01-02-2021, 10:10 AM
DEAR FRIEND as you know, your flowers are withering
your mother's gone insane, your leaves have drifted away.
but the clouds are clearing up
and i've come reveling, burning incandescently,
like a bastard on the burning sea.
your mother's gone insane, your leaves have drifted away.
but the clouds are clearing up
and i've come reveling, burning incandescently,
like a bastard on the burning sea.
*tldr at bottom
It had been loud, so overwhelmingly victorious. The final moment had come; the snake pinned down, scimitar aligned for the final blow. If she were to cut off his head, she wonders, would he grow two more? Well, she wouldn't find out. Her sword makes contact, dives in, but he had managed one final attempt. And her body was flung backwards, head first, making contact with the Earth. And suddenly it had all been over, just like that.
There had once been a woman.
A captain, once angry, once so sadly sick, once so grand and rich, so beaten, so powerful, so alive.
"I am Goldenluxury Roux," she had declared, loudly, confidently. For this was something she had known, and known well; she was Goldenluxury Roux, the daughter of Pincher Roux and Guru. She was a sister, a niece, a cousin, and a friend. She was the future of her home, the future of her family, and the future of her own life. So it had seemed, at least. But the future was fickle, as was past, present, and everything in between. A lifetime filled with all it had to offer.
She had lived and died by the sea, to the Gods above and below, to the forces around, and the world she was kin to.
To the chains that had held her so tightly, the noise that enjoyed to make its stay in her mind every so often, to the oppressive nature of living and breathing. And she demanded, loudly, violently, that it would be silenced. That she may not be held so tightly. That the freedom of her, her family, and any other, was not something someone may take away so easily. That the serpent that tried to take her, convince her she was wrong, make her think she was to blame, that her mother deserved to die, that she deserved the same fate, that she had blood on her paws that could never be cleaned. And in a sense, he may have been right. But none of that had mattered, because fundamentally, he had been wrong. He could not fix her, not offer the correct punishment to whatever crimes her child mind had brought her to, because he was far too guilty on his own end to offer such a morality. He was a serpent, binding the freedom that'd belonged to others as a birthright, and claiming it, along with their minds, for his own bidding. And that was not to be accepted by a pirate, much less the heiress to them, to their future.
He'd tried to take that away from her, hide away her memories, take away the daughter of the sea. But she had been more than that. Just a girl, with no memories, and a broken body, but she had a home. A family. Freedom. And inside, a deep, ever-growing fire burned. To make his life living Hell first. And then it would be time, to show him. He'd failed. He was wrong all along, and would die a failure. Those he would hold in his grasp would never have to worry again. That was the captain's desire, and that was the ultimate purpose of her hunt.
And she was stubborn, she would not give up despite his evasion. She would not believe his death until she saw it with her own two eyes. To be presented his living, breathing body two years later was almost a relief. No matter the circumstance. This encounter had been long since delayed. And things had been far too quiet, for too long. The female knew that she was a high target, that someone would always try to kill her. It was just a matter of when they'd show up. There was no waste in the ambush, no matter how she may have lost then. Her message had been sent, hunt had been spread, and they would know their purpose as well as she had.
If that had been the end for her, that would have been alright.
She'd have desired a different death, she would describe it worse than both drowning and burning, of which she'd experienced first-hand. But it would have been the way things were supposed to go, and she'd have fulfilled her duty. She'd brought freedom, she'd lead her family, her crew, and she'd raised her children the only way she knew how. What more could she ask, other than the death of the snake? Nothing more at all. And if she were to go with an incomplete bucket list, she would have at least had the reassurance her crew would follow her final wish. She knew they would have.
But things hadn't ended there. And life continued, much to her surprise. Though she'd tried not to feel too shocked by anything anymore. She'd lived through enough to know that life was simply and ultimately not something she could predict perfectly, no matter how many plans she may create for however many possibilities her mind could craft.
Ultimately, the deed had been complete.
Deep, deep down, a lotus flower sinks. Slowly it drifts, pressure increasing, darkness growing. The fish pass along, souls watch in a silent grief, a serpent rumbled deep in the distance. A hand reaches from below, a wordless invitation that'd been sent out too soon, too early. As much as she'd convinced herself that time was too limited, that any day could very well be the last, and that she'd cheated it twice already, this was not yet her time. Too swift did the cuts, the cracks break through, chaotic and imperfect. And much to the hand's dismay, the grief was premature. Still, one, two, count them, a few strings held on. The majority of the intricate knots had been all cut through, sliced away. And just barely does the thread, worked so delicately, holds on. And the lotus remains attached despite.
Though, that did not mean all was as it had been. The fates had decided this, that she would not die yet.
