sinners play as saints [di vs dt]
Oct 21, 2017 21:34:12 GMT -5
Post by kousei ♚ on Oct 21, 2017 21:34:12 GMT -5
► ► ►
Scatter my humanity across the stars; the sky has become a canvas for shades of red. I've dipped my hands in this bittersweet river of our family tree and tarnished my white wings in darkened shades of red, a red nebula drips from the edge of my wooden stake, one hand clutching my side as my feet drag along the the dirt and my other hand whitens at the iron grip around my weapon.
Killer -- she falls to the ground like the pillars that held my stable sanity upright, a red star system spilling from her face as her back hit the ground for the first and final time and I became something despicable in the withering shadow of my fragile humanity, I don't know if I truly expected it to stay.
Something despicable in the eyes of the sane and the powerful.
She meant something.
A forest fire burns upon the surface of my skin and my heart a supernova; yet I'm so cold. Here I am, giving pieces of myself for organs that function for the sake of man less than human because at eighteen years old I feel more comfortable in the presence of a dead mean than the warm breath of the living. Eighteen years old and I need to stare into the photographic eyes of a murderer just so I can remember what it meant to be loved, I still need to touch the corner of that picture periodically to keep the pillars supporting my sanity from collapsing.
They ran from me, the boy from One and girl who broke my ribs and I hefted my spear in the biting heat of the moment. Remembering that I am his son, that there wasn't a noose around my neck and trapdoor beneath my feet. Nothing to stop me thrusting the point of my weapon forwards into that girl's back, piercing the back of her neck and out the other end and watching another crimson universe fall from her trembling flesh because that's just how I move and that's just what I should see.
Yet when the moments of temporary madness fade and sanity resumed I saw Serena on the ground with my red signature carved into her face I knew that the taste of the first kill was bitter, not sweet. Yet I never dared to apologize, killing the baseless word laced with hypocrisy before they could see the shadows of the night.
Now the sky is a canvas, scattered with the remains of my humanity, crossed with the remnants of my decency and crushed beneath the judgement of the fallen.
Yet I don't know what's heavier, the weight of two wounds carved across my body in bloody vengeance or the weight of two heartbeats thrown across my shoulders like the sky. Every breath taken was once taken for two people, Doctor Khiev and myself, now they've been snatched by the girl from three and my one piece of home I severed with a single thrust of a spear.
I move with in synchronization with my allies, matching step with step and wondering if they look at me with the common question from home written on their tongues.
("Does the rotten apple fall from the rotten tree?")
Eighteen years I build this hidden halo over my head, two minutes and two spear thrusts I took to shatter it. Now a common riddle comes with a simple answer and I do not dare to confirm what the men and women from home already know.
We move in the direction of lights, hoping to find something worth salvaging and when we come across a hollow tree, Sirrah and Alfie return with items. "Must be something in there," I mutter, timidly putting my hand into the tree and feeling for something; a weapon, a sign, an escape route.
Yet I find nothing, only eighteen year's worth decay.
We rest against the tall trees that night, beneath phantoms from the Capitol. And I don't look up to find the two faces matched to the two cannons, I only look down at the bitter nectar that coats my hands and tremble. "I'm not going to sleep; I'll take the first watch." I tell them, biting my lip and not daring to look up from the ground. I will not admire the sight of the humanity buried within the stars and hidden behind dark clouds.
Instead, my heads close around him and pull him from my pocket. A paper kingdom, stained and charred, and I stare into his dark eyes and let my thumb brush across his dark hair. I almost forget who he was, sometimes, but never the way he made me feel -- ("psychopathic murderer with no remorse.") My mother's voice is the cold gale of the ice tundra within my veins, cold biting and my nerves and reality wrapping around my heart.
The rotten apple does fall from the rotten tree after all.
"What do I do?" I pose the question no louder than a whisper as a fallen fennel tattoos itself across my vision. A sinner's shadow looming over mine.
I get no answer, only that fallen fennel.
"Look away, all of you!” Daniela's voice breaks my chain of thought and I look up to find her clutching a dress, a change of clothes. My cheeks instantly flush red.
"I'm, er, I'm going." I say, turning and walking in the other direction.
We wake to the sound of thunder in the distance, a burning kingdom in the back of my mind.
We find our way from the maze of tall trees and into the heart of serenity. I glance at a lake, sharp unease quickly taking over at the full moon in the distance. "Guys I really don't like this place," I say to them, letting my footsteps slow down to a soft halt. Chills roll down my back and I'm uneasy, despite the promise of hydration and the soft respite from the metallic ache in my leg and rib cage.
One foot in the grave, the shadows of seven horsemen circling -- I don't belong here. He does.
I wonder if Doctor Khiev saw a fallen fennel too.
I freeze, footsteps four new pairs of footstep quickly setting my frozen heartbeat to scattered intervals and an untouchable velocity. I recognize those faces; I saw them with the dead girls, blood soaking the sand and silver steel glinting beneath the sky. I remember the boy from seven, cut from a stronger stone than me with a ten tattooed across his chest and the weapon of a titan in his grasp.
I'm not a titan with the a double digit world on his shoulders.
