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such is the fate of a star: to burn too brightly, to collapse, to begin anew.
destroy to be reborn | r.h. (via andrewminyrd)
As light as the wind that brushed against the waves on a calm day, Forte could hardly feel the weight of Fina against his shoulder. It was a worrisome thought of how insubstantial the girl beside him could be as even someone as inadequate in strength like he could lift her up. Her platinum locks tickled the surface of his hand and he felt little need to brush them away.
Hair was always a curtain to her oval face - hiding her wistful and melancholy expression, as though everything in her thoughts were the universe’s best kept secret. Never one to disregard the privacy and boundaries of another - often, being too cowardly to dissect such occurrences - he left her be. He could never match the eagerness to learn of another like Rosalyn had, nor have the sentimentality to read every subtle gesture and expression as Icarus did, but, Forte knew how to let people be.
Observation was just as important as exploration and as someone as weak-willed as he would always choose that - which is a great downfall, but he digressed. Just as Fina leaned into him, he took to ignoring the temptation to sleep in the comfort of a friend by him. So much had happened, yes, but he wasn’t going to dwell on it so long as he still had a piece of him existing. Here. With him.
Her request had come out of nowhere, but it was just like her; to appear one day as though she’d been around for centuries and fit perfectly into the picture.
“Okay,” he complied, voice as soft as the day he was born, “Sylph.”
It was a strange name, foreign on his tongue, but it felt right as well. Fina had never been selfish as she had willingly gone along with the trio’s demands - more so the other two redheads. And though Forte was just as lackluster in his needs, he found it reassuring that she had asked him to do something for her.
It made him feel not as useless - not as left behind - not as…well…forgotten in the serenity of the moment.
You are Sylphina, paragon of your kind.
Days gone by, years, generations, centuries, eons. Time flows endless and she, a watcher of time, dipped her hands in that river. The Player that the Games never foresaw taking the “gift” given to her and making her own laws. She is callous, she is cold, distant, unresponsive. In one motion, she could rip someone apart and feel nothing. Ruthless, hands covered in blood of the lives she took so long ago.
She is deadly.
Red hair, bright smile, warmth. In the eyes of her Sun, she was a Tree, one that was ancient, one that had withstood the test of time. Temperamental, scowl on his lips, eyes that made you feel alive, the Fire hadn’t burned her. He served to making her feel.
Sylph wasn’t empty, not when it came to them.
Dark skin, gentle nature, everything good one could expect in a person. He is Forte, the one left behind. Every moment his heart beats, every time he’s breathing, it’s a reassurance. Time will take him, as it does with everyone else and yet, Sylph can feel herself becoming greedy. It wasn’t so long ago, so absurdly short, that the duo was once a quartet. Then that quartet became a trio, then it became two. Images of Rosalyn and Icarus burst forth, them arguing and there Forte is, letting them have at it. He only intervenes when need be and not a moment sooner.
The lithe female held out a hand, petite in size.
“You’re the only friend I have left.” The statement is bold for her but not so out of character. Her words were always straightforward, always said with the exact intent she wanted. “Perhaps that’s why I wish to treasure you more than I am used to doing. The thought that you are sad or that you do not see yourself the way I see you...it hurts. It’s a pain I haven’t felt in a long time.”
She pressed herself closer, letting herself talk more than she had with...well...anyone really. Rosalyn spoke often and she became used to Fina’s short and chopped sentence. Occasionally, they did talk in depth but never to point where words came tumbling out of her mouth. Even with Icarus, whom she had admired in her own way, this had never happen. Even that small burst of emotion upon the message he left for her after his death--
“Rosalyn became so important to me and it still leaves me feeling strange at that thought of that. Had it turned out differently, the idea of me never knowing you or her or even Icarus, it forms a lump in my throat.” Strange, odd, perplexing. Once started, she cannot stop. It’s as is every moment has been leading up to this. The further she reached for the deepest depths within herself, the more she was pushed into now. “I’ve seen many things. I’ve felt many things. I’ve done many things. So, it was easy to let it all go. Dark, grey, without sort of color. I accepted it, let myself be washed in the idea of that life was meant for me.”
Alone, timeless, forever.
“Ah.”
She can feel the faltering in her systems, her mind growing hazy. Too much output, she’s going to drift but she can’t--!!
“Do you...think...I could...stay?”
