You may have to turn the blog music off - I don't know if I have it set to auto play or not *shrugs*
That is all.
2.14.2016
Azariel's Ambition
(please forgive I am sick and tired.)
"I've been doing this for more than 40 years now, you're going to have to do better than that, Azariel."
Her voice chided him, the thump of her spear touching the ground again loud in his ears.
His teeth ground together, his breath rushing out in a plume of clouds, his fingers digging into the frosted earth before he rose again, hand moving to cover a wound, then dropping to reveal it as gone.
If anything, he wasn't going to lose. No. Not now.
He'd spent too long training with her and working so hard to lose now.
He was the son of the protector of this forest.
He was the son of a line of Demigods that ran up to the gods Tempestas and Asclepius as his Great Grandparents.
Even if he was young, he couldn't just let himself be weak.
He was going to be stronger, and he was going to get it by his own power.
Readying himself, he stepped forwards, ripping his sword from the earth, its blade humming with electric energy at his touch.
/Our power. This is our power./
Taking his stance, he waited until she did the same, then charged.
This time, he was merciless, defending only what needed to be defended, letting the blade of her spear slice his skin time and time again, the cuts melting away just as soon as she gave them.
Forward, forward, further and further he pushed her back, the thought of victory spurring his movements, the pain of her blows nothing to him.
His sword crackled as he swung time and time again, meeting the staff with incredible force each time she blocked, and gaining power and speed each time he missed, whirring through the open air before circling around once again to deliver another blow against the unyielding wood of her spear.
With each breath came further energy, their duel gaining momentum, his scales humming with the same energy that surrounded his sword, each collision explosive, until finally, /finally/ he got somewhere.
His sword came down and the staff of her spear came up, and this time when they met, not only did sparks fly and energy crackle, but his sword prevailed.
Wood split, splinters falling and his sword continuing down as she leapt backwards, out of the way of what would certainly be a damaging blow.
Drawing his sword back, he didn't hear her praise, he only saw his chance.
Rocketing forward, the wind parted for him, his sword moving almost with its own will, straight for her chest.
But no.
His victory was snatched from him, a foot colliding with his blade, sending it to the ground and out of his hand.
Knocking it away.
Tall, powerful, shining and golden.
Their eyes met, and Azariel's burned before he broke contact, turning and running, unhearing and alone.
Snatching up his sword and heading for the place only he knew.
It was hidden, dark and lonely, but it was his.
A small crevice in the earth leading to an underground pool, with glowing crystalline structures and an old shrine in the center, eroded and unrecognizable.
His own place.
His breathing was the first thing he became aware of, ragged, broken huffs of air, and then his hands found his eyes wet, and his head spinning.
Azariel stood still for a moment, shocked.
Him, crying?
Looking down at his sword, he found it subdued, losing its built up power so quickly.
He collapsed, kneeling in the water and trying so hard to calm down, clutching his shirt and waiting until he could breathe again.
Alone at last.
He'd won, right?
He beat her.
So why did... Why did everything hurt..?
Lifting his sword again, he held it out in front of him, gaze roving across the blade's surface, the crystal in the hilt, the way it seemed alive.
The way his eyes staring back at him in the reflection didn't actually belong to him.
"We're better. We're getting stronger, right?"
His voice was hoarse, and it echoed softly before everything fell silent again.
Pulling it close to his chest, he closed his eyes and sighed.
"Of course we are. How could I think otherwise? We won, after all."
He felt the warmth and the energy surge once again from the blade, and smiled, sitting up. Standing up.
"There you are."
Holding it out at arms length again, his fingers traced the edge of his sword, its gleaming surface humming once again.
"We're going to be the strongest in the world, you and I. Mom didn't feel you, and neither did Grandma, but I do. And that's why we're friends, isn't it?"
He turned the blade, placing the tip into the sheath at his hip and then sliding it in, not letting go of the hilt, and turning towards the pathway up to the world outside.
