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09-07-2016, 07:10 PM
Receive the erased memories
And broken heart on the palm of my hand.
And broken heart on the palm of my hand.
I was born a meek child.
Words found themselves caught in my throat more often than not. I had no friends to speak of, and I clung to the side of my mother like an extra set of appendages. My parents had worried about my development before their untimely demise. The quiet child, saved only by the cold glare and steady words of my mother, the last thing she ever said to me, grew even more solitary. I wandered, an orphan amid a land still bright and flourishing despite the evident war plaguing the lands.
In the crowd, the sea of unfamiliar faces, I had met her. She spoke to me first, despite looking in my direction with sightless eyes. The meek child grew quickly into a man, having a purpose of life, a direction in which to begin.
Aelfwine, of course, knows nothing of this truth in my past. Her words, intending to berate me for my lost hope, my lost passion, to place the blame upon me for my current situation are heard, but not taken seriously. I find it very difficult to take to heart the advice given without understanding my motivations, my history. My hooves do not slow their steady amble away from her, delving further and further into the mirror of the sky. There is no flinch, no wound stricken across my frame as she attempts to throw verbal daggers into my back as I leave.
When she finally clamps her mouth shut, a process which apparently takes this particular wench quite some time to complete, I turn my head to look back at her. My expression is flat, unmoved by her verbal assault or poor attempt to give advice. My lips upturn, another callous smile, as I look at her. Her body fumes with frustration evident even from here, and I think I like her pissed off more than when she first appeared, chirpy and bright.
I make a decision, one I cannot quite explain. Maybe, I cannot stand the thought of losing an argument, or maybe I felt that she deserved some piece of information for all her efforts.
I don't know.
"She is already dead," I say, loud enough to carry the distance between us. The tone is matter-of-fact, clinical and detached. The smile doesn't waver, staying in place even after I gave a small insight into my heart. "Happiness is no longer an option." With that, I turn back around, gaining speeding and unfurling my wings. I begin to lift myself in the sky, for I know it is a place this chattering girl cannot follow. My next destination is uncertain, the only thing decided is that it will be far from her.
ooc -- Ryouta is out. Ty for the lovely thread, Skylark<3
Words found themselves caught in my throat more often than not. I had no friends to speak of, and I clung to the side of my mother like an extra set of appendages. My parents had worried about my development before their untimely demise. The quiet child, saved only by the cold glare and steady words of my mother, the last thing she ever said to me, grew even more solitary. I wandered, an orphan amid a land still bright and flourishing despite the evident war plaguing the lands.
In the crowd, the sea of unfamiliar faces, I had met her. She spoke to me first, despite looking in my direction with sightless eyes. The meek child grew quickly into a man, having a purpose of life, a direction in which to begin.
Aelfwine, of course, knows nothing of this truth in my past. Her words, intending to berate me for my lost hope, my lost passion, to place the blame upon me for my current situation are heard, but not taken seriously. I find it very difficult to take to heart the advice given without understanding my motivations, my history. My hooves do not slow their steady amble away from her, delving further and further into the mirror of the sky. There is no flinch, no wound stricken across my frame as she attempts to throw verbal daggers into my back as I leave.
When she finally clamps her mouth shut, a process which apparently takes this particular wench quite some time to complete, I turn my head to look back at her. My expression is flat, unmoved by her verbal assault or poor attempt to give advice. My lips upturn, another callous smile, as I look at her. Her body fumes with frustration evident even from here, and I think I like her pissed off more than when she first appeared, chirpy and bright.
I make a decision, one I cannot quite explain. Maybe, I cannot stand the thought of losing an argument, or maybe I felt that she deserved some piece of information for all her efforts.
I don't know.
"She is already dead," I say, loud enough to carry the distance between us. The tone is matter-of-fact, clinical and detached. The smile doesn't waver, staying in place even after I gave a small insight into my heart. "Happiness is no longer an option." With that, I turn back around, gaining speeding and unfurling my wings. I begin to lift myself in the sky, for I know it is a place this chattering girl cannot follow. My next destination is uncertain, the only thing decided is that it will be far from her.
ooc -- Ryouta is out. Ty for the lovely thread, Skylark<3
良克
RYOUTA
@Aelfwine
