.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
07-15-2013, 06:16 PM
I do not know why I feel the need to prove my affliction, if one can call it that. It would be clear to anyone that there is more at work in my mind than simple thought and response; no, I would say that it is obvious that I see what is not there to everyone else. I must admit that I do not see my particular form of insanity as a problem - in fact, I almost pity those that cannot see as I do. Why would I want to give up the beautiful colours that array themselves so elegantly across my vision? Why wouldn't I want to see the rainbow that exists in everyday life? Would I give up the spirits? Perhaps. But they, too, serve their own purpose, and though I am at times afraid of their meaning, I do not see the point of a life without them. Perhaps, one day, I will come to know the nature of Seele's diseased mind, but for now her disorder remains elusive. She smirks at me, though, and mentions the penalty of death for any who would desert her. What she does not know is that I would not dare leave her side once I earn my place there, but I cannot say as much to her. Instead, I seek to prove myself. Placing a cool smile upon my own face and eliciting another fit of crimson from Unheil's form, I say, "A fitting home for the deranged, I daresay." I am not afraid of the dead - or at least not their bodies. No, I carry my own ghosts. My closet full of skeletons resides inside my mind, frequenting my vision in a brilliant display of colours. She turns from me, her tail brushing against her legs. The orange-red of her lyrics fades from view, though the swish of hair against her hocks brings forward a faint hint of it once more. Hoofbeats, though muffled, show as dull brown beats; they double when my own add to hers. I follow her from the forest of the Threshold, counting my blessings for finding her so quickly, but also lamenting the fact that I cannot reveal the truth. Unheil's crimson and Liebling's blue follow me, interlacing strikes in addition to the brown. Ah, my prism. How would I survive without you? "Talk talk talk." 391 words @[tag] |
