9 years ago
These wings aren't really here, they're just the trick of the light.
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
The joys and wonders of 1st person one-shots
12:23 AM
Finals are coming up and I'm a little anxious, to tell you the truth. And, not to mention, I feel like everything is about to change. The whole week is going to be weird, I just know it.
At the moment, I should be working on what I have to get done by the time the semester's over and on studying too, but, I feel like jotting down a few words to loosen the mind. I really don't want to do anything, it's a three day weekend! But, I have to or else ._.
So here's something for/from the pseudo universe of The Wingless.
Word of caution: Some existentialist-type stuff ahead. o_o Or just psycho-stuff idk.
"Do you believe yourself to be real?"
"Do you think for other people?"
"Do you do things for the sake of yourself?"
The questions they asked me were mere buzzes in the back of my head. I haven't been able to hear ever since I woke up. Even that, I'm not sure of. Maybe, I've been awake the whole time but just haven't realized.
"Am I real? Or am I a fake?"
"It's cold. It's thick. I can't move my hands."
"I see red."
Did I do something wrong? Even though... I'm not sure what wrong is. But I know, that on their faces are the faces of anger and dislike. I don't want to look at them. They make me think of bad things. Negative things... Of the times, the time, when I figured out -
That everybody hates me.
"What is worth? What is a name?"
"My name means nothing. But somehow they found me."
"There's a hundred other people with this name."
But within closed eye, I am able to see, my fabrications of their faces, just like I do with everybody else. People, as you know, wear masks. So I see masks, nothing but masks, and they float around like phantoms. The masks frown at my unwillingness to speak.
"Do you remember the feeling? The smell of smoke..."
"The feeling of deciding another's fate..."
"How it slaked your desire to feel important?"
This voice was empowering. It gave me direction.
"But once isn't enough."
"You cannot be satisfied with one."
"You must take another and another, until your hands overflow with the fates of others -"
It gave me confidence, gave me meaning and truth - that's what I told myself - but inside, I knew, that what I was doing was wrong in the society we live in today. Yet, even then, I asked myself, why should I listen? Why should I follow their rules?
I am nervous. My hands are shaking uncontrollably.
"-and till then will you feel better."
I shake my head. I can hear them shout and scream hateful things at me.
"That is... Until you get the feeling again."
I open my eyes. A heavy hand slammed the desk before me. Upon impact, my eyes were drawn to theirs, thick folds accenting the bridge of the nose, narrowing the eyes. They looked upon me with the eyes of judgment.
"How could you deny what you've already testified?" he asked me, impatient, "And what countless witnesses have already said? Just tell us why. Why did you do it?"
I covered my face to hide those eyes. I knew this would happen, that others would look at me like I didn't belong. Like I truly did something wrong when it was just something I wanted to do. What I felt I had to do. My feelings had to be put into place somehow. I just didn't think that it would end up like this.
Earlier... I said that people had masks. I am not an exception. This particular mask moved according to the tone of the voice and what they said. To me, the mask smiled:
"You can't escape it."
"It's a need, your personal drug. And it cannot go unsatisfied."
"You want to kill. You -"
"-must kill. For the sake of myself I must."
The child before me was not in the right state of mind. Their hands shook, their eyes wild and wide... I pitied this child and what they went through to end up in such a state.
"I...wanted to kill...in order...to feel...real."
"I felt real. I want to be real. I want to exist."
"I wanted to do something that mattered."
I looked at my companion and saw my reaction mirrored in their eyes. Shock and awe. I turned back to the child, shivering in their seat. It was all too fluid to be fake, too smooth to be a ruse.
They looked especially troubled.
"I don't want this," they said quietly, "I don't. I don't want to kill...anymore."
...The pseudo-universe, in my eyes, is crazy. A lot of weird things happen, a lot of deaths, a lot of events having to do with morals and etc. etc. And I'll say that they derive from my experiences and my thoughts...and apparently my art too, as it's being affected by this delightfully f-ed up thinking of mine (as somebody commented personally a few days ago). So I'm going along with it, as you could probably tell.
I've also discovered the wonderful world of 1st person, and how easier it flows on the keyboard. it just so happens that when I write in 3rd person, my head hurts after a while because, with the way it is, my mind has been unable to "sit still" as of late (which is troubling). o_o Some last thoughts...
I think writing a happy ending will be the toughest thing I will ever do (it will happen, just expect the world to end by that time). :)
At the moment, I should be working on what I have to get done by the time the semester's over and on studying too, but, I feel like jotting down a few words to loosen the mind. I really don't want to do anything, it's a three day weekend! But, I have to or else ._.
So here's something for/from the pseudo universe of The Wingless.
Word of caution: Some existentialist-type stuff ahead. o_o Or just psycho-stuff idk.
- - -
"Do you believe yourself to be real?"
"Do you think for other people?"
"Do you do things for the sake of yourself?"
The questions they asked me were mere buzzes in the back of my head. I haven't been able to hear ever since I woke up. Even that, I'm not sure of. Maybe, I've been awake the whole time but just haven't realized.
"Am I real? Or am I a fake?"
"It's cold. It's thick. I can't move my hands."
"I see red."
Did I do something wrong? Even though... I'm not sure what wrong is. But I know, that on their faces are the faces of anger and dislike. I don't want to look at them. They make me think of bad things. Negative things... Of the times, the time, when I figured out -
That everybody hates me.
"What is worth? What is a name?"
"My name means nothing. But somehow they found me."
"There's a hundred other people with this name."
But within closed eye, I am able to see, my fabrications of their faces, just like I do with everybody else. People, as you know, wear masks. So I see masks, nothing but masks, and they float around like phantoms. The masks frown at my unwillingness to speak.
"Do you remember the feeling? The smell of smoke..."
"The feeling of deciding another's fate..."
"How it slaked your desire to feel important?"
This voice was empowering. It gave me direction.
"But once isn't enough."
"You cannot be satisfied with one."
"You must take another and another, until your hands overflow with the fates of others -"
It gave me confidence, gave me meaning and truth - that's what I told myself - but inside, I knew, that what I was doing was wrong in the society we live in today. Yet, even then, I asked myself, why should I listen? Why should I follow their rules?
I am nervous. My hands are shaking uncontrollably.
"-and till then will you feel better."
I shake my head. I can hear them shout and scream hateful things at me.
"That is... Until you get the feeling again."
I open my eyes. A heavy hand slammed the desk before me. Upon impact, my eyes were drawn to theirs, thick folds accenting the bridge of the nose, narrowing the eyes. They looked upon me with the eyes of judgment.
"How could you deny what you've already testified?" he asked me, impatient, "And what countless witnesses have already said? Just tell us why. Why did you do it?"
I covered my face to hide those eyes. I knew this would happen, that others would look at me like I didn't belong. Like I truly did something wrong when it was just something I wanted to do. What I felt I had to do. My feelings had to be put into place somehow. I just didn't think that it would end up like this.
