| Outcast atk: 8.0 | def: 10 | dam: 3.5 |
| Colt :: Pegasus :: 14.1 :: Three HP: 67 | Buff: NOVICE |
| charks |
Zèklè What if we run like the wind
Feet are chasing moonlight So... can Gods be wrong? Because you're pretty sure the Earth God is, well... kinda full of shit.
You listen, you really do try, but nothing seems to hit home. The God shows you images, tells you stories, talks about leaves and trees and sunlight- but this isn't leaves, it isn't plants, it's you and him and his daughter, and you begin to squirm uneasily as the Earth, in your eyes, dodges your questions, your line of concern. Doesn't he care that Isopia had killed her baby? That she, the Mountain that Knew, had been so hurt and bent and twisted and shattered she'd decided to forsake what mattered to her most and forget?
To be completely honest, you don't care about leaves. The whole thing, which might have fascinated you on another day, just leaves you somewhat lost and bewildered. "Yes!" you blurt as his story concludes, frustration and confusion painting your voice with a vivid candor. "I mean, no- I mean-" You did overlook me is the thought you cannot say. You overlooked me when I was young and asked for help, and maybe if you hadn't then none of this would have happened. But the God isn't responsible for that. There are a million voices clamouring for his attention, and yours is small, malformed, unimportant. You are nothing to him. You know this.
But Isopia? She is everything.
You inhale deeply and try again to plead with a mind greater than anything you could comprehend. "Maybe I was s'posed to be this way, but Iso... she got her memory erased. She doesn't even remember. How is that right? She got hurt so bad, an' you're her Da. You're s'posed to protect her-" but you know this isn't true, either, because parents can't protect you. Nobody can. Shit happens, and you're left to manage it, to pick up the pieces with the people who remain.
People like you, except how are you supposed to help? You can't even fly.
You stare at the ground, at the little onyx horse you made for the God, the symbol of so much promise. You used to have so much faith in the world- where did it all go? "I don't think I'm particularly strong," you confess at last, your downturned eyes hidden beneath furrowed brows. "Maybe a Mason knows how to be strong, but I don't even know how to be a Mason... and now my Ma's mad at me, and I'm leaving my family behind, and if I can't help Isopia then what's the point? What good am I, if I just let everybody down?"
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@Mythical Request
Sulky Zero will not be cheered :|
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[P] rivers and roads [Earth]
