CUMBERSOME AND HEAVY BODY && Attack

[spacexual]

i heard you were looking like the moon — tags

There is a constant cycle. A circle of life. A cycle of war. It always repeats itself. It is far too complex for his young, undeveloped mind to ever explain. But, he knows. He always ends up where he begins.

In most situations, he would avoid lots of noise. Lots of noise usually meant something bad. Something horrible.

But, there was so much of it, and it included voices he recognized. One in particular, his newly found father.

His flames are gone. Whether they will ever come back or not, he does not know, but he's been trying not to risk it. No sleep, only clean meals, pushing away bad thoughts. Happy faces. Happy conversations. He wishes to see the world as long and as much as he can. He owes his friend that much. This was not the very first time he's stepped foot into the town, but it is still one of the very first. And, it's certainly the first time he's presented himself outwardly, where a crowd may see him, where he may see them, too. The boy was so tired of being consumed by the fire. He couldn't risk it. But, today, it seems something was different. It seems it's something he must pay mind to, even if he will not be directly involved. Even if he will end up useless in the end.

He is not foreign to this sense of destruction - it is the very thing that inspired his creation.

Still, the tiger is unable to contain his shock as he sees the rage from his father, the blood, and the aggression of it all. The views of a war he has no place in. A war he is directly involved in, still, even if he does not know its origins nor its meaning. Because this is what he was made for.

He'd been made with no other intent than to be a weapon. Than to follow orders. Than to finish a war that had gone on far too long and was too hopeless to win. He'd never had any rights. He'd never gotten what he wanted. And, that would be true even now. The experiment would never be free. Not truly. He is too tied to the chains that conceived his very being. They are a part of him and he is a part of them - they could never part ways, no matter how much he begged, and cried, and yearned. He could not get his desires, because he is nothing more than a tool. Not even a boy. A weapon. A weapon that wishes to deny its purpose. Useless. Defective.

And now, the sights, the voices, the arguments are all ones he's heard before. He's been a part of them all before. His friend had been a part of them all before. There was a never-ending a war in his life. An infinite violence.

He can't stand it.

The boy is exhausted.

And now, he can feel it. He can feel the heat, the sparks. He cannot do anything but run now. Run far away. To where, he does not know. It doesn't matter anymore. He knows now that he will never escape it.

It repeats.