I dare you {DJ Quest ft Shy Guy vs GG vs FBRD day 4}
Nov 20, 2018 19:02:25 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Nov 20, 2018 19:02:25 GMT -5
Quest Hertz
Now here we stand with their blood on our hands
We fought so hard, now can we understand
I'll break the seal of this curse if I possibly can
Now here we stand with their blood on our hands
We fought so hard, now can we understand
I'll break the seal of this curse if I possibly can
Waves crashed and broke below us. A cannon sounded in the midst of movement and it’s just another blast of noise; I couldn’t manage to care enough that there were only seventeen of us that remained. I was treated to the sounds of Fiona and her district partner chittering. Fiona pulling at scars and asking about home, the dangerous and foreign island that we’ll never seen again, even at our return (you can’t go home again, isn’t that what they say?). But the boy isn’t daggers and venom like his partner in crime. He starts on about what he misses, and asks for a promise – that Fiona explain herself for killing him. That he’s sorry, with crocodile tears, that he hurt her before. If only she could just forgive him – like any good man that does you bad, he only it did it out of love.
Well, fuck him.
Fuck any man that thought they could be forgiven for violence with words. That there had been no change in his actions, just his target. He would not change. Were I to die here and now, how long would it before Fiona was up against the long end of his spear? How much was friendship forged on a shifting foundation of his truth? Maybe I was caustic, or foul. But you couldn’t say that I didn’t say exactly what I mean, and doubly so for how I felt about anyone.
“Cool speech, asshole. Guess you get to choose who lives or dies. Must be nice thinking you get to play the hand of God.” I spat out, over the blood I could taste in my mouth, for him to hear.
It burns worse than any words could. Where was my fucking apology? Or was it just as it had been my whole life, I’d been measured up as not deserving one? Don’t pity me, the girl that threw herself into the lion’s den. But damn if it isn’t some shit that I had two kids tearing me limb from limb that I didn’t even know, only to hear a request for forgiveness from someone else. Don’t worry about me, I’m nothing. I don’t deserve love. I’m not worthy of love. I am impossible to love. So it was that I had not changed: a girl at the outskirts, more comfortable the further in shadow, and further from giving too much of herself away.
I wouldn’t begrudge Fiona for forgiveness. She has a whole heart that’s willing. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way. I’ve thought that behind a smile there is a motive. That the word love is tossed around like wooden nickles. Those that manage to prove themselves to me can share in someone that is loyal - look at Shy. But how many people are willing to take that risk? There’s no connection to the boy or the girl, and there never would have been one. They don’t know me, and won’t even after I’ve died.
The difference is that my feet do not shift in the pain of being on my own. I’ve liked who I am - warts and all. I don’t fit the mold as easy as Carmen, or Fiona. If the girl hitting me wasn’t talking to herself, I’d say we could’ve been friends. There’s a pain there that lives, but too distant now to know.
But she’s a fucking nightmare. Her anger caused her weapon to go wide and thump to the ground next to me. It was the same sort of loss that I saw in Faux just days before, a crumbling of spirit that was not ready for what it had to do. She mused that none of us would win - well, perhaps some of us weren’t all that serious about the crown. But she screamed about it loud enough that it was important - that this boy had to emerge victorious. What a spell he must’ve had to make her believe he was such a powerful being.
So come get me you fucken cowards - and you better hit hard, or you’ll regret it…
“That’s the thing…” I slithered out, breathing heavy and tasting the coppery taste of blood in my mouth. I gave a wicked grin and started my path forward. This would be my charge - for Shy, because he’d kept me on my own two feet (as broken they were). For Six - because I’m sentimental at the worst of times. And for Wilfred, because there is freedom in death that they could not take away. I pulled my weapon over my shoulder and prepared to pounce. “I’ve never regret a damn day in my life.”
I was fluid motion; I was strength in two small hands and heavy weapon. I closed my eyes and swung into the bitch’s chest.
“HNNNNNNNG!”
[Quest Hertz Attacks Auto with her Spiked Blunt]
*Through Fire and Flames by Dragonforce
Well, fuck him.
Fuck any man that thought they could be forgiven for violence with words. That there had been no change in his actions, just his target. He would not change. Were I to die here and now, how long would it before Fiona was up against the long end of his spear? How much was friendship forged on a shifting foundation of his truth? Maybe I was caustic, or foul. But you couldn’t say that I didn’t say exactly what I mean, and doubly so for how I felt about anyone.
“Cool speech, asshole. Guess you get to choose who lives or dies. Must be nice thinking you get to play the hand of God.” I spat out, over the blood I could taste in my mouth, for him to hear.
It burns worse than any words could. Where was my fucking apology? Or was it just as it had been my whole life, I’d been measured up as not deserving one? Don’t pity me, the girl that threw herself into the lion’s den. But damn if it isn’t some shit that I had two kids tearing me limb from limb that I didn’t even know, only to hear a request for forgiveness from someone else. Don’t worry about me, I’m nothing. I don’t deserve love. I’m not worthy of love. I am impossible to love. So it was that I had not changed: a girl at the outskirts, more comfortable the further in shadow, and further from giving too much of herself away.
I wouldn’t begrudge Fiona for forgiveness. She has a whole heart that’s willing. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way. I’ve thought that behind a smile there is a motive. That the word love is tossed around like wooden nickles. Those that manage to prove themselves to me can share in someone that is loyal - look at Shy. But how many people are willing to take that risk? There’s no connection to the boy or the girl, and there never would have been one. They don’t know me, and won’t even after I’ve died.
The difference is that my feet do not shift in the pain of being on my own. I’ve liked who I am - warts and all. I don’t fit the mold as easy as Carmen, or Fiona. If the girl hitting me wasn’t talking to herself, I’d say we could’ve been friends. There’s a pain there that lives, but too distant now to know.
But she’s a fucking nightmare. Her anger caused her weapon to go wide and thump to the ground next to me. It was the same sort of loss that I saw in Faux just days before, a crumbling of spirit that was not ready for what it had to do. She mused that none of us would win - well, perhaps some of us weren’t all that serious about the crown. But she screamed about it loud enough that it was important - that this boy had to emerge victorious. What a spell he must’ve had to make her believe he was such a powerful being.
So come get me you fucken cowards - and you better hit hard, or you’ll regret it…
“That’s the thing…” I slithered out, breathing heavy and tasting the coppery taste of blood in my mouth. I gave a wicked grin and started my path forward. This would be my charge - for Shy, because he’d kept me on my own two feet (as broken they were). For Six - because I’m sentimental at the worst of times. And for Wilfred, because there is freedom in death that they could not take away. I pulled my weapon over my shoulder and prepared to pounce. “I’ve never regret a damn day in my life.”
I was fluid motion; I was strength in two small hands and heavy weapon. I closed my eyes and swung into the bitch’s chest.
“HNNNNNNNG!”
[Quest Hertz Attacks Auto with her Spiked Blunt]
*Through Fire and Flames by Dragonforce
[result:14134 -- BROKEN RIB -- 7.0 damage (Spiked Blunt)]spiked blunt
[/a]
[/presto]
