#decayinghonour

[youngrevolutionary]

@decayinghonour​​ // “life is a swirling abyss of suffering and disappointment”

"--And yet, no disappointment will be greater than when Edea learns I cannot secure a clear path into the Vaulny canyons...” He shoots a cold look over toward the other, brow wrinkling that fresh scar between his eyes. “Now consider what my disappointment will be like when she faults me for it...” 

[croweoftheglaive]

I mean I think we both know who I ship Crowe with. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (This is definitely Not Kanna)

Well, Definitely-Not-Kanna, I’m sure I’ve no idea who you’re talking about.  I mean, it definitely couldn’t be Vidar, could it?

Unheard of!

(  who do you ship my muse with? —  @faintvalour / @decayinghonour  )

[shockwavepulsar]

Valentine’s Interactions // send  one  of  these  in  to  see  my  muse’s  reaction (  add “ +reverse”  for  my  muse  to  do  the  action  to  yours ) ! // Not Accepting.

@decayinghonour:  [ slow dance ] back in those galbadia garden days.

No matter how hard she tried to blend into the wall, there was no way to escape the eyes of hundreds of Galbadian students. Although the dance was not mandatory, the invitation by Martine himself wasn’t one she could easily decline, not if she wanted to have a future as an instructor. It’d be hard for Balamb to refuse if she had his recommendation. Still, she felt unwelcome, foreign, a thorn stuck to the side of an otherwise beautiful rose. She tried her best to answer questions from curious adults fascinated with her ability to become a SeeD at age 15, but as the night went on, she felt more and more like an oddity than a person. She was on display, paraded around like some sort of genius murder-machine. Intelligent, beautiful, deadly, and so young. They pitied her as much as they were envious. And she wanted to be one of them? An instructor? They acted as if there was something wrong with a girl being able to kill someone with a deadly weapon before most civilians were able to drive a car. Yet, they were the ones teaching the kids. Hypocrites.

The only reason Quistis stopped counting the days until her return to Balamb was because of one person who made her feel like she wasn’t anything special—as odd as that may have sounded. He wasn’t impressed by her status, wasn’t particularly excited by her accomplishments, didn’t ruminate on her potential. To him, she was just a person. It felt so nice to feel normal. It helped that Galbadian students weren’t particularly fond of him, either, not that it was a good thing but more that it made her feel less lonely. 

They cast their eyes away from him most of the time, taking chance glances when they felt emboldened, but most of their judgement came from whispers amongst each other. She could handle whispers. She just hoped the eyes wouldn’t follow her, wouldn’t cling to him the way they did her, especially after she returned to Balamb. Two weeks, but she wasn’t counting, didn’t want to count. If they did look, he wouldn’t care. She wished she didn’t care. She wished she could siphon his confidence, even a little bit, to feel like she was more capable. If she could just trick herself into believing in herself, maybe she could learn to do it naturally. Her eyes scanned the room, looking for any sight of him. She didn’t even know if he would be there at all. If anything, perhaps for the free food and drinks, but certainly not for the students or faculty. Sure enough, she found him on his own, taking a bite from a tiny sandwich and watching. It didn’t seem like he was looking at anyone in particular, but more like he was zoning out, aimlessly in thought. She approached, but decided to stand next to him instead of greeting him. It was easy for the two to relate without speaking, without drawing attention to the people who judged them, people who were unworthy of being noticed quite frankly. Just being near him helped her feel like they didn’t matter. She could still feel eyes on her, and on him now, but standing in his presence made her feel more defiant, more rebellious. They weren’t going to take her night away from her anymore. She had just as much of a right to be there and enjoy the ball as any native Galbadian student did. If anything, she had more of a right. She was better than them. She could take any of them on. God, Vidar’s nature was infectious. God, she didn’t want to leave. Two weeks.  No counting.

