[ Post a Response | Desreal ]
Posted by Se. Formaldehyde on February 3, 2009, 5:19 pm, in reply to "To Formaldehyde"
99.249.135.59
Should. Could. Would. All three of those demanding vocabulary insults are like a kick to your integrity when it's rolling on the floor, writhing in agony from being shoved to the ground in the first place. They tell you what you could have achieved, could have done if you chose one direction or the other. But you didn't. And that's your fault because you didn't do as told. Should. It is not an entitlement, giving you the choice, the decision, the compromising abilities required for life; it is delivering a blow to your pride, because it is not an option. You should do this, else errors, deformities, issues, will occur. Does life itself not come packed full with rivalries, problems, predicamaents we cannot help but pull ourselves through, even without having to listen to hose shoulds? Ah, but then the worst of them all comes around the corner that is life.
Would. It declares who you are, why you do the things you do. It is also how everyone breaks down. This is the word of lies. The word of envy, deceit, destruction. Would, or wouldn't? It is the very word of what you would do to get what you want, and you can lie, just with a simple turn of your tongue, the sound of the word creasing your lips. I wouldn't be unfaithful. I would always be there for you. Would die for you. Wouldn't fight over anything. Lies. Lies. Lies. The very word has been etched into my mind over the course of my life, however long or short it's been. I cannot even remember my age anymore; I am younger than a few, older than most. I feel much older than I am, this I know. All because of the broken promises, my own wrongdoings, and the very danger of life, of time, of fate.
I could not run away from what I had done. Wouldn't. And this. This was not the truth. For although physically, I had refused to race away in my fear, confusion, lack of understanding. Something inside me had believed it was... Skylar. not really. I knew who Wicked was, could tell by her colour, how she spoke, what she did. Her movements, luxurious and gentle as they were, could not entice the feelings I had for a smaller, far paler mare. I could not really understand how I had come to... Yes. To fall in love with a mare who both did not deserve to have the horrid likes of me pining for her, and who would be better off with someone else. I was positive Skylar was quite uninterested with me, Formaldehyde, the Seer whom stood alone. So, so alone. As always.
My dark fazed hooves made their way somewhat less daintily than usual, through the glade of Desreal, the canopy above our heads quite dark after the time I had spent with... With.. Just. Away. Time I had spent away. The sun that attempted to cascade thoroughly between the fronds from above did not glimmer upon my bland, dark pelt of blue roan. Instead, it seemed defective- it appeared far more ebony than usual, my locks of obsidian swinging slowly into my heavily blue hued features. I heard the sounds.
And my inked pools came to the edge of the clearing, watching with a sorrowed interest as the beautiful mare allowed her Earth to summon the beautiful rose. Her white rose. Only this time, numerous sprouts ascended from below, inclined to have pearlesque ivory for their shades as well. I narrowed my eyes, averting my gaze as I thought of Wicked's white rose. It isn't the same. I had an affection for the warrior mare, but... It wasn't. It just wasn't the same.
And then, I stepped forth, inviting Skylar's forlorn gaze to look upon me, though I walked with no pride, no dignity. I was a fallen angel, and had been for these many years. I hadn't the right to act like I still had control of my life. My blue roan face offered a forced smile as the pale mare raced up to me, our contrasts sending a memory ripping through my mind. Of Skylar and I. Of her father, receding slowly into the darkness, a smile of acceptance upon his maw. What had that meant? I was never truly oblivious, was I? And yet, for so long, it seemed I was.
Here, before me, was the beautiful Skylar. Her extravagent gestures, her motions, it was all so very her. She inquired of my living and Solira, and, clearing my throat to rid myself of the obscene emotions writhing inside me, I responded awkwardly, "I. I did not stay in Solira. I went to the Vipers instead." Why? I could almsot hear her asking, though when I answered the uninquired, it seemed as though I were consoling myself more. "Because I dislike the ocean. Very. Very much." Water. I shivered at the thought of it, before my gaze travelled along Skylar's frame. Concern etched into my face as I observed her, noting her sudden confusion.
My eyes too clouded with grief, confusion, loss, the want to no longer be alone. I stepped forwards, so our chests touched, and brought my neck arching down, so my blue head rested gently against the nape of her neck. "I'm falling Skylar. And I've been falling so long, with no one to help me, that I feel out of reach." Do you feel this way as well? Your mother, gone. Mine too. Father, so harsh at first, so mean. Mine was as well. Whether or not she had an even heavier weight burdening her, as I had, I could only hope she would.. That the pale, awkward mare with her truthful, understanding eyes and her ivory roses, could comfort me.
That maybe she would say it, if it was what was saving me. What she needed to say, only my heart knew. I was thankful, at this moment, that Grimm had let me be with her alone; he understood me so well. And, as I looked carefully over to her honorary grave, as I believed it to be, I exhaled, closing my eyes and channeling my energy through my hooves. My Earth rippled lightly, like the surface of water, and a low sound echoed from between the roses. It began to develop, a tree, with the most elegantly alabastar petals, between the roses, illuminating the area as the sun reflected from its gorgeous hue. I looked at it absently, before returning my attentions to Skylar. "For your mother." Because I know. I know why he blamed you, and I know that everything had continued to get better. But, most of all, I know the pain. Perhaps, above all, that is why we understand each other so well. Because the pain of life, and fate, has come against us both, and as we stand here, contrasting with our darkness and light, I feel there may be more strength than I had ever experienced before. Enough to come against my horrible realities that have happened so many times before.
EARTH III
Tacite Epitaphium
W O L F
SEER HARUSPEX
2
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