the ferryman has come | day 5 fight
Mar 29, 2019 15:16:14 GMT -5
Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Mar 29, 2019 15:16:14 GMT -5
( start again, start again,
build a new world up instead
let the old one burn,
you get what you deserve )
Soft fingers and dewed petals;
he wears softness as a crown.
Francisco Bloom is a quiet regality, a fair ruler who is known for his mercy and gentleness. But, albeit the peaceful crown rested atop his head, there is a rose-thorned sword clutched in his hand that does not hesitate to harm anyone who riots against him and takes his kindness for granted. He can be the saccharine nectar of honeysuckles or the fragrant poison of white oleanders. For Saturn and his friend, Francisco chooses to be the latter. For Jessica’s sake, he would avenge her death.
Setting Jessica’s slackened form down on the sandy floor of the circus, a hand unhooks one of the remaining four knives from his belt. It weighs like the plethora of heavy promises he’s made in his hand – and Francis intends to keep each and every one of them.
He could feel Death encroaching upon them, slithering down the backbone like a chill, but he isn’t as dreadful as he was before. If he is to die, he shall die gloriously, wearing a sunflower-orbited hat above a winged helmet, loving the boy he stands next to, and besides the girl who protected him till the very end. This is a deathbed as beautiful as the field of sunflowers, he muses, surrounded by the little things he loves and had loved.
But, his pulse still hums underneath the skin and the grief within his head is yet to fade, prompting him to fight. He is still alive. He can still bare arms.
It is what Jessica Braun would do.
So, Francisco adjusts his morals and sharpens his gaze, the hand with the knife outstretched.
If he is assigned to decorate this tattered place with a flower that resembles it, his choice would be pink carnations and black roses, the former standing for remembrance and the latter symbolizing death.
Remember the dead.
He would remember Jessica.
A face that is all too hauntingly familiar to Francis emerges from the sea of blurred faces and twists, as the sword in its wearer’s hands buries itself down Saturn’s bicep. Still, jolt of satisfaction runs through his veins at the sight of his blood, no matter how transient. The boy’s ally swings her sword at Nico and it grazes his leg, drawing red, and this time, Francisco intervenes quickly. Death is amongst them, but he would hide Nico Thorne from its bony hands, like a forest hiding precious treasures, like a lake hiding sunken wonders.
“Save your apologies,” he snarls.
The girl’s face is clean and he can see the glimmer of innocence in her eyes, luminous and bright.
But, there is no innocence here.
Flowers devour other flowers, as creatures feast on other creatures; this is a rite of passage, what living truly means, and he does not resist it. The wild in wildflowers should never go unnoticed.( go in exile, go in vain,
keep burning to the borderlands
we become all that we hate,
start again, start again )
Lyrics : Zola Jesus — Please
( Francis attacks Damaris Hope | Throwing Knife 2 )
TbIN_QvB0Pthrowing knife
9137 -- Knife Deep in Bicep -- 8.5 damage