.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
07-12-2016, 08:05 PM
良克
Ryouta
Unnerving.
That is what I think of the ghost stallion and his snake, who waltzes away from the group just as cavalierly as he strode in. His words do not bother me, but the amusement at my suffering seems to crawl under my skin and eke out some sort of visceral distaste. The delighted tone in his voice, the ugly glint of black scales in his mane. A strange fellow and one that I am happy to abandon the company of at this point.
"Yoi ichinichi o," I say in a dry, sarcastic tone as the white ass retreats, his figure slipping into the shadows of the trees and beyond my fuzzy vision.
My head begins to droop, for the weight upon my shoulders grows heavy in exhaustion. Part of me wants the pair to revoke their offers, so that I can quietly lay by a tree until my wracking breath ceases. I said before death is not coming to me that easily, though. Every time my eyes close, every time my mind wanders, a familiar face jerks my body back to attention. A chain from my past dragging me forward, pulling on the guilt strapped heavily across broad shoulders. Every moment, every day, driving me on unwilling hooves toward nothingness.
At the end of the road, oblivion waited in expectant silence.
Flickering forward, my ears try to listen while my body shivers, and I cannot help but feel judgment piled behind the soft voice of the woman. I am no longer willing to feel anger burning in my stomach, but I hate being judged by strangers. I know nothing of her, nothing of her past, and she none of mine. In yet, I feel the edge of swords gleaming behind those turquoise eyes. "Iya," I whisper under my breath, listening to the offer to return with her to the World's Edge. If you don't find it to your liking.
"It won't be." The sentence is flat, definitive, and I look at her with my mismatched eyes cold as ice. "Or were you not listening, yariman?" The meaning may not be understood, but my tone, despite the dehydration evident on my throat, is unmistakenably irritated. The girl doesn't deserve to face the brunt of my attitude, for she is trying to help. However, if you know anything about me at this point, it should be fairly evident I don't give a fuck what you deserve.
The stallion with the flimsy horn speaks again, mentioning the Unbound, which I assume is the group he referred to earlier. Easy to garner information from, this Ashamin.
Strange fate had landed me in the arms of kind strangers today. I almost feel sorry for my miserable attitude, my lack of appreciation, but I can't. Acting as though I am a spoiled brat, getting my way, regardless of the effect on others. I feel no entitlement to their offers, and, to be frank, I am surprised they did not kick my ass already. Pity for the dying must extend kindness quite a bit.
"I appreciate it, Lyanna-," I don't, "-but I am going to decline." Having healers delivered to me sounds a lot easier than going wherever the World's Edge is. Were I my old self, I might have dreamt of seeing a place with such an intriguing name. Instead, I feel no urge, no desire, to find out why it was named such.
I turn my head toward Ashamin, feeling lightheaded and distant, and my eyes soften for the first time since their arrival. For a shining moment, I resemble my younger self. Only a moment. "Water," is all I say, hoping the meaning is translated quite clearly.
""
Yoi ichinichi o = have a good day
yariman = bimbo
That is what I think of the ghost stallion and his snake, who waltzes away from the group just as cavalierly as he strode in. His words do not bother me, but the amusement at my suffering seems to crawl under my skin and eke out some sort of visceral distaste. The delighted tone in his voice, the ugly glint of black scales in his mane. A strange fellow and one that I am happy to abandon the company of at this point.
"Yoi ichinichi o," I say in a dry, sarcastic tone as the white ass retreats, his figure slipping into the shadows of the trees and beyond my fuzzy vision.
My head begins to droop, for the weight upon my shoulders grows heavy in exhaustion. Part of me wants the pair to revoke their offers, so that I can quietly lay by a tree until my wracking breath ceases. I said before death is not coming to me that easily, though. Every time my eyes close, every time my mind wanders, a familiar face jerks my body back to attention. A chain from my past dragging me forward, pulling on the guilt strapped heavily across broad shoulders. Every moment, every day, driving me on unwilling hooves toward nothingness.
At the end of the road, oblivion waited in expectant silence.
Flickering forward, my ears try to listen while my body shivers, and I cannot help but feel judgment piled behind the soft voice of the woman. I am no longer willing to feel anger burning in my stomach, but I hate being judged by strangers. I know nothing of her, nothing of her past, and she none of mine. In yet, I feel the edge of swords gleaming behind those turquoise eyes. "Iya," I whisper under my breath, listening to the offer to return with her to the World's Edge. If you don't find it to your liking.
"It won't be." The sentence is flat, definitive, and I look at her with my mismatched eyes cold as ice. "Or were you not listening, yariman?" The meaning may not be understood, but my tone, despite the dehydration evident on my throat, is unmistakenably irritated. The girl doesn't deserve to face the brunt of my attitude, for she is trying to help. However, if you know anything about me at this point, it should be fairly evident I don't give a fuck what you deserve.
The stallion with the flimsy horn speaks again, mentioning the Unbound, which I assume is the group he referred to earlier. Easy to garner information from, this Ashamin.
Strange fate had landed me in the arms of kind strangers today. I almost feel sorry for my miserable attitude, my lack of appreciation, but I can't. Acting as though I am a spoiled brat, getting my way, regardless of the effect on others. I feel no entitlement to their offers, and, to be frank, I am surprised they did not kick my ass already. Pity for the dying must extend kindness quite a bit.
"I appreciate it, Lyanna-," I don't, "-but I am going to decline." Having healers delivered to me sounds a lot easier than going wherever the World's Edge is. Were I my old self, I might have dreamt of seeing a place with such an intriguing name. Instead, I feel no urge, no desire, to find out why it was named such.
I turn my head toward Ashamin, feeling lightheaded and distant, and my eyes soften for the first time since their arrival. For a shining moment, I resemble my younger self. Only a moment. "Water," is all I say, hoping the meaning is translated quite clearly.
""
Yoi ichinichi o = have a good day
yariman = bimbo
誰がこの心のために殺されことを非難するのですか
Dare ga kono kokoro no tame ni korosa re koto o hinan suru nodesu ka?