"We're friends because you know I can be strong, and I'm not going to disappoint you. We're partners. We're going to do this, together."
 |
Her voice chided him, the thump of her spear touching the ground again loud in his ears.
His teeth ground together, his breath rushing out in a plume of clouds, his fingers digging into the frosted earth before he rose again, hand moving to cover a wound, then dropping to reveal it as gone.
If anything, he wasn't going to lose. No. Not now.
He'd spent too long training with her and working so hard to lose now.
He was the son of the protector of this forest.
He was the son of a line of Demigods that ran up to the gods Tempestas and Asclepius as his Great Grandparents.
Even if he was young, he couldn't just let himself be weak.
He was going to be stronger, and he was going to get it by his own power.
Readying himself, he stepped forwards, ripping his sword from the earth, its blade humming with electric energy at his touch.
/Our power. This is our power./
Taking his stance, he waited until she did the same, then charged.
This time, he was merciless, defending only what needed to be defended, letting the blade of her spear slice his skin time and time again, the cuts melting away just as soon as she gave them.
Forward, forward, further and further he pushed her back, the thought of victory spurring his movements, the pain of her blows nothing to him.
His sword crackled as he swung time and time again, meeting the staff with incredible force each time she blocked, and gaining power and speed each time he missed, whirring through the open air before circling around once again to deliver another blow against the unyielding wood of her spear.
With each breath came further energy, their duel gaining momentum, his scales humming with the same energy that surrounded his sword, each collision explosive, until finally, /finally/ he got somewhere.
His sword came down and the staff of her spear came up, and this time when they met, not only did sparks fly and energy crackle, but his sword prevailed.
Wood split, splinters falling and his sword continuing down as she leapt backwards, out of the way of what would certainly be a damaging blow.
Drawing his sword back, he didn't hear her praise, he only saw his chance.
Rocketing forward, the wind parted for him, his sword moving almost with its own will, straight for her chest.
But no.
His victory was snatched from him, a foot colliding with his blade, sending it to the ground and out of his hand.
Knocking it away.
Tall, powerful, shining and golden.
Their eyes met, and Azariel's burned before he broke contact, turning and running, unhearing and alone.
Snatching up his sword and heading for the place only he knew.
It was hidden, dark and lonely, but it was his.
A small crevice in the earth leading to an underground pool, with glowing crystalline structures and an old shrine in the center, eroded and unrecognizable.
His own place.
His breathing was the first thing he became aware of, ragged, broken huffs of air, and then his hands found his eyes wet, and his head spinning.
Azariel stood still for a moment, shocked.
Him, crying?
Looking down at his sword, he found it subdued, losing its built up power so quickly.
He collapsed, kneeling in the water and trying so hard to calm down, clutching his shirt and waiting until he could breathe again.
Alone at last.
He'd won, right?
He beat her.
So why did... Why did everything hurt..?
Lifting his sword again, he held it out in front of him, gaze roving across the blade's surface, the crystal in the hilt, the way it seemed alive.
The way his eyes staring back at him in the reflection didn't actually belong to him.
"We're better. We're getting stronger, right?"
His voice was hoarse, and it echoed softly before everything fell silent again.
Pulling it close to his chest, he closed his eyes and sighed.
"Of course we are. How could I think otherwise? We won, after all."
He felt the warmth and the energy surge once again from the blade, and smiled, sitting up. Standing up.
"There you are."
Holding it out at arms length again, his fingers traced the edge of his sword, its gleaming surface humming once again.
"We're going to be the strongest in the world, you and I. Mom didn't feel you, and neither did Grandma, but I do. And that's why we're friends, isn't it?"
He turned the blade, placing the tip into the sheath at his hip and then sliding it in, not letting go of the hilt, and turning towards the pathway up to the world outside.
"We're friends because you know I can be strong, and I'm not going to disappoint you. We're partners. We're going to do this, together."
2.08.2016
Midnight Introspection
This is what happens when I can't close my eyes.
When my thoughts decide they know better than my mind and my infinite need for rest.
You begin to... Notice things.
