peculiar thing, death, dying, or almost dying. His body was numbing down with the pain and destruction and his mind was too. Breaking down, breaking down. Maybe he could have snapped his head back in time to counter the blur of white fangs, but he didn't try this time. Laruku could feel the teeth at his throat, reaching through all the layers of tawny coyote fur taken from his psychotic father. Wasn't it only right for it to end this way? He wasn't aware that he could suddenly feel all of the gashes and holes in his body with excruciating clarity; he wasn't aware that the demon had sunken again into the recesses of his mind where it cackled and crowed about the end of the world.
All he could see was a tiny and furious sun glowing in his face and the even more brilliant sunrise exploding in the sky behind them. Evil was always vanquished at dawn. It was only fitting. It was true -- there was nothing wrong at all. This was perfect. This was absolutely perfect. And he closed his eyes.
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Your Internet IS sadistic. D: I suffered tooooo. Your posts never suck; we've been through this. x3
It was the only thing he had left to want. The empty silence that lay just beyond the field where the tall, black trees acted as a gate to the everything else he could have only guessed at before -- it was death and it was the only sort of peace he could wish for. He deserved it. He had deserved it from more than a year ago when the very first wicked thing had died by his teeth and maybe it had been then that he had first started crumbling under the weight of his world crashing down on him because it certainly wasn't anyone else's world. There was nothing and no one else to blame; everything was contained within himself and that spiraling vortex that was just about to stop, just about to finally pull him under and drown him in the crushing, black sea.
He had experienced near-deaths before, but maybe this was the closest he had ever gotten. Had there ever been so much blood? Was it even his? Did it even matter? Ryoujoku could be labeled an existentialist -- he derived his own purpose and meaning, even if it was half-assed and haphazard. Death was not something he sought or feared and even the pride he held was pretentious at best. Did he really care if he died? And did he really care if it was by the grey wolf with the brilliant yellow eye
It was a peculiar thing, death, dying, or almost dying. His body was numbing down with the pain and destruction and his mind was too. Breaking down, breaking down. Maybe he could have snapped his head back in time to counter the blur of white fangs, but he didn't try this time. Laruku could feel the teeth at his throat, reaching through all the layers of tawny coyote fur taken from his psychotic father. Wasn't it only right for it to end this way? He wasn't aware that he could suddenly feel all of the gashes and holes in his body with excruciating clarity; he wasn't aware that the demon had sunken again into the recesses of his mind where it cackled and crowed about the end of the world.
All he could see was a tiny and furious sun glowing in his face and the even more brilliant sunrise exploding in the sky behind them. Evil was always vanquished at dawn. It was only fitting. It was true -- there was nothing wrong at all. This was perfect. This was absolutely perfect. And he closed his eyes.