Earlier... I said that people had masks. I am not an exception. This particular mask moved according to the tone of the voice and what they said. To me, the mask smiled:
"You can't escape it."
"It's a need, your personal drug. And it cannot go unsatisfied."
"You want to kill. You -"
- - -
"-must kill. For the sake of myself I must."
The child before me was not in the right state of mind. Their hands shook, their eyes wild and wide... I pitied this child and what they went through to end up in such a state.
"I...wanted to kill...in order...to feel...real."
"I felt real. I want to be real. I want to exist."
"I wanted to do something that mattered."
I looked at my companion and saw my reaction mirrored in their eyes. Shock and awe. I turned back to the child, shivering in their seat. It was all too fluid to be fake, too smooth to be a ruse.
They looked especially troubled.
"I don't want this," they said quietly, "I don't. I don't want to kill...anymore."
- - -
...The pseudo-universe, in my eyes, is crazy. A lot of weird things happen, a lot of deaths, a lot of events having to do with morals and etc. etc. And I'll say that they derive from my experiences and my thoughts...and apparently my art too, as it's being affected by this delightfully f-ed up thinking of mine (as somebody commented personally a few days ago). So I'm going along with it, as you could probably tell.
I've also discovered the wonderful world of 1st person, and how easier it flows on the keyboard. it just so happens that when I write in 3rd person, my head hurts after a while because, with the way it is, my mind has been unable to "sit still" as of late (which is troubling). o_o Some last thoughts...
I think writing a happy ending will be the toughest thing I will ever do (it will happen, just expect the world to end by that time). :)
Klaude's Castle
1:02 PM
I said I was going to write today so here I am trying to start it off with a one-shot (or something of the sort). There will be an actual blog post soon (if I manage my time right). So here you go, a story written right on the spot out of a list I have of titles along with their possible stories.
. . .
Klaude's Castle
Act I, Scene I
Klaude's Castle
Act I, Scene I
Where the heroine dreams up a name.
There's a land far from our reach where magical entities reign. Where people are able to harness such energies as their craft and other such entities created by magic are the norm. Those people are called magicians and this world is called Acadia. Though each individual has these powerful elements under their control, they are given a set of rules to follow.
Some are plain ridiculous, such as:
And the list goes on and on... But, there are some rather serious rules too. For example:
And that list goes on as well.
But that list is nothing to the Mortal world, nor do they acknowledge the fact that such a list exists. They do know that there is a certain magician (for the magical world they are somewhat aware - awareness has been going down since the Resurgence) causing trouble in the land and that there might be the Mortal world's prince held captive there, stolen from the castle a year or so ago. And as the Queen bore two sons, the other prince is safely guarded while numerous armies sought the magician whenever he decided to appear.
This business however, is unseen by the Council (who are, ironically, supposed to be able to See everything) and goes unattended. Normally, this would be a cause for concern if only, say, their world was in the midst of a war... And they, coincidentally, were.
Magicians, in truth, had no interest/business with the Mortals but this magician made it his business for reasons unknown. Besides staving off the armies on a semi-regular basis (or anyone that was sent or willingly volunteered - the fools) the magician roamed the lands in his equally moving castle (or floating castle since it's enormous shadow could be mistaken for the clouds constantly present in the sky).
No one knew the magicians' name - not his real name - but he was definitely a man, and quite a looker by rumors and such. Others said he was ugly, grotesque, a despicable man who liked to drink as much as he liked the young women. Then there were those that said he was absent-minded, a dreamer, someone who rarely smiled but if they did then your heart would stop in an instant - it doesn't help when the women are the ones gossiping about this peculiar magician but rumors are rumors and should be considered...to an extent.
This, all of this, she knew. The list, the existence of the world beyond and of the magician. She also knew of the captive prince and of the war - she believed the theory that the clouds were there because of the war - and she knew something about this magician that the others didn't (though she herself did not know the importance of it).
This magicians' name was Klaude - pronounced as one would say "cloud" - and she found this out in a dream.
Some are plain ridiculous, such as:
1. No wooden houses, furniture, or other perishable (burnable) objects allowed in public or in the home. If one desires to have such objects in their possession, one must file for a permit (in which a fee is administered, for the permit and for how many objects of such perishable nature are under the owner's possession). If one were to be found with perishable objects, they shall be fined - 1,000 crowns worth for every single piece (that includes wooden chips).
2. Do not run with staves or any such magical object with a temper (translated: do not run with magical objects in public - if you're by yourself that is fine (but that too isn't recommended)).
3. No enchanted pointy objects (like scissors - unless you are a hairdresser).
And the list goes on and on... But, there are some rather serious rules too. For example:
1. Absolutely no descending to Mortal grounds without a specific reason filed to the Council. Everyone (of considerable status) is given one day (seven in Mortal time) for the entire year (once every 52 days). If and ever that time is not enough, you must have a permit (and reasonable answer/request as to why).
2. No consorting with the Mortals or bringing one along. You will be arrested and the Mortal will be executed.
3. Absolutely no displays of magical power when among the Mortals. You will be arrested and convicted for Treason (meaning, you will be executed no matter what).
And that list goes on as well.
But that list is nothing to the Mortal world, nor do they acknowledge the fact that such a list exists. They do know that there is a certain magician (for the magical world they are somewhat aware - awareness has been going down since the Resurgence) causing trouble in the land and that there might be the Mortal world's prince held captive there, stolen from the castle a year or so ago. And as the Queen bore two sons, the other prince is safely guarded while numerous armies sought the magician whenever he decided to appear.
This business however, is unseen by the Council (who are, ironically, supposed to be able to See everything) and goes unattended. Normally, this would be a cause for concern if only, say, their world was in the midst of a war... And they, coincidentally, were.
Magicians, in truth, had no interest/business with the Mortals but this magician made it his business for reasons unknown. Besides staving off the armies on a semi-regular basis (or anyone that was sent or willingly volunteered - the fools) the magician roamed the lands in his equally moving castle (or floating castle since it's enormous shadow could be mistaken for the clouds constantly present in the sky).
No one knew the magicians' name - not his real name - but he was definitely a man, and quite a looker by rumors and such. Others said he was ugly, grotesque, a despicable man who liked to drink as much as he liked the young women. Then there were those that said he was absent-minded, a dreamer, someone who rarely smiled but if they did then your heart would stop in an instant - it doesn't help when the women are the ones gossiping about this peculiar magician but rumors are rumors and should be considered...to an extent.
This, all of this, she knew. The list, the existence of the world beyond and of the magician. She also knew of the captive prince and of the war - she believed the theory that the clouds were there because of the war - and she knew something about this magician that the others didn't (though she herself did not know the importance of it).
This magicians' name was Klaude - pronounced as one would say "cloud" - and she found this out in a dream.
