manny {snowspire} d10 :: fin
Nov 18, 2022 19:05:22 GMT -5
Post by rook on Nov 18, 2022 19:05:22 GMT -5
manny
The ten month winter would cripple most men, but you were born in the storm. You're the iceman.
For as long as your young mind can recall, you've been fast. It's been that way forever. To you, everyone else is unbearably slow. Slow and boring and safe. You've been ahead for so long that you've stopped looking over your shoulder. All you really have is what's ahead - the unknown boundary of your potential, and if you can push through it.
This race you run, it's only with yourself now.
You can't feel your hands, you can't feel your nose. Only a burning in your chest and throat spare you from complete sensory deprivation under the mountains cruel winds. Ugly stone faces carved in the rock watch on as you push through the snow and the storm, head always up, eyes always ahead, into the white oblivion.
You are reckless to be out here, the taste of danger sweet on your tongue. There's a phantom smile drifting on your pale lips as the ground shifts, loose beneath your feet. For just a moment you lose balance, and you are flying, falling, without control. It's wonderful. You're free. You're alive. And then all too suddenly your feet find the ground once more, and you're back on this mountain. Just as you've always been. Just as you always will be.
Your eyes hover on the pale horizon. The big what if. If anyone can, you can. It's the final poke of the bear, the last gambit you have to play, the rebellious teens final rebellion. You'd do it. You really would, if you thought you could leave any of this behind. Or her behind.
You know what it's like to be so certain of a decision, to be absolutely sure that your making the right call, only to bask in the regret of your biggest mistake, and you now have to face that mistake every day. You avoid it, ignore it, but you can't escape it. Novah's the one thing you can't run from.
You've felt the punch of someone moving on. You've never done anything half heartedly, not anything you've cared about. Your hole puncher heart could withstand being without her, hell you thought that's what you wanted, precisely because you don't work in half-measures, and you had doubts - but seeing her not care anymore? That breaks you in ways you couldn't possibly have comprehended.
The kind of love you held for her won't ever fade or leave you. It's there. It's always there. You're trying to find ways to move on, to accept what is. But in the cold nights you long for her warm arms around your body, and the sweet words she'd usher to comfort you. That's gone, you chose to end it, and when you hear her laugh in the halls, or see her fingers tracing someone else's palm - you die a little death.
You tell yourself you're used to it by now, wearing your arrogance as armour, sneers masking the grimaces, but you know the truth. You're not the same. Not anymore.
You look to the boundary and your wonderings become wanderings.
But you've got to be careful.
If you keep searching for the edge, one day you might just find it.
For as long as your young mind can recall, you've been fast. It's been that way forever. To you, everyone else is unbearably slow. Slow and boring and safe. You've been ahead for so long that you've stopped looking over your shoulder. All you really have is what's ahead - the unknown boundary of your potential, and if you can push through it.
This race you run, it's only with yourself now.
You can't feel your hands, you can't feel your nose. Only a burning in your chest and throat spare you from complete sensory deprivation under the mountains cruel winds. Ugly stone faces carved in the rock watch on as you push through the snow and the storm, head always up, eyes always ahead, into the white oblivion.
You are reckless to be out here, the taste of danger sweet on your tongue. There's a phantom smile drifting on your pale lips as the ground shifts, loose beneath your feet. For just a moment you lose balance, and you are flying, falling, without control. It's wonderful. You're free. You're alive. And then all too suddenly your feet find the ground once more, and you're back on this mountain. Just as you've always been. Just as you always will be.
Your eyes hover on the pale horizon. The big what if. If anyone can, you can. It's the final poke of the bear, the last gambit you have to play, the rebellious teens final rebellion. You'd do it. You really would, if you thought you could leave any of this behind. Or her behind.
You know what it's like to be so certain of a decision, to be absolutely sure that your making the right call, only to bask in the regret of your biggest mistake, and you now have to face that mistake every day. You avoid it, ignore it, but you can't escape it. Novah's the one thing you can't run from.
You've felt the punch of someone moving on. You've never done anything half heartedly, not anything you've cared about. Your hole puncher heart could withstand being without her, hell you thought that's what you wanted, precisely because you don't work in half-measures, and you had doubts - but seeing her not care anymore? That breaks you in ways you couldn't possibly have comprehended.
The kind of love you held for her won't ever fade or leave you. It's there. It's always there. You're trying to find ways to move on, to accept what is. But in the cold nights you long for her warm arms around your body, and the sweet words she'd usher to comfort you. That's gone, you chose to end it, and when you hear her laugh in the halls, or see her fingers tracing someone else's palm - you die a little death.
You tell yourself you're used to it by now, wearing your arrogance as armour, sneers masking the grimaces, but you know the truth. You're not the same. Not anymore.
You look to the boundary and your wonderings become wanderings.
But you've got to be careful.
If you keep searching for the edge, one day you might just find it.