A flower known to grow in even the most muddled waters, held on in its withered, wilted state, desperately to the last few strings that hold it together. Petals lost, leaves fallen off, something that would certainly point towards only one final fate in not much time. Kept with no sunlight, no soothing ripples of the water, no signs of life at all. Just depravation, and darkness, and death. One had to question what could keep it holding on so tightly. How it still prevailed, how it still fought even after being beaten down after such an experience time and time again, only to be knocked to the side, the grip of finality so tight. How could something in such a sick state take any more hits, and still make it?
Perhaps it was simply by design, and a sprinkle of luck. Perhaps the thread had been woven tighter, stronger, specifically meant for this time and place that she may find herself in. She'd always been one for planning, though this entire situation was much beyond her own control. This lied in the hands of those who held much more power than she ever would or could. They made the choice for her here, and if she were aware of it, she would probably be thankful, that they would allow her more time.
But she would not be aware, she would not know at all of the time she had, or the time she will be given. She does not know the feelings, the experiences. The serpent that she'd vanquished - it had truly been done, but not without cost. Nothing in life was free, after all. And the victory, the long awaited end to her hunt could not be a victory she may celebrate, for she'd not know what it was she would be celebrating.
A lifetime stolen and returned, only to be stolen once more, with no promise, no sign now. Hands from above slowly, gently reach towards the flower, cupping her in their large grasp. Slowly, they begin to pull her upwards, begin to bring her back towards a light - one she'd seen before, though she'd no knowledge of it now. "Sweet child," they would call to her. She could offer no response, for she was simply a wilted flower, sunken and barely holding on. "You are confused. Your name is Goldenluxury Roux, you are the demigoddess of raging storms. We are here to help you, if you will only listen, when it is time."
Goldenluxury Roux was many things, held many meanings, and she'd no idea.
"But, now, you must wake up."
But she was Goldenluxury Roux, the demigoddess of raging storms. The Gods have declared it so.
And thus, the woman opens her eyes, slowly, light blinding her sensitive eyes, head throbbing, and mouth moving to let out a high-pitched cry of pain. Consciousness slowly took over, a buzzing mind, a single offering of knowledge in her loss, and a feeling of nausea taking place. Though she wouldn't know it, it'd been several days since the raid now, and the first time she's awoken since. She wouldn't know anything about it in the slightest, in fact.
*tldr: goldie successfully killed stryker in the raid thread, however in the process he managed to get one final blow on her, causing her to knock her head and suffer a severe concussion. this results in her staying in the temple unconscious for several days, and she's just now woken up, letting out a noise in response to the pain from her head.
It had been loud, so overwhelmingly victorious. The final moment had come; the snake pinned down, scimitar aligned for the final blow. If she were to cut off his head, she wonders, would he grow two more? Well, she wouldn't find out. Her sword makes contact, dives in, but he had managed one final attempt. And her body was flung backwards, head first, making contact with the Earth. And suddenly it had all been over, just like that.
There had once been a woman.
A captain, once angry, once so sadly sick, once so grand and rich, so beaten, so powerful, so alive.
"I am Goldenluxury Roux," she had declared, loudly, confidently. For this was something she had known, and known well; she was Goldenluxury Roux, the daughter of Pincher Roux and Guru. She was a sister, a niece, a cousin, and a friend. She was the future of her home, the future of her family, and the future of her own life. So it had seemed, at least. But the future was fickle, as was past, present, and everything in between. A lifetime filled with all it had to offer.
She had lived and died by the sea, to the Gods above and below, to the forces around, and the world she was kin to.
To the chains that had held her so tightly, the noise that enjoyed to make its stay in her mind every so often, to the oppressive nature of living and breathing. And she demanded, loudly, violently, that it would be silenced. That she may not be held so tightly. That the freedom of her, her family, and any other, was not something someone may take away so easily. That the serpent that tried to take her, convince her she was wrong, make her think she was to blame, that her mother deserved to die, that she deserved the same fate, that she had blood on her paws that could never be cleaned. And in a sense, he may have been right. But none of that had mattered, because fundamentally, he had been wrong. He could not fix her, not offer the correct punishment to whatever crimes her child mind had brought her to, because he was far too guilty on his own end to offer such a morality. He was a serpent, binding the freedom that'd belonged to others as a birthright, and claiming it, along with their minds, for his own bidding. And that was not to be accepted by a pirate, much less the heiress to them, to their future.
He'd tried to take that away from her, hide away her memories, take away the daughter of the sea. But she had been more than that. Just a girl, with no memories, and a broken body, but she had a home. A family. Freedom. And inside, a deep, ever-growing fire burned. To make his life living Hell first. And then it would be time, to show him. He'd failed. He was wrong all along, and would die a failure. Those he would hold in his grasp would never have to worry again. That was the captain's desire, and that was the ultimate purpose of her hunt.
And she was stubborn, she would not give up despite his evasion. She would not believe his death until she saw it with her own two eyes. To be presented his living, breathing body two years later was almost a relief. No matter the circumstance. This encounter had been long since delayed. And things had been far too quiet, for too long. The female knew that she was a high target, that someone would always try to kill her. It was just a matter of when they'd show up. There was no waste in the ambush, no matter how she may have lost then. Her message had been sent, hunt had been spread, and they would know their purpose as well as she had.
