11-26-2007, 04:58 PM
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Putting this on the 17th, 'cause omg, my timeline's fucked. :| Hope that's okay? PS - this sucks.
At that point, most of the open wounds were probably just in his head (it's where everything had started in the first place, anyway). He still thought the gash across his throat should have killed him, but the honest truth was he didn't actually remember that much. Maybe he had actually been conscious, maybe he had just been a ghost; hell, maybe it had all been a dream and he had tried to kill himself a third (fourth? was it bad that he couldn't remember?) time. Maybe he had really wanted to kill Tsunami, just so he wouldn't have to face him, just so he wouldn't have to hear him ask why like Wannabe Pirate had asked why, just so he wouldn't have to deal with it because he was a thief and a coward, a liar, even if the promise he'd kept was the worst he'd ever made. Not that he could know about that it, really.
Except that he was the monster and the monster was he, and any schism in his mind was just a pretentious cover-up, wasn't it?
The giant yellow star was setting again. There were a thousand symbols that could have been drawn from that; darkness was vanquishing good again because he hadn't been killed at dawn. The fireflies had died in the night because the cold was already there. The snow on the ground tried to hide all of the blood and battlescars when the sunshine wasn't there to reveal the truth. Cowards, all of them. He leaned forward and propped is scarred forehead against his scarred hands, letting all of his tangled mane and hair fall around him. It was cold out and he should really just head in before he froze into a statue there under the old oak tree, but he didn't. That was probably what he wanted anyway.
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Putting this on the 17th, 'cause omg, my timeline's fucked. :| Hope that's okay? PS - this sucks.
At that point, most of the open wounds were probably just in his head (it's where everything had started in the first place, anyway). He still thought the gash across his throat should have killed him, but the honest truth was he didn't actually remember that much. Maybe he had actually been conscious, maybe he had just been a ghost; hell, maybe it had all been a dream and he had tried to kill himself a third (fourth? was it bad that he couldn't remember?) time. Maybe he had really wanted to kill Tsunami, just so he wouldn't have to face him, just so he wouldn't have to hear him ask why like Wannabe Pirate had asked why, just so he wouldn't have to deal with it because he was a thief and a coward, a liar, even if the promise he'd kept was the worst he'd ever made. Not that he could know about that it, really.
Except that he was the monster and the monster was he, and any schism in his mind was just a pretentious cover-up, wasn't it?
The giant yellow star was setting again. There were a thousand symbols that could have been drawn from that; darkness was vanquishing good again because he hadn't been killed at dawn. The fireflies had died in the night because the cold was already there. The snow on the ground tried to hide all of the blood and battlescars when the sunshine wasn't there to reveal the truth. Cowards, all of them. He leaned forward and propped is scarred forehead against his scarred hands, letting all of his tangled mane and hair fall around him. It was cold out and he should really just head in before he froze into a statue there under the old oak tree, but he didn't. That was probably what he wanted anyway.