I let my thumb brush against the corner of father's ear and step forwards. "No one just walks away from each other here."
Teddy please -- "It's either you or them."
I scatter humanity with my blood.
Killer -- she falls to the ground like the pillars that held my stable sanity upright, a red star system spilling from her face as her back hit the ground for the first and final time and I became something despicable in the withering shadow of my fragile humanity, I don't know if I truly expected it to stay.
Something despicable in the eyes of the sane and the powerful.
(Fuck, fuck, fuck)
She meant something.
A forest fire burns upon the surface of my skin and my heart a supernova; yet I'm so cold. Here I am, giving pieces of myself for organs that function for the sake of man less than human because at eighteen years old I feel more comfortable in the presence of a dead mean than the warm breath of the living. Eighteen years old and I need to stare into the photographic eyes of a murderer just so I can remember what it meant to be loved, I still need to touch the corner of that picture periodically to keep the pillars supporting my sanity from collapsing.
They ran from me, the boy from One and girl who broke my ribs and I hefted my spear in the biting heat of the moment. Remembering that I am his son, that there wasn't a noose around my neck and trapdoor beneath my feet. Nothing to stop me thrusting the point of my weapon forwards into that girl's back, piercing the back of her neck and out the other end and watching another crimson universe fall from her trembling flesh because that's just how I move and that's just what I should see.
Yet when the moments of temporary madness fade and sanity resumed I saw Serena on the ground with my red signature carved into her face I knew that the taste of the first kill was bitter, not sweet. Yet I never dared to apologize, killing the baseless word laced with hypocrisy before they could see the shadows of the night.
Now the sky is a canvas, scattered with the remains of my humanity, crossed with the remnants of my decency and crushed beneath the judgement of the fallen.
Yet I don't know what's heavier, the weight of two wounds carved across my body in bloody vengeance or the weight of two heartbeats thrown across my shoulders like the sky. Every breath taken was once taken for two people, Doctor Khiev and myself, now they've been snatched by the girl from three and my one piece of home I severed with a single thrust of a spear.
I move with in synchronization with my allies, matching step with step and wondering if they look at me with the common question from home written on their tongues.
("Does the rotten apple fall from the rotten tree?")
Eighteen years I build this hidden halo over my head, two minutes and two spear thrusts I took to shatter it. Now a common riddle comes with a simple answer and I do not dare to confirm what the men and women from home already know.
We move in the direction of lights, hoping to find something worth salvaging and when we come across a hollow tree, Sirrah and Alfie return with items. "Must be something in there," I mutter, timidly putting my hand into the tree and feeling for something; a weapon, a sign, an escape route.
Yet I find nothing, only eighteen year's worth decay.
We rest against the tall trees that night, beneath phantoms from the Capitol. And I don't look up to find the two faces matched to the two cannons, I only look down at the bitter nectar that coats my hands and tremble. "I'm not going to sleep; I'll take the first watch." I tell them, biting my lip and not daring to look up from the ground. I will not admire the sight of the humanity buried within the stars and hidden behind dark clouds.
Instead, my heads close around him and pull him from my pocket. A paper kingdom, stained and charred, and I stare into his dark eyes and let my thumb brush across his dark hair. I almost forget who he was, sometimes, but never the way he made me feel -- ("psychopathic murderer with no remorse.") My mother's voice is the cold gale of the ice tundra within my veins, cold biting and my nerves and reality wrapping around my heart.
The rotten apple does fall from the rotten tree after all.
"What do I do?" I pose the question no louder than a whisper as a fallen fennel tattoos itself across my vision. A sinner's shadow looming over mine.
I get no answer, only that fallen fennel.
"Look away, all of you!” Daniela's voice breaks my chain of thought and I look up to find her clutching a dress, a change of clothes. My cheeks instantly flush red.
"I'm, er, I'm going." I say, turning and walking in the other direction.
We wake to the sound of thunder in the distance, a burning kingdom in the back of my mind.
We find our way from the maze of tall trees and into the heart of serenity. I glance at a lake, sharp unease quickly taking over at the full moon in the distance. "Guys I really don't like this place," I say to them, letting my footsteps slow down to a soft halt. Chills roll down my back and I'm uneasy, despite the promise of hydration and the soft respite from the metallic ache in my leg and rib cage.
One foot in the grave, the shadows of seven horsemen circling -- I don't belong here. He does.
I wonder if Doctor Khiev saw a fallen fennel too.
I freeze, footsteps four new pairs of footstep quickly setting my frozen heartbeat to scattered intervals and an untouchable velocity. I recognize those faces; I saw them with the dead girls, blood soaking the sand and silver steel glinting beneath the sky. I remember the boy from seven, cut from a stronger stone than me with a ten tattooed across his chest and the weapon of a titan in his grasp.
I'm not a titan with the a double digit world on his shoulders.
I let my thumb brush against the corner of father's ear and step forwards. "No one just walks away from each other here."
Teddy please -- "It's either you or them."
I scatter humanity with my blood.
[ansel khiev attacks quillon blackfare; spear]
uli7tcxwspear
[3101 -- Block -- 0.0 damage]
Accuracy, Day 2
spear
[gdi mate]
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