laurel rasoio {d8} fin

d4 tati pelotte [azalea] Advertiser 2,113 POSTS last seen Jan 22, 2024 14:18:32 GMT -5	laurel rasoio {d8} fin Dec 15, 2016 15:35:12 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by d4 tati pelotte [azalea] on Dec 15, 2016 15:35:12 GMT -5 Laurel Rasoio district eight sixteen
	Last Edit: Dec 18, 2016 12:05:36 GMT -5 by d4 tati pelotte [azalea]

d4 tati pelotte [azalea]
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laurel rasoio {d8} fin Dec 15, 2016 15:47:12 GMT -5

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Post by d4 tati pelotte [azalea] on Dec 15, 2016 15:47:12 GMT -5

Amber eyes are my escape. Like a gold tornado in a late summer evening, they turn left to right, right to left because I am no stranger to the concept of blinking and missing. My hair rolls past my shoulders like how you turn the page of a book; but it is dark like the black leather cover of a teenage diary, thick and knotted like thieves trying too hard to cut through the night.

But my lips are cold like my fingertips, and in the winter I find myself looking more ghostly than human. But a solid ghost—one built from luxuries by the luxurious.

Because we are old before our time. We are a hallway of painted faces who disguise evil with reason, staring blankly out of ornate golden frames. As if we are taken from a different life where time didn't matter and status was the topic of stories. We sit still in a world of motion and when the light comes in, we fade.

Perhaps these are the consequences for living life in the fast lane. Whether it's a blink, a tick, a tock, a swipe—it's enough time to witness the fall of an entire religion. And though I'm just like the rest of them (pride in my razors and bloodline) there is a scepticism festering at the light like mites. Forever in love with the idea of something or someone being above to give meaning, purpose, but failing to accept that a power so strong could not stop a heart from breaking.

A brother sinned is a brother who is gone—it's the price paid for performing the unforgivable. But I am caught between the two halves of this broken heart, hopelessly trying to make amends before the light returns, and robs the world of truth.

I'm certain that I can make people see how things really are. Because reality is all around us, and a romance with Ripred leads to blindness. I could do it within the snap of my fingers, a tick, a tock, and I'm sure of it.

Their embarrassment is my ecstasy.

But if everything can happen so fast, like the fall of a religion, like the death of brother, like age, then I can't keep getting caught up in the possibilities. Consequences are not certainties, and last time, I froze in the fire. There was a chance to stand up and educate but I found myself mute with my knees tucked into my chest. Does that make me as bad as my brother?

The stars are the only listeners to my thoughts, to my questions, to my confusion. They don't have any advice, and so I feel lost in my own mind.

I'm lost, but I don't need to be found. I have to find myself through the means available to me. And I pledge not to confuse people in my mix, because I have to handle myself before anyone falls in love with my confusion.

I am just tired of having dry my eyes and keep my chin every time there is a let down. I have been told a hundred and twenty-seven times that life is in the hands of a greater power, a higher spirit. There is a comfort in that, in having justification for the sad times and bad times because it forces a person to move on. But I question it; if this religion is set to save us from sins—why was Jenoah forced to kill?

A pretty boy with a sharp tongue and even sharper eyes. Placing his life on a pedestal and forgetting it was glass—in all honesty, I'm not sure why I was surprised when his gentle prayers amounted to nothing more than a slow, cold death. Bitter and cruel, I figure that Ripred cannot exist.

Ripred does not exist.

Violence contradicts omnibenevolence, stone cold murder contradicts the bare bones of religion.

I suppose it's a given for me to oppose the norm. It's sewn into my fibres, illegality is what makes me the person I am. The Rasoio family is one of felony and fault. Slipping between dark handshakes and buildings to operate in substances and code. The outsiders think we don't have any secrets; it's all hidden beneath the walls of a seemingly normal factory. But peel back the layers of crumbling paint and boarded windows, they would find that we are the unholy holy.

A family who wear hats trimmed with razors are lost souls. It's all that we have ever come to be; monsters who find guidance in acts of cruelty. My father bestowed his knowledge unto us from a young age—we were taught to never be underestimated or to underestimate. Dad learnt it himself from a young age, following the wrong instincts to get himself caught in a web. Exit was not physical, it was emotional. The only way out was an unconditional need for approval.

He has been through it all now, passed his blood into my veins. I feel the same imposing fear of failure, I feel the weight that comes with being a disappointment.

I have delved into alleyways merely to impress. Feet pitter-pattering along the cement in an eerie fashion. Whispers come with the wind, and I tell myself that a blank face is the best option. Being read wrongly is a fear, so I leave all morals and emotion behind when the shadows consume me and I participate in family business.

I remember meeting my eyes with theirs before looking down again. There was a rise in the feeling of power, and joy shortly followed. Fear flickered like a candle starved of air but it was strangely addicting. Because what followed was the passion. I realised I was not driven by joy or fear, only the adrenaline which came with influencing the worsening spiral of violence.

Believing in a faith seems stupid now, because religion is just mind control. If I'd have blinked, I would have missed it. Crime is my new comfort, and I get it now.

I see it. I'm just as bad as Jenoah, but I'm not going to freeze in the fire anymore. I'm going to find myself, find my place and burn.

Last Edit: Dec 18, 2016 12:14:47 GMT -5 by d4 tati pelotte [azalea]

d4 tati pelotte [azalea] Advertiser 2,113 POSTS last seen Jan 22, 2024 14:18:32 GMT -5	laurel rasoio {d8} fin Dec 18, 2016 12:07:37 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by d4 tati pelotte [azalea] on Dec 18, 2016 12:07:37 GMT -5 Hopefully she's complete!

ghosty Mentor 2,134 POSTS Pronouns: he/him last seen Dec 5, 2022 12:52:02 GMT -5	laurel rasoio {d8} fin Dec 18, 2016 12:15:04 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ghosty on Dec 18, 2016 12:15:04 GMT -5 omg omg give me your skills