Especially the things that have gone horribly wrong.
There's something strange about being officially a part of something and having everything change.
Before, I was a hitchhiker. A speck on the wall dreaming to join and simply doing what I could from the sidelines.
And I loved it.
It was the highlight of my day, and nothing could go wrong as long as it was there, me and my endless supply of pens and paints and whatnot...
I was there because I wanted to be.
My name wasn't anywhere on the list.
I had no member card.
I wrote and I drew because I could and it was enjoyable. I wanted to be a part of all of it.
All of this.
But now I'm here.
I made it.
So why don't I want any of it anymore?
Why is it so...
Hard to enjoy anything like I did?
These words don't listen to me anymore. I can type and I can type and I can type but none of them are mine.
None of them will listen.
I can't sleep because I can't write and I can't write because I can't... /See/ like I used to.
Something is gone.
I'm missing something here.
I hold the member's card in my hand, the season pass, the keyswipe to be here.
But
It's empty.
So hollow.
Was I chasing smoke?
Was it all just a lie?
Was any of it even real?
Or is it all just another delusion.
Another fake reality.
One more flower I didn't realize was a monster.
And now, I have no one to blame but myself for making it so painful to hold a pen again, for letting the vines grow and grow thorns while they were at it underneath the budding flowers, for letting everything
- Everything -
become just another meaningless checkmark on the list.
When my thoughts decide they know better than my mind and my infinite need for rest.
You begin to... Notice things.
Especially the things that have gone horribly wrong.
There's something strange about being officially a part of something and having everything change.
Before, I was a hitchhiker. A speck on the wall dreaming to join and simply doing what I could from the sidelines.
And I loved it.
It was the highlight of my day, and nothing could go wrong as long as it was there, me and my endless supply of pens and paints and whatnot...
I was there because I wanted to be.
My name wasn't anywhere on the list.
I had no member card.
I wrote and I drew because I could and it was enjoyable. I wanted to be a part of all of it.
All of this.
But now I'm here.
I made it.
So why don't I want any of it anymore?
Why is it so...
Hard to enjoy anything like I did?
These words don't listen to me anymore. I can type and I can type and I can type but none of them are mine.
None of them will listen.
I can't sleep because I can't write and I can't write because I can't... /See/ like I used to.
Something is gone.
I'm missing something here.
I hold the member's card in my hand, the season pass, the keyswipe to be here.
But
It's empty.
So hollow.
Was I chasing smoke?
Was it all just a lie?
Was any of it even real?
Or is it all just another delusion.
Another fake reality.
One more flower I didn't realize was a monster.
And now, I have no one to blame but myself for making it so painful to hold a pen again, for letting the vines grow and grow thorns while they were at it underneath the budding flowers, for letting everything
- Everything -
become just another meaningless checkmark on the list.
11.04.2015
Soldier
That siren has been going off for a while now...
Red. Loud. It screams,
Something is Coming.
When are you going to wake up?
Your room is the brightest of oranges and yet your eyes are still glazed over.
When will you WAKE UP?
Come now, the fog is getting thicker, and thicker, and darker.
Blackened ceilings crumbling,
Ground beneath you rumbling,
Sky above you burning,
Just how long will you take to wake up?Listen, you don't have the time to lie there.
You don't have the time to wait.
Soon enough, if you don't move, this room will be your grave.
Soon enough, that siren will be silenced
...and you may be too.
Wake up, Wake up.
Smoke is slowly descending upon you, and here you lie, still asleep.
Wake up.
You need to wake up.
...Please, wake up...
Wake up, its time to Breathe
Wake up, it's time to Dream,
Wake up, its time to Leave.
10.05.2015
I'm tired of going Home
I'm tired of going home.
Back to tired and exasperated "Yes mother"s and "okay"s.
Back to anger, back to fear, back to pain and paranoia.
Back to "You're so stupid", "You're clueless", "Why are you so rude?", "You're lazy and a pig and it's a wonder you have any friends." Back to doubt.
