12-30-2017, 07:17 PM
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// [member=8016]lucky[/member]
marisol had a funny habit of continually trying to convince himself that he was fine when he was not, in fact, fine in the slightest. it was a tendency born near the time he became his father's messenger, just as most of the fucked-up parts of his life seemed to follow that particular instant in time. during those years, he had seen many tragedies and horrific sights- death, grief, and anger were all constants alongside cataclysm and mutilation of both lands and peoples. in the end, there was a good reason mari had not been repelled by the bloody scene of that stranger who appeared on the border, wounded to high hell. he had seen too much to be disturbed by any of it anymore.
perhaps it was unhealthy to discipline himself into being immune to such things, as it was easy to lose your humanity in such a way, but really, how much of that had he even had from the start? the muses had taught him well, there was no denying that fact, but the genuity of a mortal soul is not something that can be learned, even from the best of teachers.
and god knows marisol had found himself more tutors than just his mothers- in particular, there was the man he fell in love with three thousand years ago. when he left, sunny's heart was far beyond just broken, it was destroyed, wrecked, and mutilated, just like that of the worlds he had visited many times before. but even still, this vulnerability did not soften him- it only caused his outer shell to thicken and his misery to fester. in a twisted irony, it seemed that not even the most cruel and strict of mortal lessons- abandonment- could teach him humanity. perhaps he was the only one to blame for that.
mari swept his striped tail across the ground and watched the particles of dust it had brought flutter through the air and back down to earth. he breathed in, he breathed out, and he looked down at his feet. oh, what a tragic comedy his life had become.
""marisol had a funny habit of continually trying to convince himself that he was fine when he was not, in fact, fine in the slightest. it was a tendency born near the time he became his father's messenger, just as most of the fucked-up parts of his life seemed to follow that particular instant in time. during those years, he had seen many tragedies and horrific sights- death, grief, and anger were all constants alongside cataclysm and mutilation of both lands and peoples. in the end, there was a good reason mari had not been repelled by the bloody scene of that stranger who appeared on the border, wounded to high hell. he had seen too much to be disturbed by any of it anymore.
perhaps it was unhealthy to discipline himself into being immune to such things, as it was easy to lose your humanity in such a way, but really, how much of that had he even had from the start? the muses had taught him well, there was no denying that fact, but the genuity of a mortal soul is not something that can be learned, even from the best of teachers.
and god knows marisol had found himself more tutors than just his mothers- in particular, there was the man he fell in love with three thousand years ago. when he left, sunny's heart was far beyond just broken, it was destroyed, wrecked, and mutilated, just like that of the worlds he had visited many times before. but even still, this vulnerability did not soften him- it only caused his outer shell to thicken and his misery to fester. in a twisted irony, it seemed that not even the most cruel and strict of mortal lessons- abandonment- could teach him humanity. perhaps he was the only one to blame for that.
mari swept his striped tail across the ground and watched the particles of dust it had brought flutter through the air and back down to earth. he breathed in, he breathed out, and he looked down at his feet. oh, what a tragic comedy his life had become.
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[b][i]i guess we can never be friends *:･ﾟ✧