divided we fall {CoS vs. Berserkers vs. SS Day 4}
Nov 7, 2017 16:02:08 GMT -5
Post by mat on Nov 7, 2017 16:02:08 GMT -5
[googlefont="Finger Paint:400"]
tobias staite
spear
tobias staite
we rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.
we rise; one wandering thought pollutes the day.
we feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,
embrace found woe, or cast our cares away.
we rise; one wandering thought pollutes the day.
we feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,
embrace found woe, or cast our cares away.
It’s truly unbelievable to see something or someone you’ve spent a significant amount of time with all of the sudden disappear. Like the speed of light or blink of an eye, everything that I lived and breathed for in the past few days turned into nothing within seconds.
At first, I do not notice what happens to Bruce. My eyes fixate on the two girls who swing their axes at me, their blades curving deeper and deeper into my skin. From my legs to my stomach to my arms, I see the torn skin release it’s all too familiar crimson reds.
I was never a fan of blood ever since the liquid typically found inside the body felt was neatly glossed around every corner of my dreams. It was the centerpiece of my consciousness. I saw it pool in Ezekiel’s bed, I saw it stain the sheets. I saw it turn him into an unfamiliar person.
I saw.. I saw..
”His head!”
I saw my everything turn to nothing. Through deja vu, I see it again.
The ivy cushioned Bruce’s head as it fell, but this moment was the most violent thing I’d seen in a long time. His head and neck detached, and a cannon blew.
I knew it was Bruce’s.
I look at the blood that practically pours from the sever lines, and suddenly, I don’t look at him the same anymore.
This morning- or whatever time it was right about two or so hours ago- I saw bravery, fearlessness. I saw the power and hunger for survival in his eyes, and I respected it. But now I see sorrow. Three days of fighting and courageousness, only to fall on the fourth day and receive nothing but painful death.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The words play on repeat as I hesitate for a moment.
Do I stop fighting? Do I give up to go mourn him?
I feel the tears once more begin to pocket under my eyes.
”BRUCE!”
He’d want me to keep fighting. Bruce Clayton would want Zagreus and I to survive.
I let my scream for him count as mourning for now, but I realize that I need to fight.
Fight for Bruce. Fight for Ella.
Fight for myself. Fight for my happinessif there’s any left.
I stab my spear at the nearest entity aside from Zagreus, and it just so happens to be the girl who scraped skin off of my body last.
Keep fighting, Tobias Staite.
Your dance of Ring Around The Rosie is not finished yet.
[tobias attacks mariela; javelin-turned-spear (spear)]
r8dsWbMMspear
3051 -- Shallow Cut on Chest -- 4.0 damage
At first, I do not notice what happens to Bruce. My eyes fixate on the two girls who swing their axes at me, their blades curving deeper and deeper into my skin. From my legs to my stomach to my arms, I see the torn skin release it’s all too familiar crimson reds.
I was never a fan of blood ever since the liquid typically found inside the body felt was neatly glossed around every corner of my dreams. It was the centerpiece of my consciousness. I saw it pool in Ezekiel’s bed, I saw it stain the sheets. I saw it turn him into an unfamiliar person.
I saw.. I saw..
”His head!”
I saw my everything turn to nothing. Through deja vu, I see it again.
The ivy cushioned Bruce’s head as it fell, but this moment was the most violent thing I’d seen in a long time. His head and neck detached, and a cannon blew.
I knew it was Bruce’s.
I look at the blood that practically pours from the sever lines, and suddenly, I don’t look at him the same anymore.
This morning- or whatever time it was right about two or so hours ago- I saw bravery, fearlessness. I saw the power and hunger for survival in his eyes, and I respected it. But now I see sorrow. Three days of fighting and courageousness, only to fall on the fourth day and receive nothing but painful death.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The words play on repeat as I hesitate for a moment.
Do I stop fighting? Do I give up to go mourn him?
I feel the tears once more begin to pocket under my eyes.
”BRUCE!”
He’d want me to keep fighting. Bruce Clayton would want Zagreus and I to survive.
I let my scream for him count as mourning for now, but I realize that I need to fight.
Fight for Bruce. Fight for Ella.
Fight for myself. Fight for my happiness
I stab my spear at the nearest entity aside from Zagreus, and it just so happens to be the girl who scraped skin off of my body last.
Keep fighting, Tobias Staite.
Your dance of Ring Around The Rosie is not finished yet.
[tobias attacks mariela; javelin-turned-spear (spear)]
r8dsWbMMspear
3051 -- Shallow Cut on Chest -- 4.0 damage
spear