Heaven's Night—"There's still happiness"
9:11 PM
Uncertainties & shaky hands
make for a nervous gait
but who's eyes broaden upon the lands
searching for the road to Dream
Another SongPost just for fun. :) And because I like linking stuff even if I've linked them before (check post True). Not a lot is going on and I've been reading about the USSR like crazy for a History paper and other things and the information is kind of overwhelming but it's all good. Just found out I might be going to Canada this summer... More characterization and sad stuff *hits self b/c she can't write anything not sad and depressing*. Darn Silent Hill music. I love it so much.
xD Can you tell I'm trying to avoid using the character names?
make for a nervous gait
but who's eyes broaden upon the lands
searching for the road to Dream
Another SongPost just for fun. :) And because I like linking stuff even if I've linked them before (check post True). Not a lot is going on and I've been reading about the USSR like crazy for a History paper and other things and the information is kind of overwhelming but it's all good. Just found out I might be going to Canada this summer... More characterization and sad stuff *hits self b/c she can't write anything not sad and depressing*. Darn Silent Hill music. I love it so much.
xD Can you tell I'm trying to avoid using the character names?
+ + + Heaven's Night—"There's still happiness"
The Heaven's Night festival was held on this one day of the year where everyone, since this being a very small town, would gather in the highest clearing, yards from the town. It was called "One Star Hill" because of the myth that a star fell there long ago in the past that made the land what it was. The town's name isn't that special and has had a history of conquerors and battalions trampling over this land for the people beyond—those that have reason to call trouble like that, the ones with fortifications and riches beyond us peasants. As a whole, this town has been rebuilt over and over all because of the motto the council chose thusly: In somnis veritas or "In dreams there is truth."
It was said that this town was the epitome of dreams, where you are able to dream because how this town functions looks all so simple...from the surface. But I'm not saying that I know how and what the council deals with on a daily basis but everyone that lives here has so much pride and hope for this tiny town...
Dreams. Hope. Heaven's Night... All make me think of fairytales. Can this town, it's civilians; is this all a big fairytale? If that's so, let it stay that way, if not for me then for everyone else.
The street on which I walk now, the narrow paved path with quaint dusty brown buildings lining the sides. Steel and iron painted a shiny black were the lights that appeared at so-and-so interval of pavement, baskets of greenery and fragrant flowers brightening the path. The sun was just setting so the lights themselves were being lit one by one as I walked past this all too familiar road.
Many people I knew passed me by, all huddled close with their companions and shivering in their coats and gloves. Though enamored with their lover or in a heated conversation, they gave me a short glance before turning away. Smiles, small and maybe even hopeful, were etched on their faces. I knew what they were thinking about. I knew that they knew where I was going, who I was visiting; they'd seen me far too often. I blushed, pulling my cap down at the same time.
The more I walked, the more and more empty the street became. Buildings began to disperse as wider, loner snowscapes met my eye and trees spotted the white all around me. My hands in my pockets I continued this dirt path, trudging on the incline. A carriage just passed me by; I heard the whistling and chugging of a train in the distance. It was close now, the house, though a bit near the mouth of the woods, gated but tiny—a cottage. The husband worked in the town, the mother stayed at home, she stayed at home as well, save for the occasion of school.
I'd met her a very long time ago and had been by her since then with the permission of her parents. I with my father by my side and my mother gone with a lover and a child of her own—a brother can you believe that? With the two being acquainted in business ventures and both on good terms, I was able to come and go to their house at any time. I remember my father laughing at how suddenly active I'd become since I was born not in the best of health...
And here I am now, about to knock on the door. From here I could hear a faint singing, footsteps and the crackling of a fire. I knocked and in a few seconds the mother, with her kind but wan face, let me in with a smile, urging me to sit by the fire and rest. I did and could never have been more thankful.+ + +
It was a dark clear sky with no moon. The only lights we could see were from the stars and the square in the town accompanied with low cheers and music. Eventually, one by one, the lights would shut off and the civilians, with candles in their hands resembling fireflies in the summer, would make the pilgrimage to the hill and watch the sky. There were groups and broken lines, like blotches in the snow, who'd sit quietly or play around for everything was silent and their joyous cries could be heard miles away—where we were sitting.
It would stay like that until the night air became unbearable but till then, a fire would be created and everyone would sit closer to hear the stories and myths of olde from the mouths of the civilians themselves. While that happened, the lights of the patrol could be seen fading in and out of the dark crevices of the town, guards were posted by the possible entrances where any danger but that rarely happened.
The bench we were sitting on was crafted by my father but the location as to which it was to be placed was suggested by Leander, her father. His excuse was because it was always nice to look out from a high place. And it's wonderful, especially in the springtime when all the greenery and flowers looked their finest. Now that I think about it...it does sound like a fairytale. I mentioned this to her and she smiled but she seemed more lost in her thoughts. I asked her what was wrong and she snapped back to her normal self.
"Everything is fine," she had said. People said that when they were not fine.
I didn't push the subject. There was something about living for so long with this girl that made one almost know what she was thinking in a single glance. There was also the definite tightening of the edges of her lips; sometimes they'd be little tugs, as if all she wanted to do at the moment was frown. Then there was a certain look to her face and—as if aware of the deep slant of her brow—the modest dip of her head caused her hair to partially obscure her profile where she, following that, would brush it over her ear with white frozen fingers. The slant looked less severe but it remained nonetheless.
She was definitely not saying something that needed to be said. And I, noticing how this observation of her mannerisms struck me as a little...creepy. Turning away, even though she hadn't noticed my staring, I thought of what I could do. She was the type to, say, "suffer quietly." Even then, when we first met, she was quiet around other children and was always left behind like a shadow. When she was alone with her mother and father, she was the opposite... Maybe it has something to do with her parents... Probably—
"What are you thinking about?" Her voice clear and loud in the silence, like the hourly bells.
Her face was turned towards me... Has she been like that for some time? I pulled my cap closer. I thought of what I'd been doing earlier and couldn't help but be guilty.
She then looked to the gathering below, leaning forward, then she looked up. She gasped. Breaking out into a wide smile, she suddenly took my arm, the same one still holding onto the cap. Startled, the thing practically flew from my fingers to the snowy ground. I really should keep a better grip on that hat really...
"Did you see? Did you see?" she said, exasperated.
I shook my head. I asked her what it was it she saw and she replied—
"It was a shooting star... No. There were two—no"—she blinked, trying to recall the number of stars she saw fall—"Oh, there were a couple I know but one of them was very bright, like it was going to crash onto the hill like the myth."
I replied that it was probably a good omen and that the town was going to prosper. That everyone was guaranteed happiness since the year was ending soon.
She was still for a moment, her smile diminishing into a grin. Then, she nodded, leaving my side in order to pick up the hat, brushing the snow from the material. Instead of giving the hat to me she put it on, mimicking the walk and talk of a man. We laughed and she seemed to be in better spirits, sitting back down with a satisfied exhale as a chill shook her frame. She returned the hat to me as she relaxed onto the bench. I could see that the revelry was but a temporary reprieve from her thoughts for she looked as if she was about to cry... I hesitated but I placed the hat over her head, her sad eyes.
