AH, THE SORROWFUL MELODY OF YESTERDAY !! it is not the flight of song that their heart shall adopt & come to adopt as its own, no matter the bitter irony that edges ever closer with each step forward. ( what choice do they have ? ) remorse’s detrimental kiss is a guarantee in life, for each erroneous course of action they’ve committed to will be scrutinized by a more matured version of themselves, an uncertain future that will forever dwell on thoughts & sentiments of the past, losing one’s self to alternate realities conjured up in mind. // they are the scions of the seventh dawn, & the sun’s rise is beyond the horizon of this dreadfully cold battlefield ——— nay, the vestiges of a lost battle. divine warmth of the sun will not be kept under veil for long, for night’s dominion is not its own, the sky a leveled field where moon & sun battle for each gaze, never - ending, yet hopeful all the same !! // darling, darling, heed the words of a once foolish minstrel, for his poetry comes not at the price of truth. these pitiful pools of sorrow will beg for your attention, but you must keep your eyes on me. on the dawn. on tomorrow.
❛ ————— bears ? ❜ intonation finds itself with a delightful raise, teetering closer towards familiar playfulness in lieu of somber tone that encapsulates the essence of their reunion. but no longer, no longer. this peculiar normality between them, even after everything, even after all that’s happened, is an obstacle they’re willing to overcome. together. fate’s whispers may be cruel, its grip tight & merciless, hopes of hearing delicate melodies, cries of agony, escape their lips like music. but the scions of the seventh dawn have never faltered so easily in the face of adversity. ❛ i wouldn’t say i’ve only fought bears. there are many creatures to be fought within the dravanian forelands, y’shtola. why, i daresay only one with my courage could survive so long in the wilderness. ❜ heed to the bonafide smile that curves at his lips. acknowledge the growing seed of peace at heart ; to be grounded yet again around her, it feels as if nothing has truly changed. ❛ have you ever once tussled with a wild chocobo ? one mistook my hair for food, somehow. ’tis only a miracle these fair features retain their beauteous look. ❜
fighting a smile in thancred’s wake would become increasingly difficult. his sly and sarcastic personality grew contagious, as well as the ludicrous mental image wrestling to be at the forefront of her mind. y’shtola would crack a smile.
even now, it lurks. an underlying mass of darkness sleeping beneath the surface. seeking, leeching. still, she smiles, she covers her mouth in a girlish manner. she stifles her laugh. her other hand rubs, kneads at her shoulder. as if it would do anything. as if she could just...rid herself of that guilt, to wash it away. maybe, the small, menial, inconspicuous task would help her push it back. to purge it.
“ mhm.... “ y’shtola hums in a condescending tone, leaning farther into the wall behind her, a much more casual position for them. a normal one. this was normal. it was all.... the same. the practiced talking from him, the listening from her. cue... the expected cheeky comment.
it wasn’t like y’shtola didn’t think thancred a courageous man, or brilliant, or any other self-proclaimed adjective he could muster up. though, he spoke far too much of it. his attitude was large, and his ego larger. that part of her friend, she feared would never change. strangely, it was quite comforting.
her lips pull into a smirk, gaze scrutinizing his appearance, a final experimental trial --- as if she could force the light back into her eyes. unsurprisingly, he was still a tangled mess of aether. “ you look quite different to me.” she quips, raising her eyebrows. “ and, it seems as if you still have a few stray feathers. “ her hand playfully flicks at one of many tousled, out of place hairs.