“This is so much different from Balamb’s SeeD Graduation Ball,” she said finally over the music. “It’s much more...lively?” Perhaps that wasn’t the right word. It was more crowded and the music wasn’t as formulaic. The students could dance without having to worry about getting the steps right. She even found herself swaying and bobbing slightly to it. She couldn’t help it; she loved dancing. A few moments passed by as she worked up the courage to ask him to dance with her. It felt almost impossible to fight against the knot building in her stomach, but she came up with an excuse, a perfectly plausible reason for him to dance with her. Something other than the fact that it was their only chance, that she wouldn’t be around much longer. That it’d be a waste if they didn’t. After these past few months, it would be regretful not to—at least once. “I’m so tired of everyone staring at me tonight. Let’s give them something to look at?”  

She slipped her hand into his and faced him, backing up into the crowd. She was surprised when he followed her lead, but she didn’t express it with anything other than a smile. She looked over her shoulder and carved a path for them towards the dance floor, not that it was particularly difficult. Most of them stepped aside as if avoiding the plague. It just made her feel more powerful. Confidently stepping into the center of the floor, she faced her partner and began moving to the music, glad to see him follow along. He seemed amused enough with making the people around them upset. He felt even more bold in that he drew her closer to him as the music slowed. She complied, but focused on the faces around them at first. They watched, but turned their gazes as they made contact with her or Vidar. Cowards. Look at me enjoying myself, having fun. You can’t deny me what I deserve. Her attention turned back to Vidar, and his toward her. They swayed to the smoky yet sweet sound of guitar, piano, and strings accompanying a soft voice almost whispering desires of running, leaving with someone. She looked into his eyes, feeling transported within them. She knew she shouldn’t feel that way, that it was likely just because she was so lonely and he was there, and he didn’t care. About anything. Or anyone. Yet, he was with her. For whatever reason, he was there. And it made her happy. It might not have made him happy, but it didn’t seem to make him unhappy, either. It was such a shame the moment wouldn’t last. Her time at Galbadia wouldn’t last. Two weeks. 14 days. 336 hours in total. No counting, no counting. God, don’t count. “You’ll come visit me, won’t you?” The question slipped from her lips before she could stop it and she winced slightly. “You don’t have to answer that.” They weren’t even that close, not really. Why would he spend so much gil, so many hours on a train just to see her? They weren’t close, and yet he held her like they were. She found it difficult to stop dancing with him even though the thought of others was long gone from her mind. They weren’t close, and she wasn’t counting, and, and... “Write to me, at least. And promise me we’ll have one last Triple Triad battle before I leave?” She smiled, but she looked so sad. She hadn’t expected to have found someone to miss. “Unless you’re afraid I’ll beat you and you won’t have a way to rematch.” It was easier to jab at him than to admit that she didn’t want to go so soon. It was easier than admitting to him that she had wanted to dance with him because it was him. It was easier. It was so hard. She couldn’t stop counting.

[croweoftheglaive]

❝ i don’t understand, but i want to try. ❞ (from decayinghonour)

“And you’re not gonna understand until you cut that shit out.”

Left hand gestures vaguely toward the bottle Vidar holds  —  bad day once again sidestepped, drowned in liquor.  Addiction, she reminds herself, dependency;  makes it no less frustrating, there’s no balm to soothe the sting of the fact that he’d rather drink his demons ( and himself ) senseless before confiding in her.

“Ditch the bottle, sober up, then we can talk.  Until then, this conversation is over.”

(  things that you want to hear  —  @decayinghonour  )

[corditeheart]

@decayinghonour

It's the beginning of fall, and it's still so hot that Seifer thinks he might actually melt into the ground the second he steps out of the house.

Hence, the arrangement to meet up after dark, when the sun is banished beyond the horizon, and the air cools by just enough that putting on a clean shirt without it getting immediately soaked in sweat is a reasonable expectation. He guides his motorcycle through the narrow streets, parks, digs takeout and the coldest six-pack he could find out of the saddlebags, and finds his way upstairs, to Vidar's door.

It's late, but it doesn't matter. Sleep is an elusive, fickle thing as of late, and if he's going to chase the dawn yet again, better to do it in someone else's company.

"Hey," he greets, holding up his offerings. "I come bearing gifts."