I thought she was going to smile, maybe even laugh and take "revenge" as she always did. But she didn't. She took my arm as before and leaned on it, the cap stayed so I couldn't see much but her nose and the tip of her chin. Soon, tears rolled from her cheeks and she'd inhale through her nose constantly, her grip round my arm tightening—if it was any tighter bloodflow would stop entirely in it's tracks. But it didn't hurt.
I really didn't mind but I felt as if she expected something from me and I felt idiotic that I couldn't just read her mind and find out how to offer solace on what she wouldn't tell me.+ + +
We both sat there, the crowd dispersing slowly. Some lights, the streetlights mainly, were turned on in the town, there were some lights in some of the buildings too. She still wouldn't say anything but the tears had stopped. Her breathing was still uneven but, other than that, she was all right.
"Look up," I said, "Before the stars are gone."
She didn't. This, and my overall helplessness in these kinds of situations was slightly irritating me. I knew that there were things that people were supposed to and not supposed to do when in situations like this, or so I've heard. Then there was the fact that I had no idea what she was so worried and sad about... I took the plunge and just asked.
She had to repeat her answer, having to clear her throat first because her voice was watered down—"Mama is dying."
So it did have something to do with her parents... Ah, I still felt like an idiot and wanted to die in some obscure place. Again, she went against my expectations and looked at me with those large watery eyes but only for a second. She looked away, down, onto her lap then went ahead to removing the cap hitting me square in the face with it.
"But I'm all right now"—she amended with a half-hearted smile—"There's still happiness...for her. Sure. It'll take a while before I—Daddy and I—get over her...death... But we'll be by her side when she goes, wherever she goes...and we'll remember her too"—she grew quiet, her words coming out as whispers easily lost in a wind, if there was one—"as if she never died." Tears began to fall but she caught each with the swipe of her hands and cuffs and sleeves. "I have...hope"—she began shortly after—"that she'll be fine. And if she's fine then we are too."
Her body, as she talked, became stiff. Her back didn't touch the bench, her hands tense over her knees, her boots together like those who marched in the civil militia... She can't return to that girl again...the one who stood farthest from the group of schoolchildren. The one who refused to say a word unless she was called on by an instructor... I lightly placed my gloved hand over hers, turning it over so our fingers entwined and as I moved to lean on her shoulder, startling her, I said quietly but clearly—
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do but I do know that I'll be there for you—my father and I will be there for when it's just you two. However, remember that you can't keep this all to yourself. I don't want you to be like me, to end up like me, secretly despising other families because they had a mother along with a father." I couldn't help but say it out loud. If there was any chance for her being more open to me then I had to do the same for her. She loved her mother, and I had some love for mine under a smoldering hatred of her leaving...
"Then," she said, "did you hate me as well?"
"I hated everybody, honestly"—my voice lowered suddenly, as if I'd lost the will to even speak—"but I could never hate you. I can't hate anybody now." I moved from her side but our hands remained intact.
Her voice too lowered, the same went for her eyes. Her hand went tense under mine. "Why is that?" She repeated herself even though I heard her fine, stronger and uncertain.
"Because I couldn't find someone who could prove me wrong. You can't hate your parents, even if they did something wrong. I saw you with yours, saw how happy you were, and felt, at first, so much anger but found out after how sad I really was. What I'm trying to say is that I found you—even though you didn't know—but you have me there—here—already. Understand?" I wasn't sure how these words got out—nor was I sure if I understood them correctly (though it made more sense the less I thought about it)—but it seemed to be working.
She was set at ease after but I had a drop of regret for not thinking over my words. I mean, there's something wrong when words just come out of your mouth right? Words you didn't know you could say?
She said something and I couldn't hear because I was lost in my thoughts. I asked her to say it again.
"There's still happiness."+ + +
That was the last Heaven's Night we spent together. She and her father had moved several months into the fall to one of the walled cities beyond this tiny town.+ + +
Dreams. Hope. Heaven's Night... All make me think of fairytales. Can this town, it's civilians; is this all a big fairytale? If that's so, let it stay that way, if not for me then for everyone else. Then if not for everyone else, let it be so for her.
True
2:38 PM
I'm giving myself an excuse to post despite my exhaustion from this weekend. Here's a SongPost to get the pen going on paper (or hands on keyboard since I've been writing on paper the whole day so far). Please excuse the weirdness...just a characterization thing.
Funny how things go somewhat smoothly during state test time. Well, maybe the schedules are a bit strange but it's the flow of ideas. In this case, story ideas. I'm like reeaallly close to getting a plot/chapter overview done but that doesn't count the subplots for that one certain rewrite. I'm still unsure of the name though Love of Fate now that I thought of it more it doesn't make sense and Lost Heaven is slightly better and the song of the same name (which was a coincidence) sort of fits into the theme I'm going for it. *shrugs* I'll see how it goes.
+ + + True
The walls shield a secret that can never be told.
Humiliation.
Insubordination.
Hands tied in submission.
Rage.
The light flickering overhead only emphasized the figure on the edge of the bed with hands clasped in meditation. Nevertheless, his hands could never be far apart, not even for a feet or two. The same went for the binding at his ankles.
He lifted his head. There were keys and the faint rusted push of the door. He might have heard it more clearly if his ears weren't boxed in the last time they visited. Just by thinking about it brought the pain back, an odd pulsing in his head. If he wanted to raise his hands to his forehead there might have been blood or a scar. There wasn't. If he were to do that, there wouldn't be a cut or a sensitive bump, there would be bandages and cloth. Cringing, his eyes met theirs but...it wasn't who he was expecting. So he relaxed.
It was just a boy, he didn't seem to mean any harm. Plus, the keys to all the cells were in his possession. The aura about him radiated kindness, rather than the malignant ones he had envisioned as his very doom. He really should've kept a clear head about this.
The boy neared with hesitant steps, his hands were visibly shaking as he picked through the keys quietly. He held out his chained hands. The boy seemed set to free him.
Idiotic? Maybe. How long has it been since he had been imprisoned... How long since they kept harassing their kind for answers that they didn't know? The aftermath; it built their rage. Our rage, he thought, is what makes us whole. Makes us who we are. And yet, there was this human boy who showed the only speck of kindness ever since that time. Hopefully, the others will have enough reason to not bare their fangs against those who never meant to harm us. The world would die quick if the innocent were to fall past their time.
There was a scream, a girl far in the same hall. The boy quickened in removing the heavy chains and bindings wrapped round the lower half of his face and his hands. Slowly, little by little, the weight would lessen and his strength would return.
"I don't know you," he whispered, "but I know you want to get out of here. First, please, you must save my sister."
A grateful smile came upon his lips, revealing the sharp white teeth that could render through flesh. And then, came the first words he had said in a long time. "Child, I thank you. But allow me to save my brethren as well." The boy quickly gave him the keys.
"Please, you have to hurry."
He stood, towering in height. The boy however, was fearless. He was going to do it anyway, save his sister. The man who had her was one of the first humans he had encountered and, through a misunderstanding, was the very same who imprisoned him. In a sense, it was he who sent his comrades in this pit of a human jail because then, hordes of armed humans pursued them when they meant no harm.