If that had been the end for her, that would have been alright.
She'd have desired a different death, she would describe it worse than both drowning and burning, of which she'd experienced first-hand. But it would have been the way things were supposed to go, and she'd have fulfilled her duty. She'd brought freedom, she'd lead her family, her crew, and she'd raised her children the only way she knew how. What more could she ask, other than the death of the snake? Nothing more at all. And if she were to go with an incomplete bucket list, she would have at least had the reassurance her crew would follow her final wish. She knew they would have.
But things hadn't ended there. And life continued, much to her surprise. Though she'd tried not to feel too shocked by anything anymore. She'd lived through enough to know that life was simply and ultimately not something she could predict perfectly, no matter how many plans she may create for however many possibilities her mind could craft.
Ultimately, the deed had been complete.
Deep, deep down, a lotus flower sinks. Slowly it drifts, pressure increasing, darkness growing. The fish pass along, souls watch in a silent grief, a serpent rumbled deep in the distance. A hand reaches from below, a wordless invitation that'd been sent out too soon, too early. As much as she'd convinced herself that time was too limited, that any day could very well be the last, and that she'd cheated it twice already, this was not yet her time. Too swift did the cuts, the cracks break through, chaotic and imperfect. And much to the hand's dismay, the grief was premature. Still, one, two, count them, a few strings held on. The majority of the intricate knots had been all cut through, sliced away. And just barely does the thread, worked so delicately, holds on. And the lotus remains attached despite.
Though, that did not mean all was as it had been. The fates had decided this, that she would not die yet.
A flower known to grow in even the most muddled waters, held on in its withered, wilted state, desperately to the last few strings that hold it together. Petals lost, leaves fallen off, something that would certainly point towards only one final fate in not much time. Kept with no sunlight, no soothing ripples of the water, no signs of life at all. Just depravation, and darkness, and death. One had to question what could keep it holding on so tightly. How it still prevailed, how it still fought even after being beaten down after such an experience time and time again, only to be knocked to the side, the grip of finality so tight. How could something in such a sick state take any more hits, and still make it?
Perhaps it was simply by design, and a sprinkle of luck. Perhaps the thread had been woven tighter, stronger, specifically meant for this time and place that she may find herself in. She'd always been one for planning, though this entire situation was much beyond her own control. This lied in the hands of those who held much more power than she ever would or could. They made the choice for her here, and if she were aware of it, she would probably be thankful, that they would allow her more time.
But she would not be aware, she would not know at all of the time she had, or the time she will be given. She does not know the feelings, the experiences. The serpent that she'd vanquished - it had truly been done, but not without cost. Nothing in life was free, after all. And the victory, the long awaited end to her hunt could not be a victory she may celebrate, for she'd not know what it was she would be celebrating.
A lifetime stolen and returned, only to be stolen once more, with no promise, no sign now. Hands from above slowly, gently reach towards the flower, cupping her in their large grasp. Slowly, they begin to pull her upwards, begin to bring her back towards a light - one she'd seen before, though she'd no knowledge of it now. "Sweet child," they would call to her. She could offer no response, for she was simply a wilted flower, sunken and barely holding on. "You are confused. Your name is Goldenluxury Roux, you are the demigoddess of raging storms. We are here to help you, if you will only listen, when it is time."
Goldenluxury Roux was many things, held many meanings, and she'd no idea.
"But, now, you must wake up."
But she was Goldenluxury Roux, the demigoddess of raging storms. The Gods have declared it so.
And thus, the woman opens her eyes, slowly, light blinding her sensitive eyes, head throbbing, and mouth moving to let out a high-pitched cry of pain. Consciousness slowly took over, a buzzing mind, a single offering of knowledge in her loss, and a feeling of nausea taking place. Though she wouldn't know it, it'd been several days since the raid now, and the first time she's awoken since. She wouldn't know anything about it in the slightest, in fact.
*tldr: goldie successfully killed stryker in the raid thread, however in the process he managed to get one final blow on her, causing her to knock her head and suffer a severe concussion. this results in her staying in the temple unconscious for several days, and she's just now woken up, letting out a noise in response to the pain from her head.
NOTHING'S EVER LOST FOREVER, IT'S JUST HIDING IN THE RECESS OF YOUR MIND AND WHEN YOU NEED IT, IT WILL COME TO YOU AT NIGHT. I MISS THE YELLOW. I MISS THE YELLING AND THE SHAKEDOWN. I'M NOT COMPLAINING, NO, I GOT A BETTER SET OF KNIVES NOW. I MISS MY DRUMMER, MY DEAD STEPBROTHER, AND THE PIT CROWD. AND CHUCK AND MATTY - IF THEY COULD SEE ME THEY'D BE SO PROUD.
![[Image: m8K6iBN.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/m8K6iBN.gif)