Back to worthlessness, because I can't manage the same ease and grace in pulling good grades as I did in elementary school, when everything was based on whether or not you did the assignment, not how well you did.
Back to being nothing more than a trophy in a glass case, silver and tarnishing, slowly, slowly.
9.27.2015
"..." - In which reality ceases to make sense, and time refuses to exist, at least coherently.
I have a need for answers.
9.25.2015
Mists
Things grow ever stranger.
With each twisting breath, each twirling wisp of insanity curling towards oblivion, I can help but... Wonder.
And change.
And shift just as my surroundings do, a second vision playing itself out just behind my eyes, and sometimes I see it better than what is actually in front of me.
I live through dreaming.
My heart no longer a regularity, just a hectic drum of chaos, too loud, too quiet, too fast, too slow.
It can't possibly be healthy to have an extremely hard, slow heartbeat.
And yet.
And yet, as the mists of my mind's eye close in over me, a quick check reveals just this, as if me, as I exist, is fading away ever so slowly, melding into this other universe I so easily touch.
I'm simply stuck wondering, when it will end.
When one side finally dominates the other, when life conquers dream or dream conquers reality.
9.17.2015
Not for the Faint of Heart
Stage One
Admiration, a difference between, small glances & daydreams with or without accuracy in character.
Stage Two
First contact, giddy anticipation, anxiety and light obsession.
Stage Three
Tactical Subterfuge, long stares and distance among closeness. Utterly confusing the victim.
Stage Four
Distancing, loss of interest, branching off either to cease contact altogether or form a coherent, functioning bond of friendship.
Stage Five
We understand.
WE. DON'T. KNOW.
9.14.2015
Comrade
There's something in the air today.
I might just be paranoid,
or utterly drained from a weekend of anemia, but...
I can't stop thinking
Its a normal human process, I know. But that's not the problem.
It's that I keep thinking like a lost cause rather than a human being.
9.09.2015
Spaces between the lines
Meet me at the park, under the cherry tree.
Meet me by the creek, lets have a moment by the old bridge.
Meet me... somewhere, anywhere, just not here.
I am a prisoner.
A captive.
I've spent too many seasons at the mercy of a malevolent demon.
I've watched too many looming ends to myself pass right on by, apocalypses that dawned but never came.
I've got a black box against my head and its finger is always teasing the trigger.
Not just that, but this Russian roulette it plays doesn't help for sanity.
So meet me by the creek side, let's sit awhile on those rocks and watch the water run by.
Because heaven knows I need a shoulder to cry on.
Heaven knows I'm a crumbling relic at seventeen, when it seems everyone else was just barely built.
The hurricane is just on the horizon, and I don't know if I'll make it through this one.
So please.
Meet me in the park.
By the creek.
On the old bridge.
Maybe on the swings or someplace in the trees.
Meet me there.
And maybe just maybe I might make it this time like I always have, even with chains around my neck and ice cold claws gracing the inner reaches of my mind.
Maybe. Just maybe, I can make it through the tempest with you.
Meet me by the creek, lets have a moment by the old bridge.
Meet me... somewhere, anywhere, just not here.
I am a prisoner.
A captive.
I've spent too many seasons at the mercy of a malevolent demon.
I've watched too many looming ends to myself pass right on by, apocalypses that dawned but never came.
I've got a black box against my head and its finger is always teasing the trigger.
Not just that, but this Russian roulette it plays doesn't help for sanity.
So meet me by the creek side, let's sit awhile on those rocks and watch the water run by.
Because heaven knows I need a shoulder to cry on.
Heaven knows I'm a crumbling relic at seventeen, when it seems everyone else was just barely built.
The hurricane is just on the horizon, and I don't know if I'll make it through this one.
So please.
Meet me in the park.
By the creek.
On the old bridge.
Maybe on the swings or someplace in the trees.
Meet me there.
And maybe just maybe I might make it this time like I always have, even with chains around my neck and ice cold claws gracing the inner reaches of my mind.
Maybe. Just maybe, I can make it through the tempest with you.
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