They suffered because of him, now he was going to let them out. The only problem was whether they were going to trust him again...
He turned his attention to the boy, wondering how the hell he knew about this prison, about them... Unless, there was something going on. Something big.
But that would have to wait.
Funny how things go somewhat smoothly during state test time. Well, maybe the schedules are a bit strange but it's the flow of ideas. In this case, story ideas. I'm like reeaallly close to getting a plot/chapter overview done but that doesn't count the subplots for that one certain rewrite. I'm still unsure of the name though Love of Fate now that I thought of it more it doesn't make sense and Lost Heaven is slightly better and the song of the same name (which was a coincidence) sort of fits into the theme I'm going for it. *shrugs* I'll see how it goes.
Shout it Out
10:23 PMI believe that deeds speak louder than words. I'm afraid of being left behind and thus bring others down with me. Optimism and Pessimism is just another way of describing the weights over your Left and Right shoulder. I feel I can't cry because it'll deem me a weakling. I like screaming into a pillow or else I'll be reprimanded for making noise. The one person I really hate is myself because that's the person that hates everyone else. And blames everyone else. I bring myself down. A person I love is myself because it balances out the hatred. Fairytales are real. I take words and re-invent the meaning. Call me old fashioned because...well, I am. I may like Japanese things but I am not a Japanophile. Open-mindedness is key to understanding all life but to know absolutely everything about life is absurd. I want to shoot Raskolnikov because he's too much like me (Goddammit it. Why Rodion Romanovich? Goddammit why?!) I often ask people how it would be like if everyone was their opposite gender.... Think about it. I had a dream where I jumped off a building. Right when I landed, I woke up by the shock that ran through my body. I had that dream in class. Aglaia Ivanovna is one of the female characters I can most relate with because Prince Lev Nikolaevich Myshkin is love. I've contemplated suicide but I knew I couldn't do it because I knew it was stupid. Stories are for children, I've been told, so let me stay as one for a while longer. I had imaginary friends when I was small. Frankly, I'm lonely, but that's because I miss people I shouldn't be missing. I have this wild notion that one day a prince will swoop me off my feet and take me away...seriously now, how many times does that happen? I believe it anyway. I am not afraid of commitment. I'm just in denial that people actually like me. I hate my real name. My pseudonym is created from my first, middle and last names. Cell phones are overrated and costly and I vowed to never have one until I was old enough to pay for one myself...my parents got me one anyways. Darn. I'm scared to DEATH by spiders or anything with more legs than necessary. I'm nocturnal. I can't dance but I try, and fail, HORRIBLY. I like the waltz. Lace and flowy dresses is a love I keep to myself. People think I'm emo. I'm not. I'm me so get it straight. I'm a Psychological Horror enthusiast. I cover the walls of my room with pictures and drawings so, when I come home, I know someone wants me home. I've walked one hour in the rain to go home once and liked it. I sing terribly but that doesn't stop me. I blame myself too much. I want someone to tell me it's okay and that everything's going to be all right and MEAN IT. My characters are what make me get out of bed in the morning. They tire of me overstaying my welcome in my dreams. I can't hold on to anything good for me because I purposely want someone to hate me so I can hate myself. I absolutely dislike the slamming of doors or any variation of loud noises. It reminds me too much of when my tyrannical mother would scream and shout about the little things. My door was kicked down because I said the wrong thing at the wrong time. Go figure. I had hands wrapped round my throat as I was on the ground, and all because I was crying. A certain someone was witness to this and didn't do a thing. Begging for forgiveness helps but my pride took a hard hit. I can't trust anyone but myself. It isn't official but I'm insane, if not that, then I'm slowly going mad. I want to run away so so badly but I know there's nowhere for me to go. The only hell and heaven there is is what you define them to be. If I did something wrong, I did something wrong, it doesn't matter what you think. I'm scared of the dark because I remember what I don't want to remember. I want to fall asleep and never wake up. Someday I'll grow wings and fly away.
Raison d'être
11:04 PM+ + + Raison d'être—reason for being
Just a little "dabble." I've had angel stories since I started writing so I thought it'd be a nice change of pace from what I've been writing about so far.
Monochrome images told him the past. It was peaceful, always, when he looked back. The peal of childlike laughter, the gentle warmth of sunshine and two hands clasped together in friendship. All had once played a part in his, if not everyone else's life.
They were...insufficient, the quality in which he saw those images. Faces, voices, were distorted beyond recognition. What once was warm and friendly—what once was happy—brought sadness and confusion.
A blurry smile. A flower tucked in the crook of their ear...
Fading away and away and away...like a trick of the light, till she was gone.
+ + +
"He's run away!"
Crash! Will's hand slipped, the delicate porcelain that harbored the morning's fresh tea dropped to the floor. Her left eyebrow twitched in rage as she met the frightened maid's eyes. It was then that the news had been confirmed. Esra escaped.
And through the window no less, she thought as she investigated the scene. Her hand drifted over the wooden countertop where Esra's belongings laid just last night... She opened one of the drawers underneath. Gone. She cursed under her breath, crossing her arms as she leaned onto the counter.
Will had kept that blasted gun under lock and key. Esra, with his strength, broke it without a sweat. It was stupid to think that a measly lock can stop a being of his caliber but she thought... Will ran her hand through her hair. She thought he'd listen to reason, and the gun, being stowed away at arms length from where he slept...it was a case of trust. Will thought for sure he wouldn't pursue her—the ghost, no, the other half of Katarin—but he went and did it anyway. What? Was he suicidal? He had been injured in previous struggles, was hurt in ways Will couldn't imagine, not to mention his ordeal the previous day—where he fell unconscious in the street right after a bout with a high level demon...
A chill traveled down her spine.
Will dashed to the window, felt the spring air brush her auburn waist length hair over her shoulders. Tears were forming at her eyes, at the realization of this, she used the back of her hand to brush them away. This was bad. She stepped onto the ledge of the window, her hands steadying her bent frame. Really, really bad. Will closed her eyes briefly, in order to mute the sounds of the spectators below. Soon she felt a warmth in the center of her forehead, the place where the angels had blessed her, where Esra blessed her mere moments before death... She leapt forward. Gasps ran around, screams and shouts...then, voices of awe and shock. Some kept quiet, crossing themselves instead.
White feathers danced overhead, the wind carrying them further west. Will, used to summoning her wings now (for she'd been practicing like hell to control her powers) followed the wind. It could have been a hunch, her going this way, but as she neared her destination, her heart seemed to sink into desperation more and more...
Crash! Will's hand slipped, the delicate porcelain that harbored the morning's fresh tea dropped to the floor. Her left eyebrow twitched in rage as she met the frightened maid's eyes. It was then that the news had been confirmed. Esra escaped.
And through the window no less, she thought as she investigated the scene. Her hand drifted over the wooden countertop where Esra's belongings laid just last night... She opened one of the drawers underneath. Gone. She cursed under her breath, crossing her arms as she leaned onto the counter.
