beneath these twin crowns, we fracture // mo + sami, 5th vt
Jul 14, 2021 19:29:42 GMT -5
Post by lance on Jul 14, 2021 19:29:42 GMT -5
m o h a m e d .
"you are weak
but not foolish
you have learned
how to die."
It's almost surreal, finding yourself on the other end of the festivities this time around. One year and six months removed from your own victory, one year exactly removed from breaking down in front of Babe and formally meeting Samiyuq for the first time in strange lands, and this time you are the one hardened by the aftermath, tempered by experience, more knowledgeable through experience.
Back then, you'd thought yourself about to die. Back then, you thought yourself unworthy of life. Back then, the scars on your psyche still gushed forth crimson gold, drowning any and every other thought that hoped to emerge. But you hadn't had to swim on your own, learn to navigate this newfound wasteland of a life through trial, error, and loneliness.
Babe and Sami both had done far more for you than you ever knew how to repay, all under the assumption that you'd pay it forward when another year came to pass and another lost, tortured soul joined your ranks of the undead. But that year had come and gone and then some, and as your immediate successor and you draw closer to your first meeting, you find yourself unsure of the path ahead of you.
Not, you note bitterly, for the first time.
"You've done this a few times now," you break the silence as Terra Montague's train appears on the horizon. "Is it normal to be this afraid?"
A pause. "I know what I should do. It's the least I can do for her after what you and Babe did for me last year." Swallow. "Have done for me ever since, really."
One year and six months of recovery, with the gentle guidance of two who'd been through the gauntlet already, had years both in life and in recovery to draw extra wisdom from. You know you should join their ranks; hell, you've wanted to, if only to ease the suffering of whom may come after you the same way your own burdened was eased.
"But I'm not sure if I'm ready," comes the admission in a puff, your exhale burning white against the winter chill. "What if I just make things worse, instead?"
Good intentions soured by incompetent action - of that, you are only all too familiar.