#v. 002.

[wantsflight]

— a caller arrives in the form of @americanedpsycho.

a rite of passage for all university students: the hours long stint in a pub — BAR, whatever they call it here — regretting every decision that's led to ever having dreams or pursuing something bigger than where they've come from. eloise convinced herself that she would be different. oh, how wrong she was. "YOU KNOW WHAT'S CRAZY?" and maybe she's a bit drunk, needing to vent to someone and the only other person remotely close to her sits just a stool or two away. a stranger, with one glance a reasonably headed eloise wouldn't bother engaging in a conversation with. he'll do. "people make out university abroad to be some dream, ' move to america and you'll find yourself ', and... iss' not true." she doesn't care if he's listening. "and i moved here for an ENGLISH DEGREE. what kinda fuckin' rubbish is that? who the fuck moves across an ocean to read books & analyze text that you could do ANYWHERE?"

[manumerc]

@enginaer​

“ need  a  hand ? ”     she  could  already  tell  from  minimal  observation  that  the  girl  was  good  with  her  hands ;  she  had  also  heard  other  members  of  the  rebellion  talk  about  how  good  of  an  engineer  she  was .  while  lyra  was  good  with  a  blaster ,  she  could  stand  to  learn  a  thing  or  two  about  mechanics  and  engineering ,  and  she  thought  the  girl  might  be  a  good  teacher .     “ i  can’t  promise  i’ll  be  much  help ,  but  i’m  happy  to  try  if  you  need  it . ”

[styls]

                         his  breath  comes  rushing  in  and  out  like  haphazard  waves  beneath  a  stormy  sky  ;              catching  in  his  chest  and  sputtering  past  trembling  lips  .                 please    ----------    please   !            his  head  feels  like  it’s  swirling  with  a  blinding  HEAT ,       feels  like  lapping  flames  encompasses  his  entire  brain  ,         and  stiles  suspects  he  may  spontaneously  combust  right  then  &  there  .         it  always  STARTS  like  this  ;       a  steady  pressure  building  in  capacity  behind  his  eyes  until  he  is  drowning .

                     “   s  ---------  scott ,  ”             the  boy  gasps  ,         hoping  to  catch  his  best  friend’s  attention  before  he  might  topple  over  entirely ,      both  hands  darting  out  to  either  side   ;       one  clutches  the  wall beside  him  for  purchase ,         the  other  reaching  to  bundle  a  quivering  fist  in  the  young  wolf’s  shirt  .          “   wait  ,      ah ,     stop  -----  ”      i  can’t  breathe   !

@mccaels

[bladehoard]

I have worn nothing but blood and death for years. [@sineatcr]

magenta eyes scrutinized a old gold. a demon of his past. clawing his way into an icebred heart that long since feared beating. once upon a  time that ran red with blood and pink from love. once upon a time. life and death danced a tragic tango. knives to eachothers back. not everyone may remain. 

though, ardyn and his life had taken similar tragic paths it had pulled them so far. none the same. never will be. and frankly, gilgamesh was far over trying to return to his past. better was he a lost cause with in the realm of the void rather a shield or father. it was true. all defending had led to everything he had performed to be one of vain.

despite it all, both donned the same blood and death. their own life reeked of disgust and the reapers scent. drifting others into some sort of torment or demise. a sigh parted from his lips, as if having difficulty to confront this truth. furthermore, a old lover and a failed liege. he could not even remember the vibrant smile he use to don daily. and every day did that burn with in his chambers. burn like holy water or light upon his skin. he’s sorry. he’s sorry. 

           for you, the world. for you. my life. for you. for you.

a mantra. never before said. it kept his motors strong as a shield. a phrase he never forgets. long after his calling was fulfilled.

he could almost say something as sincere as so. almost. however, his tongue deceives him. too stiff of poison and self doubt.

‘   i . . . ‘  i’m sorry .  ‘  i as well live suffering .  life cradled in the breast of the reaper. a constant cycle of dying and living. a limbo. . . perhaps.  ‘

‘  however. . . none of us deserved anything that we recieved.  ‘

he could see your soul . hurt. crying. bitter. aching. it could make an army falter with sympathy.

‘  what happened to you was never your fault. a heart bred of diamond and life. . . too good for us all. ‘

@sineatcr

[bladehoard]

I belong here, and you will not deny me.

‘ hmm ‘

guttural and enthusiastic, he tilts his head at an angle. a slow blink displays disinterest even further. everyone says something similar when they meet the blade master. all sought to claim the title of righteous, but no one brought anything new. results were always the same.

‘  then die by my blade.   ‘

@lockedfighter

[bladehoard]

I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. I have tried. [@sineatcr]

perhaps so. a world emptied of the blade master. it sounded like a relieve. a death that gilgamesh could not receive himself. not with immortality touching his veins. rooting him to the world that parasites him of inspiration, motivation, and will. loneliness does that to you. his breath proceeds him while silence over looks them both. self doubt had befriended him. he doubt he can hold these words as true from his dear liege. despite his flame of affection relighting for ardyn through the ice that once killed it. better yet, paused it.

‘  you alone have decreed much of your presence upon the stone of significance. your needed not my help.   ‘

‘  you can tolerate with out me just as the world forgets snow ‘pon winters.  ‘

@sineatcr