Will had kept that blasted gun under lock and key. Esra, with his strength, broke it without a sweat. It was stupid to think that a measly lock can stop a being of his caliber but she thought... Will ran her hand through her hair. She thought he'd listen to reason, and the gun, being stowed away at arms length from where he slept...it was a case of trust. Will thought for sure he wouldn't pursue her—the ghost, no, the other half of Katarin—but he went and did it anyway. What? Was he suicidal? He had been injured in previous struggles, was hurt in ways Will couldn't imagine, not to mention his ordeal the previous day—where he fell unconscious in the street right after a bout with a high level demon...
A chill traveled down her spine.
Will dashed to the window, felt the spring air brush her auburn waist length hair over her shoulders. Tears were forming at her eyes, at the realization of this, she used the back of her hand to brush them away. This was bad. She stepped onto the ledge of the window, her hands steadying her bent frame. Really, really bad. Will closed her eyes briefly, in order to mute the sounds of the spectators below. Soon she felt a warmth in the center of her forehead, the place where the angels had blessed her, where Esra blessed her mere moments before death... She leapt forward. Gasps ran around, screams and shouts...then, voices of awe and shock. Some kept quiet, crossing themselves instead.
White feathers danced overhead, the wind carrying them further west. Will, used to summoning her wings now (for she'd been practicing like hell to control her powers) followed the wind. It could have been a hunch, her going this way, but as she neared her destination, her heart seemed to sink into desperation more and more...
+ + +
A temptress...that's what she'd been reduced to?
Nihil was aimed right at her face but he didn't pull the trigger. Only a few seconds... Only one pull of the trigger...and Katarin's soul would've been set free. But the reason the gun was assigned to him, the role he had been endowed, after this shot there would be another, and another, and another... Even though he would set her soul free, what about his? All these years...he'll keep fighting...but for what then?
"Why do you hesitate?" Her china doll face wore a smile of malice. This isn't her, he repeated continuously. This can never be her. The girl's face and body—though aged in the years since the soul was taken and remade—was similar. If Katarin hadn't died too early, this would be what she'd grow into and they could have lived together... If it was so, if fate was ever so kind, their paths would've been different. Instead, they had been separated by decades, centuries, forever in a chase to right the wrong that was stealing a human's soul. And it would all end, right here, right now, if only Esra could pull the damn trigger.
The woman, carefully watching the angel's movements, could sense his strife. She, aware of the soul that kept her artificial body together, thought of how powerful she'd become if this angel's soul was under her possession. Not to mention, the weapon aimed at her. Just the thought of being able to rise in rank... How others would tremble at her presence... She licked her cherry-red lips, one hand close to her side, a small blade held firm under her thumb.
"Stay back!" Esra shouted, finding that his voice began to falter. Both were a couple paces away. Her being so near him was enough to let the years of killing demons fade away to a buzz in the back of his conflicted mind.
"Shoot," she coaxed, "I dare you. Shoot already." She reached with her free hand to the hands holding the gun inches from her face. A spark ran through her fingers, being that the gun was forged for the use of angels only. Or those with access to an angel's soul. She relished at how close she was to having this weapon to herself... Her right hand closed in on the handle of the blade, ready to strike...
"Esra! Look out!"
Katarin snarled, lunging forward with the blade. Esra sidestepped, his wings rising to gain leverage over her swift consecutive slashes. He fired once. Katarin dodged, thin bat-like wings flapping at her sides, taking to the air. Her obsidian eyes glaring at Esra and Will, who had flocked to his side in a hurry. Two angels? How perfect.
"Esra! You're alright! I'm so—"
"You don't belong here. Go home," was his cold reply.
Will tugged on his sleeve, her emerald eyes pleading, "You could've died! Esra, what about your home? Think of what you have, think of... Remember, Esra, please, think of what you gave to me."
"Enough of this!" With her wings close to her body, Katarin rushed towards them, three blades in each of her gloved hands. She threw one. Esra pushed Will away from him in time, the blade caught deep into the ground. Another throw, using the two left in her right, directed it towards Will. Will, still recovering from the strength in Esra's pushing her away, attempted to call forth a shield. But there was no time. She fumbled with the words, closed her eyes, and held her arms over her face.
There was a sound of metal against metal, or something of equal hardness. She winced.
No pain... Will lowered her arms, finding herself in a protective sphere with a distinct shade of blue—the color of Esra's aura. At once, Will was relived, then enraged for not being able to protect herself but also at..."Damn! Esra! Let me out!" The shield was permanent! What the hell? Will pounded against the surface with her fists, her blows making no effect, save for the ripples that resonated throughout the sphere at each strike. At last, she gave up but her hands remained on the sphere's surface. It was warm.
This isn't fair... Will stood, tense, watching Esra defend against Katarin's attacks. She could feel his exhaustion. The sphere reflected his state of mind... The tiny webs that made up the sphere, the warmth that was disappearing under Will's fingers... What could she do?
It was difficult to breathe but as long as she was safe and alive... Bang! The knife was deflected. Bang! The other flew high into the sky. Esra kept his eyes on Katarin's hands, his finger ready on the trigger... She threw. And the last...
"ESRA!"
Bang!
Nihil was aimed right at her face but he didn't pull the trigger. Only a few seconds... Only one pull of the trigger...and Katarin's soul would've been set free. But the reason the gun was assigned to him, the role he had been endowed, after this shot there would be another, and another, and another... Even though he would set her soul free, what about his? All these years...he'll keep fighting...but for what then?
"Why do you hesitate?" Her china doll face wore a smile of malice. This isn't her, he repeated continuously. This can never be her. The girl's face and body—though aged in the years since the soul was taken and remade—was similar. If Katarin hadn't died too early, this would be what she'd grow into and they could have lived together... If it was so, if fate was ever so kind, their paths would've been different. Instead, they had been separated by decades, centuries, forever in a chase to right the wrong that was stealing a human's soul. And it would all end, right here, right now, if only Esra could pull the damn trigger.
The woman, carefully watching the angel's movements, could sense his strife. She, aware of the soul that kept her artificial body together, thought of how powerful she'd become if this angel's soul was under her possession. Not to mention, the weapon aimed at her. Just the thought of being able to rise in rank... How others would tremble at her presence... She licked her cherry-red lips, one hand close to her side, a small blade held firm under her thumb.
"Stay back!" Esra shouted, finding that his voice began to falter. Both were a couple paces away. Her being so near him was enough to let the years of killing demons fade away to a buzz in the back of his conflicted mind.
"Shoot," she coaxed, "I dare you. Shoot already." She reached with her free hand to the hands holding the gun inches from her face. A spark ran through her fingers, being that the gun was forged for the use of angels only. Or those with access to an angel's soul. She relished at how close she was to having this weapon to herself... Her right hand closed in on the handle of the blade, ready to strike...
"Esra! Look out!"
