every flower is a soul [finale]
Apr 28, 2019 17:54:16 GMT -5
Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Apr 28, 2019 17:54:16 GMT -5
The knife bounces from his armour with a clank and he goes unharmed. I shake my head slightly but keep the faith—this is still the love I know, for it takes time, annoyingly, and soon enough it will come around in a stronger wave than ever. It is a tsunami of emotion powered by my devotion to the cause, impossible to withstand, ridding the world of every ounce of hate in its wake.
Nico's eyes stare through my person to my core, and part of them feels like they burn more than any weapon could ever burn. There's a piercing nature to him that is the work of exceptional fine tuning; it is like he has let go of all the parts that made him good in favour of the ones that made him bad. Perhaps he is similar to Angel de Costa, and he too has lost his patience and given up for the sake of rebellion.
Yet the best rebels at least have a sufficient cause, and when I look at Nico, all I can see in his engine of a body is hate. That is all that flows through his veins: his blood stained with a darkness that comes only from accepting anger in its rawest form. Breathing it in is one thing, but to exhale it without filtering the extremely awful parts is not something I could ever do, because anger is cruel and painful. It must come from a terrible place within his soul, if he still has one, for that might be one of the parts he has given up and replaced with pure hatred.
He listens when I speak, but I feel that is only the case because there is nobody else to listen to. He is not like Ambrosia; Nico is his own kind of insane for falling through love straight to hate, but he does not talk to thin air and act like their are imaginary friends who will make everything alright. He stifles a laugh, his eyes widening with a growing sense of tiredness, and though it would be fine for me to start building my own anger for he ignores my passion, I do not let myself mimic his hateful nature. I have not changed thus far and I do not plan on changing now, for I am Diana, and I always will be.
A shot of a glance to my armour and there's a comment about how it is selfish to wear the items of a dead man. I do not agree; it is different. Nico acts out of his own will, driven by a goal to get revenge for what I did to Francisco. There are no external factors to think about for him, it seems like his only interests are himself. It is the same as all the people who have come before: the people who want to do this to prove something to someone, to make sure that people know they are a figure not to be messed with. I am alone, on my own, fighting not for myself, but for the love the world so desperately needs to see.
It can be easy to forget what someone is fighting for when you are distracted by fires burning in your eyes. Maybe Nico once fought for something more important than a pitiful accomplishment to justify holding his head in the future, but now it seems he has let that go in favour of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. It is rather quite sad how he clings so hopelessly to past, not realising that the future will only be worse unless he does not act immediately, right now, abandoning his head in favour of something softer, purer: heart.
Boys have never had their priorities straight, my father taught me that from a young age. It was not an intentional lesson, not a lecture where he sat down and explained it to me—I just knew from his own actions that one day, I would have to speak out and be louder than what he, and the others, do.
And of the future, there are thousands of people watching these moments, idolising the words we say and moves we make. It would break my heart to see people stare at Nico Thorne with stars in their eyes, looking into his darkness and seeing something to be proud of. But the world as I know it is wrong like that; I have seen it in Seven and it probably goes for other districts too—it has been so long since someone, anyone reminded them what it is like to feel warm love, rich love, as good and great as it comes. Time goes on and people start looking for the same feeling in other things, but of course, these are the broken things, and people start to wish on a star that is not even shooting.
I nod my head when he questions what I believe in. For he has not know love like I have, perhaps he has not seen how hate plants itself like a sick seed into homes and grows up and out to destroy the four walls and the roof. There will be nothing left of any home if we, I, continue to let it fester amongst all the people. They will try to combat it logistically, not emotionally, and strategy can only go so far when against something as cold as hate.
"I do believe it," I nod my head firmly this time because I am strong through love and that is nothing to be ashamed of. Lex was the first to question the place of heart in the Hunger Games and I knew that she would not be the last—but it certainly has a place. It belongs in my chest for moments like this, when I am faced with the bitter face of someone clinging to the hateful past thinking that it will lead to the much needed change everyone so desperately needs. In the grand scheme of things, though, it belongs to something much bigger. "I am not special, I just have my heart in the best place. The right place. Everyone seems to have forgotten how good a heart is. Everyone is caught up in work, everyone is poor, everyone is so sad that they have forgotten that the one thing that everyone can do to make a difference... which is to love each other."
I look to the ground. "You probably don't see it, you know, it seems you are fixated on hate. I get it, the whole world is like that. But nothing is going to change if everyone keeps on hating solely because it is the status quo." He spits when he speaks again, talking of my use of Francisco's blades and how I can justify it as love.
It reminds me of sacrifice: sometimes you have to give small things up for the sake of something bigger. Love for one is not the same as love for many; love for many has more power than anything I have ever known—that is what has placed me here, because when I called to Seven to reciprocate the love I put into the world, it listened and responded stronger than I had ever imagined. "It is in love's best interests," I say to him, because I think it would be painful to tell someone they are sacrifice someone else is willing to make. "Love did make me a murderer, but it also made me feel the pain of each one of those kills. It made me wait up at night to say a prayer for their friends and families, it made me cry for the whole world to see." And in this state of status quo, crying, feeling one's emotions is not something the world is comfortable with.
"I don't want to send you back, I want to send you on." Because sending him back would only place him in the sorry past, and if I could have it my way, the future would be far better.
[ diana attacks nico ; flaming throwing knife ]
VgXLpYQ6bAthrowing knife
1-50
[ 9121 -- shallow cut on hand -- 3.0 damage ]
throwing knife·1-50VgXLpYQ6bAthrowing knife
1-50
[ 9121 -- shallow cut on hand -- 3.0 damage ]