@dividedequinox
Silver eyes gaze distantly. Already, she is drifting, further and further. Time became less important, she almost could feel herself pushing closer to the point of no return--an event horizon. Once there, she won’t come back for a long while and a part of her almost reached for it until she blinked.
A smile, calm and soothing like the ocean. He never worries when she became like this, he simple waited for her. Her chest tighten at the thought. Nobody should wait for her. Not when time wasn’t a concept, not when she couldn’t return without spending too long somewhere else.
It’s a rare display of affection as she pressed her face into his shoulder, closing the distance between them. She breathed in his scent and once again, she is reminded of the sea. Eyes close and here, she can feel a little piece of home or what was the closest thing to it.
“Mmm...” Tired but not yet. “Forte. Can...you call me Sylph instead?”
Names were important. They signified something, a way to gauge one’s relationship with another. Fina would always be Fina to them, to the Sun, Fire, and Ocean but she was still Sylphina as well.
The wild loves the wolf, feral as it is. As salvation loves damnation, sinful though it is. And as I love you, sorrowfully as I can.
As summer loves winter, deadly as it is || p.d (via lostcap)
It’s hard not to remember those halcyon days...wouldn’t you say, Forte?
Spoiler, two people in this are already dead--//shot
For @dividedequinox. She’s the reason I even gave Fina another chance as a character. I just wasn’t happy with how I was working her out, hence why I deleted the blog but this time around, I can say with more confidence I’m glad she exist. Also thanks for ruining me with the trio. ;A;
smoke and ash and blood and bone and the singing, simmering scent of tragedy as it whistles in your veins; here is what your world is built on: children turned warriors turned leaders kings forged of impossibilities and forest crowns queens of golden thrones and a love like fire as it comes raining down on the new world here is what it is not built on: the habits of the old, the days gone by those who sought to keep peace by killing all the stars that died in the emptiness of space waiting for the apocalypse to come again here are those who built it: the boy who rose from shadows to touch the sun as it shines the girl who fell from ivory thrones into a world of crystalline danger the boys who gave their lives to save all those they loved the girl who forged a war’s end from her fire-burned fingertips the girl who stood on mountains and whispered peace into the rain dancing down upon her lands and here is how it ends: a new world, a new day space only a dream of a dream and the forests becoming home to the new generation of heroes
one hundred tragedies | m.j. | commission a poem (via astoriamalfoys)
I had a weird, empty feeling inside me. Not a bad sort of empty. It was a sort of lack of sensation, like being in pain for a long time and then suddenly realizing that you’re not anymore.
Maggie Stiefvater, Linger (via wordsnquotes)
Whenever I see you trying to carry everything on your shoulders like that...it...hurts. It hurts so bad that I just can't ignore you.
N & S
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His heart, Closed her eyes. His kindness, Made her blind.
Nicaury Lajara P. (via wnq-writers)
the one that comes after you is young, so young. you think you were that young once, in the part of your life marked “before” him. you t h i n k, but you are so unsure. much like the one that comes after you is, really– meeting eyes with you in the reflection of the mirror, both your skin tones made strange by the fluorescent glow of the bathroom light. the next one asks, “how do i make him happy?” you hear: “how do i make him stay?” you sigh, plunge hands back under scalding water, answer, “if i knew, you wouldn’t be asking me.” the next one, the young one, does not begrudge you this small glimpse of truth; this small glimpse of the future. the young one thinks that things will be different this time around; you do not begrudge them their faith while it lasts. when you leave, your hands still tingle with the memory of warmth; when you leave, your mind still echoes with the question of how to make him stay.
lessons on loving golden boys: epilogue, Drea O. (via susanpevensy)
Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment (via wordsnquotes)
You hurt me in a way no one else has ever before. You ripped my heart out, threw it on the ground, stomped on it, and left it there to bleed. And for that, Iʻll never forgive you.
ex-istential-crisis (via wnq-writers)
paragon
(pær əˌgɒn), noun | A paragon is defined as the ultimate model of excellence. It is the epitome of the ideal, a perfection and standard one desires to achieve. (via wordsnquotes)
She was like a star, nothing but a beautiful echo of death.
Maggie G. (via wnq-writers)
She hadn’t felt anything for so long, she started to thank people for hurting her.
sadisorder (via wnq-writers)