Katarin snarled, lunging forward with the blade. Esra sidestepped, his wings rising to gain leverage over her swift consecutive slashes. He fired once. Katarin dodged, thin bat-like wings flapping at her sides, taking to the air. Her obsidian eyes glaring at Esra and Will, who had flocked to his side in a hurry. Two angels? How perfect.
"Esra! You're alright! I'm so—"
"You don't belong here. Go home," was his cold reply.
Will tugged on his sleeve, her emerald eyes pleading, "You could've died! Esra, what about your home? Think of what you have, think of... Remember, Esra, please, think of what you gave to me."
"Enough of this!" With her wings close to her body, Katarin rushed towards them, three blades in each of her gloved hands. She threw one. Esra pushed Will away from him in time, the blade caught deep into the ground. Another throw, using the two left in her right, directed it towards Will. Will, still recovering from the strength in Esra's pushing her away, attempted to call forth a shield. But there was no time. She fumbled with the words, closed her eyes, and held her arms over her face.
There was a sound of metal against metal, or something of equal hardness. She winced.
No pain... Will lowered her arms, finding herself in a protective sphere with a distinct shade of blue—the color of Esra's aura. At once, Will was relived, then enraged for not being able to protect herself but also at..."Damn! Esra! Let me out!" The shield was permanent! What the hell? Will pounded against the surface with her fists, her blows making no effect, save for the ripples that resonated throughout the sphere at each strike. At last, she gave up but her hands remained on the sphere's surface. It was warm.
This isn't fair... Will stood, tense, watching Esra defend against Katarin's attacks. She could feel his exhaustion. The sphere reflected his state of mind... The tiny webs that made up the sphere, the warmth that was disappearing under Will's fingers... What could she do?
It was difficult to breathe but as long as she was safe and alive... Bang! The knife was deflected. Bang! The other flew high into the sky. Esra kept his eyes on Katarin's hands, his finger ready on the trigger... She threw. And the last...
"ESRA!"
Bang!
+ + +
"Do you think there really is a heaven? When I die, I want to go there."
"Then I want to go too!"
Smiling, she said, "Together. It would be nice to go together wouldn't it? But..."—her head lowered, eyes downcast—"what if one of us dies first? Like if I were..."
It took a while to answer. He wasn't sure on what to say....but as long as they were in the same place, the time didn't have to matter. "Then I'll personally take you there. I'll ask God and his angels to escort you too and then I'll pray every night to make sure you're taken care of. It's easy. And, if I go first, you have to do what I would do."
"Sounds too good to be true... You promise?" Her eyes brightened, if not a little bit. Lately it looked as if she was going to cry any second and the color of her face...
"I swear."
She shook her head. "Don't swear. I wouldn't want to be...a burden...so"—she held up her pinky—"pinky promise me instead Esra. That way, you can move on if you desire to forget me."
The boy pinky swore. "I doubt it."
"No worries," she said, her voice as low as a whisper, "I'm a very easy person to forget."
"Then I want to go too!"
Smiling, she said, "Together. It would be nice to go together wouldn't it? But..."—her head lowered, eyes downcast—"what if one of us dies first? Like if I were..."
It took a while to answer. He wasn't sure on what to say....but as long as they were in the same place, the time didn't have to matter. "Then I'll personally take you there. I'll ask God and his angels to escort you too and then I'll pray every night to make sure you're taken care of. It's easy. And, if I go first, you have to do what I would do."
"Sounds too good to be true... You promise?" Her eyes brightened, if not a little bit. Lately it looked as if she was going to cry any second and the color of her face...
"I swear."
She shook her head. "Don't swear. I wouldn't want to be...a burden...so"—she held up her pinky—"pinky promise me instead Esra. That way, you can move on if you desire to forget me."
The boy pinky swore. "I doubt it."
"No worries," she said, her voice as low as a whisper, "I'm a very easy person to forget."
+ + +
Both combatants fell to the ground.
The sphere holding Will disintegrated.
No, no, no...please, God, no... Esra, please... Will sprinted to his side, kneeling, a hand over her mouth. The dagger was halfway deep into his right shoulder. He was stirring, his eyes blinking rapidly. Will exhaled in relief. Hurt, but not dead...
"Will..." Esra murmured, attempting to sit up straight with his left arm. "Nihil, please." His hand was held out to her. Will, unsure, rose and picked up Nihil that was a meter or so away where Esra lay. The weapon looked light in Esra's hands, but when she had it in her possession, it was heavy as hell. In a second or two, Esra had the gun in his left hand. After, he prompted Will to help get him to his feet.
Together they walked to Katarin, who lay on her side. She held her stomach, ivory skin tinted crimson. Katarin looked at Esra, flashing a bloody smile. Her body was convulsing, foam dripping from the corners of her mouth. She attempted to talk: "Do...you really think...you'll be able to pull the trigger this time?" Her voice was broken, low in tone and pleading. "Is it so wrong"—she gestured with one hand to her heart—"to give life to a lost human soul? Is it?"
"You deny their passage to rest eternally and you've done nothing but cause trouble during your stay, all of you," he said without remorse, "And it's wrong to go against a promise."
She laughed, a dry short laugh that ended in a coughing fit. "You angels...and your morals. If you still want to kill me, go ahead, I can care less. I'm not worried... Do you know why?"—her crazed obsidian eyes looked towards the two, a maniacal smile twisting her blood-drenched lips—"Because I'm an easy person to forget! And, with a pull of the trigger"—she gestured a gun shooting the side of her face—"Bang! Poof! I'm gone."
"What are you getting at?" Will remarked, seeing that Esra was too preoccupied in his thoughts to reply.
"Well? aren't you going to fulfill your promise?" Katarin replied, ignoring Will.
And with that, Esra aimed straight at Katarin's forehead. His whole arm shook however; but, with Will there to assist...
Bang!
Katarin was free. With the seal broken, a sliver of white light appeared as the body disintegrated, it's dust carried away in the wind. The light remained there for a moment, a warmth radiating from it. Will, entranced by it, could hear a faint voice—gathering that she could hear correctly, a girl said 'thank you.' She glanced at Esra, tears overflowing as the soul faded from view. "Finally..." he seemed to say. Their eyes suddenly met.
"What is it?" Will said, surprised. Esra winced as he used his right hand to secure the gun in Will's hand. "Esra...it's over, we can go home now... But why do I get a feeling that there's still more to do?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, his hand over Nihil. The seals on their foreheads illuminated for a brief amount of time. Nihil, in Will's hands, lightened and in that same moment, her mind opened, letting in a century old presence—the spirit of the gun whose name meant 'nothing', the banisher of homunculi like Katarin. Why, this could only mean one thing and Will's eyes widened in realization. Her earlier feeling was right. Esra was going to die. In the midst of Esra's bout with Katarin, she could feel his will weakening...now, with the relinquishing of his weapon, Esra felt farther, drifting... His light was fading.
"My time is over," Esra said, his palms toward the sky.
