cramming the world into a (phrase)

[Laruku Tears]

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He sounded almost absurd to him. Power had never been something he had sought, but rather something that had been handed to him, unwillingly even. He had never gone looking for responsibility, though perhaps some did not directly associate responsibility with power. But if there could be so much about himself that he didn't know or understand, then would it be so surprising at all if that turned out to be the answer after all? Then again, accepting any explanation without really understanding was just giving into an easy answer. Everything seemed to lead back to the same conclusion then, that either he didn't know himself at all or he had been in denial a very long time. Maybe both. And there was no way to tell because one contradicted the other. He couldn't know he was in denial without knowing himself. And could he really even be in denial if he didn't understand what he was denying?



I'm not Macbeth, the hybrid said matter-of-factly, though he didn't sound particularly sure of himself (when was the last time he had been sure of himself?). I don't know who I am though, so I maybe I can't really say that he isn't me. It felt like it would be found true in the end: he was the ghost and the demon had been real all along.

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[Ahren de le Poer]

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indent Everything was absurd, really. Existence had been a random act, a chance collision of particles in the empty hole of space. The universe was growing still—though according to some theories, this meant one day it would shrink. One day time would reverse itself and all the wrongs of the world would be taken back. His son and daughter would live again, only to be erased, as he would in time. It was an abstract thought, but one that lay comfortably in his schema.

indentFlicking an ear back to the words, Ahren hesitated his response by again dragging deep on the tobacco. “The question of Being has remained with us all along,” he said quietly, listening to the wind. “He is a part of you; he is id, the primal urges within all of us. Neither he or you can stand alone.” This was said with certainty, as though Ahren had somehow known this all along.

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[Laruku Tears]

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It didn't matter. That was all it came to -- again. It was the only truth he had to hold on to and it was still a subjective one at best. People would believe that they would and the question of his own beliefs simply dwindled down to the previous conclusion. What were all of these words between them but meaningless breaths of air in the long run? They all suffered and died, that he had sinned more than others was irrelevant. He was irrelevant. Ire was irrelevant. Except that the hybrid had invested meaning into him, relevancy. So these details were important to all of three people: himself, the poor woman from a fallen pack, and the grey wolf that he could only hope would never be told.



And so he had nothing more to say to Ahren because none of it really mattered anyway. He didn't know what the other red-eyed creature derived his own meaning from so he had nothing to contribute. Laruku glanced down briefly at his book again, but any half-hearted interest he had had was already gone so he just stared up at the sky from between the crisscrossing branches of his maple tree.

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[Ahren de le Poer]

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indent Preaching would do nothing; Ahren knew that. He had known that above all else, having seen it from both of his parents. One saw the end of the world close at hand and the other imagined himself to be immortal. In the end, they both fell to his father’s hand. It was not fate, it was just something that happened. There was no reason to believe in fate; everything was as chaotic and beautiful as a musical composition or a car wreck.
indentSo they fell to silence, and Ahren found himself a stranger in a strange land. The earth did not change, but people did. Or, at the very least, he had failed to see people for what they were before and he had changed. It was a fundamental argument he could not win. Without another word, Ahren pushed off from the tree and began to walk away, leaving a faint trail of smoke in his wake.

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