04-30-2018, 07:47 PM
sillage (n.) the scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone
How was one supposed to continue? When they were stripped of everything, killed in one life only to be placed in another, forced to relearn everything they had known--how could they go on? He still isn't sure. All of this he had experienced full-hand, and yet he still wouldn't be able to answer if someone asked. Really, compared to his previous life, he was merely existing now. His life, once full of action and accomplishment, was now reduced to barely anything. It was hard to find any motivation to continue.
Still, he did. He wasn't even sure why. Maybe it was the natural instinct inside him, or just simply the need to not be up-shown by his students that had also passed over. Either way, he still continued with his newly drab life.
At first, it was difficult. Aizawa didn't show it, tucking it safely behind closed doors. But he was struggling with the idea that he had died--that all of them had died--and now they were here, in some fantasy-like world where animals could talk and had mystical powers and honestly, he had hoped that it was all just a dream. It seemed that way, really, all these odd things happening. But when he failed to wake up from one of his many naps or to the sound of his alarm, he knew that it was reality.
He was frustrated. It was understandable, especially when the ones who were in his same position acted so much better than he did, dealt with it so much better. It didn't show to those around him, but adjusting was difficult. At least he had been better off than his students, since Izuku and Todoroki had been around long before him. He didn't really like to think about how they had died as well--about how he and all the other teachers of U.A had failed to protect the future generation of heroes.
Day by day, he could feel the remnants of his past life slipping away. His memories did stay in-tact, some that he had forgotten even returning to him. But it still felt like it was all fading away, like a weight off his shoulders, or a cover lifted off of him. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, either.
He naturally clung to whatever he had left. His life had been less than ideal, yet he still hung onto it so tightly. It was mostly out of a need for familiarity--he definitely preferred it over this weird land of talking animals. But, as he spent more time in his new body and new environment, he slowly began to feel more at peace with it all. Though the memories of his own demise would soon crush down on him again, forcing him back into a corner.
How was one supposed to continue? When they were stripped of everything, killed in one life only to be placed in another, forced to relearn everything they had known--how could they go on? He still isn't sure. All of this he had experienced full-hand, and yet he still wouldn't be able to answer if someone asked. Really, compared to his previous life, he was merely existing now. His life, once full of action and accomplishment, was now reduced to barely anything. It was hard to find any motivation to continue.
Still, he did. He wasn't even sure why. Maybe it was the natural instinct inside him, or just simply the need to not be up-shown by his students that had also passed over. Either way, he still continued with his newly drab life.
At first, it was difficult. Aizawa didn't show it, tucking it safely behind closed doors. But he was struggling with the idea that he had died--that all of them had died--and now they were here, in some fantasy-like world where animals could talk and had mystical powers and honestly, he had hoped that it was all just a dream. It seemed that way, really, all these odd things happening. But when he failed to wake up from one of his many naps or to the sound of his alarm, he knew that it was reality.
He was frustrated. It was understandable, especially when the ones who were in his same position acted so much better than he did, dealt with it so much better. It didn't show to those around him, but adjusting was difficult. At least he had been better off than his students, since Izuku and Todoroki had been around long before him. He didn't really like to think about how they had died as well--about how he and all the other teachers of U.A had failed to protect the future generation of heroes.
Day by day, he could feel the remnants of his past life slipping away. His memories did stay in-tact, some that he had forgotten even returning to him. But it still felt like it was all fading away, like a weight off his shoulders, or a cover lifted off of him. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, either.
He naturally clung to whatever he had left. His life had been less than ideal, yet he still hung onto it so tightly. It was mostly out of a need for familiarity--he definitely preferred it over this weird land of talking animals. But, as he spent more time in his new body and new environment, he slowly began to feel more at peace with it all. Though the memories of his own demise would soon crush down on him again, forcing him back into a corner.