05-05-2020, 12:05 PM
[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-family:verdana;"](severe injury and death tw)
Good morning, great death.
If there is a light greater than that of the sun, he has seen it. Seeing the light is a burden to carry but he has made it his own, eyes blank and wild, pupils melting to pinpricks that lose themselves in the pale clouds of colorless irises. In the great absence of sight, he sees - mother, his mother. And she tells him that death is a memory she wishes to show him, for she was alone when she died and now he will go alone, too.
And she shows him. It is an image he cannot forget: hellfire, winding through the skies and ever-violent. He feels skin tear from bone and there is nothing left but the subtle feeling of gone-ness, if that is a word to describe death. For a few seconds he drifts. If he thinks without a brain, he thinks of Roxanne, her head on his shoulder. How he would've held her tight if he knew it would be like this - so painful that he feels nothing in his own evisceration.
He feels eyes fly open, but they are not his own. Senses return piece by piece. He hears screaming, feels raw exposed bone just a little to the right. A blur in his eyes is a familiar thing to behold. On the fringes of it all are the remnants of a feral animal trying to run, paws still twitching on instinct even though the soul had left and been replaced long ago. Kazuhira, dead, severed from the body and thrown into another, staggers to his feet and does not give himself time to question what, or why.
But he runs. No longer a cheetah but agile with the narrow body of a fox, he stumbles into a run. Blood gushes from the wound near-severing his leg and pain makes him bite back a wild screech. But above the driving instinct to run and never stop, he swings his head and watches the carnage with wide and half-seeing eyes, desperate to find hope in the wreckage. To find her, if there is anything left.
To the grave that lies below, good day.
Good morning, great death.
If there is a light greater than that of the sun, he has seen it. Seeing the light is a burden to carry but he has made it his own, eyes blank and wild, pupils melting to pinpricks that lose themselves in the pale clouds of colorless irises. In the great absence of sight, he sees - mother, his mother. And she tells him that death is a memory she wishes to show him, for she was alone when she died and now he will go alone, too.
And she shows him. It is an image he cannot forget: hellfire, winding through the skies and ever-violent. He feels skin tear from bone and there is nothing left but the subtle feeling of gone-ness, if that is a word to describe death. For a few seconds he drifts. If he thinks without a brain, he thinks of Roxanne, her head on his shoulder. How he would've held her tight if he knew it would be like this - so painful that he feels nothing in his own evisceration.
He feels eyes fly open, but they are not his own. Senses return piece by piece. He hears screaming, feels raw exposed bone just a little to the right. A blur in his eyes is a familiar thing to behold. On the fringes of it all are the remnants of a feral animal trying to run, paws still twitching on instinct even though the soul had left and been replaced long ago. Kazuhira, dead, severed from the body and thrown into another, staggers to his feet and does not give himself time to question what, or why.
But he runs. No longer a cheetah but agile with the narrow body of a fox, he stumbles into a run. Blood gushes from the wound near-severing his leg and pain makes him bite back a wild screech. But above the driving instinct to run and never stop, he swings his head and watches the carnage with wide and half-seeing eyes, desperate to find hope in the wreckage. To find her, if there is anything left.
To the grave that lies below, good day.
[align=center][div style="font-size:12pt;font-family:verdana;color:#4c5461;letter-spacing:-2pt;"][i][b]—-— I GET [color=#4c5461]MEAN WHEN I'M
NERVOUS, LIKE A BAD DOG
NERVOUS, LIKE A BAD DOG