Will shook her head, hot tears falling fast. Dropping Nihil to the ground, she beat against Esra's chest with her fists, clutching the fabric of his jacket."You can't leave! Stay, stay, please stay... I-I—"
Silence. "Will...I'm...tired...of living like this. All I've known is sorrow and vengeance, pity, grief and shame. All I wish now is rest because what I've done is give false hope and run over people in my conquest for Katarin. Now, that I've realized my purpose, there is none left for me to do but sleep."
She stepped away, trying her best to hide her eyes from him. All along, she'd known, he'd still choose Katarin over her. What she didn't know was that she had to kill him—that was the price so given by Esra himself. She picked up the gun and, without turning to look at him she asked, "What am I to you?"
He was speechless. "Will..."
"Nevermind. That was a stupid question. So this...is goodbye?" Will wiped at her eyes...she couldn't face him like this. "Say something already!"
But he couldn't. He had handed over ownership of Nihil but, though it was small, he was still connected to that grand power. Now that it was in Will's hands, he could feel her sadness, her feelings... But his heart didn't desire to move forward... It was tired. That's all. To spare the girl, he embraced her, his wings creating a warm barrier around them... There he stayed for awhile. She was a frail creature despite her demeanor and it had been awhile since he had last been near a girl who held such feelings for him.
Will clawed at his arms, fighting through the tears. With the best voice she could muster, she said, "She's going to be mad. You unfaithful jerk... Now, let me go, I can't get a good shot of you unless I shoot myself but Nihil tells me I can't do that. It's against the rules—but you already know that."
He did so, reluctantly, and watched the girl stand a step or three away with the gun aimed at his seal.
"So it's goodbye?" she said with a half-hearted smile.
Esra, disposed of the knife embedded in his shoulder, not bothering to show how it hurt so bad... "Goodbye...Willow."
His tone of voice, his face, his eyes...she'll end up remembering him for as long as she held this gun. It...was a cruel punishment and shall remain as so but she had the following centuries to work it out.
Bang!
The sphere holding Will disintegrated.
No, no, no...please, God, no... Esra, please... Will sprinted to his side, kneeling, a hand over her mouth. The dagger was halfway deep into his right shoulder. He was stirring, his eyes blinking rapidly. Will exhaled in relief. Hurt, but not dead...
"Will..." Esra murmured, attempting to sit up straight with his left arm. "Nihil, please." His hand was held out to her. Will, unsure, rose and picked up Nihil that was a meter or so away where Esra lay. The weapon looked light in Esra's hands, but when she had it in her possession, it was heavy as hell. In a second or two, Esra had the gun in his left hand. After, he prompted Will to help get him to his feet.
Together they walked to Katarin, who lay on her side. She held her stomach, ivory skin tinted crimson. Katarin looked at Esra, flashing a bloody smile. Her body was convulsing, foam dripping from the corners of her mouth. She attempted to talk: "Do...you really think...you'll be able to pull the trigger this time?" Her voice was broken, low in tone and pleading. "Is it so wrong"—she gestured with one hand to her heart—"to give life to a lost human soul? Is it?"
"You deny their passage to rest eternally and you've done nothing but cause trouble during your stay, all of you," he said without remorse, "And it's wrong to go against a promise."
She laughed, a dry short laugh that ended in a coughing fit. "You angels...and your morals. If you still want to kill me, go ahead, I can care less. I'm not worried... Do you know why?"—her crazed obsidian eyes looked towards the two, a maniacal smile twisting her blood-drenched lips—"Because I'm an easy person to forget! And, with a pull of the trigger"—she gestured a gun shooting the side of her face—"Bang! Poof! I'm gone."
"What are you getting at?" Will remarked, seeing that Esra was too preoccupied in his thoughts to reply.
"Well? aren't you going to fulfill your promise?" Katarin replied, ignoring Will.
And with that, Esra aimed straight at Katarin's forehead. His whole arm shook however; but, with Will there to assist...
Bang!
Katarin was free. With the seal broken, a sliver of white light appeared as the body disintegrated, it's dust carried away in the wind. The light remained there for a moment, a warmth radiating from it. Will, entranced by it, could hear a faint voice—gathering that she could hear correctly, a girl said 'thank you.' She glanced at Esra, tears overflowing as the soul faded from view. "Finally..." he seemed to say. Their eyes suddenly met.
"What is it?" Will said, surprised. Esra winced as he used his right hand to secure the gun in Will's hand. "Esra...it's over, we can go home now... But why do I get a feeling that there's still more to do?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, his hand over Nihil. The seals on their foreheads illuminated for a brief amount of time. Nihil, in Will's hands, lightened and in that same moment, her mind opened, letting in a century old presence—the spirit of the gun whose name meant 'nothing', the banisher of homunculi like Katarin. Why, this could only mean one thing and Will's eyes widened in realization. Her earlier feeling was right. Esra was going to die. In the midst of Esra's bout with Katarin, she could feel his will weakening...now, with the relinquishing of his weapon, Esra felt farther, drifting... His light was fading.
"My time is over," Esra said, his palms toward the sky.
Will shook her head, hot tears falling fast. Dropping Nihil to the ground, she beat against Esra's chest with her fists, clutching the fabric of his jacket."You can't leave! Stay, stay, please stay... I-I—"
Silence. "Will...I'm...tired...of living like this. All I've known is sorrow and vengeance, pity, grief and shame. All I wish now is rest because what I've done is give false hope and run over people in my conquest for Katarin. Now, that I've realized my purpose, there is none left for me to do but sleep."
She stepped away, trying her best to hide her eyes from him. All along, she'd known, he'd still choose Katarin over her. What she didn't know was that she had to kill him—that was the price so given by Esra himself. She picked up the gun and, without turning to look at him she asked, "What am I to you?"
He was speechless. "Will..."
"Nevermind. That was a stupid question. So this...is goodbye?" Will wiped at her eyes...she couldn't face him like this. "Say something already!"
But he couldn't. He had handed over ownership of Nihil but, though it was small, he was still connected to that grand power. Now that it was in Will's hands, he could feel her sadness, her feelings... But his heart didn't desire to move forward... It was tired. That's all. To spare the girl, he embraced her, his wings creating a warm barrier around them... There he stayed for awhile. She was a frail creature despite her demeanor and it had been awhile since he had last been near a girl who held such feelings for him.
Will clawed at his arms, fighting through the tears. With the best voice she could muster, she said, "She's going to be mad. You unfaithful jerk... Now, let me go, I can't get a good shot of you unless I shoot myself but Nihil tells me I can't do that. It's against the rules—but you already know that."
He did so, reluctantly, and watched the girl stand a step or three away with the gun aimed at his seal.
"So it's goodbye?" she said with a half-hearted smile.
Esra, disposed of the knife embedded in his shoulder, not bothering to show how it hurt so bad... "Goodbye...Willow."
His tone of voice, his face, his eyes...she'll end up remembering him for as long as she held this gun. It...was a cruel punishment and shall remain as so but she had the following centuries to work it out.
Bang!