05-23-2017, 08:40 PM
[align=center][div style="0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9pt; color: #636363"]It was an instinct second when he opened his eyes, or he thought he was, and everything was too bright. It hurt. It burned. He believed for few seconds more later, it would all go away and leave him back alone in peace to the darkness—- home.
Instead his belief only led himself drowning in reality ( a concept he does not see the same as most livings ). He breathed, and God, does his inner body ached. Bones in match sticks and thick flesh-made sacs, he imagined he was breathing gasoline. It was powerful though, enough he could hardly tell a difference between smelling and tasting it ( except does it truly mattered at all? There was two paths, yet they were conjoined into one eventually; he had fires trapped within him, and it would take his death before his tears could put them out ).
It weighed heavy on his tongue, it was thick with every bits of them grazing through his mouth and made it ached to simply melt ( he wished his whole self to dissolve ), it was wrong. It even grew headaches inside of his head, slow, but certainly, like roses, but they were not something defined as beautiful to admire and be amazed at; a flower with sharp thorns growing out of soft mind, planted in a seed of terror. His throat were full of ashes, and he choked and gasped. His body trembled, or was it the surface beneath him that was the one vibrating?
He does not know.
He does not want to know.
He squeezed his eyelids against each other tightly to the point he could see the colourful dots appearing across like the early Fourth of July, embracing the darkness as whole in the end. His heart was burnt along with his entire muscles as it was wailing. It kicked, and it kicked more, harder, faster, his chest were tearing apart from each other ( not even his rib cages could not hold the raging beast down ). It was constantly reminding him he could not get but what it was given only temporary, therefore, he had to let the darkness go anytime soon. He didn't want to though.
Changes was his arch nemesis.
Unfamiliarity screamed chaos.
Life was unpredictable.
( 'I'm so scared,' he thought. )
What frightened him more was he noticed how unpace his breathing was, comparing to his heartbeats. One goes here and there, and another does there and here, but they were uneven from each other; they were not in rhythm, and he does not like it at all. There has to be a balance and a routine to follow somewhere in his life, or else he will collapse and drag everything he held along with him: his memories, his emotions, his thoughts, his strength, his optimism, and his only purpose in living —- to make everyone feel happy and important. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.
Fear clung over his body, thick blanket wrapping around him. He did not realize it was pushing him to the surface, but he did not bother to fight it back and let himself lay there with his back holding what felt like a world. He does not recall being forced to take Atlas' role, so why must he face what he deemed punishment? A whimper escaped from his quivering, thin-lined lips. The ground was soft, but somehow it was also cold. A mixture that made it unpleasant. It brought shivers down on his ivory spines, enveloped with anticipation of what would happen next, his eyes still shut.
At a steady pace, he placed his forepaws against his checks. But he flinched slightly at how wet he did not expect they were. To be fully aware his eyes were stinging from his tears formed a desire to open them, and as he still doesn't wish to do it so, he ended up giving what he believed was loyal to him and did it. Surprise flashed across his slight chubby feature to see there was no more brightness piercing in his eyes, and no more air what was made with gasoline. No more. Although the sceneraio displayed before him was completely different than he would ever expect.
There were trees. Tall and big trees surrounding him. It made him feel like an ant with its size compared to the world itself. So easy he was to be labeled as small and weak as one. There was a lack of light, but he was okay with it; darkness was his friend after all. The sensations of the soils did not change though, so he was still repulsed by it. He was unable to bring himself into thinking. All he did was to observe. It was too much take all at once. Too much. Too much. Eyes widened, he did not move nor speak at all, afraid if he did, something terrible will happen to him.
Regardless it did not matter in the end because a brief moment later, his mind was suddenly taken over with multiple of questions. It drove him into panicking as more whimpers, louder this time, fell forward and tears continued to roll over his cheeks.
Why am I here? Where am I? Can I go home? How can I go home? What do I do? Should I move? Where should I go? What place can I stay in? Can I stay here?...
Questions. Questions. Questions.
Unpredictable. Unpredictable. Unpredictable.
"Pl-please, no - no more, it hurt s-so much..."
It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. No more. No more. No more.
// [member=2054]JUMIN H.[/member] —- please don't be obliged to match my muse. I usually write this much anyway as I'm practicing a new writing style for Nara. Also though it's not mentioned IClly, Nara is somewhere in ShadowClan's territory. c:
Instead his belief only led himself drowning in reality ( a concept he does not see the same as most livings ). He breathed, and God, does his inner body ached. Bones in match sticks and thick flesh-made sacs, he imagined he was breathing gasoline. It was powerful though, enough he could hardly tell a difference between smelling and tasting it ( except does it truly mattered at all? There was two paths, yet they were conjoined into one eventually; he had fires trapped within him, and it would take his death before his tears could put them out ).
It weighed heavy on his tongue, it was thick with every bits of them grazing through his mouth and made it ached to simply melt ( he wished his whole self to dissolve ), it was wrong. It even grew headaches inside of his head, slow, but certainly, like roses, but they were not something defined as beautiful to admire and be amazed at; a flower with sharp thorns growing out of soft mind, planted in a seed of terror. His throat were full of ashes, and he choked and gasped. His body trembled, or was it the surface beneath him that was the one vibrating?
He does not know.
He does not want to know.
He squeezed his eyelids against each other tightly to the point he could see the colourful dots appearing across like the early Fourth of July, embracing the darkness as whole in the end. His heart was burnt along with his entire muscles as it was wailing. It kicked, and it kicked more, harder, faster, his chest were tearing apart from each other ( not even his rib cages could not hold the raging beast down ). It was constantly reminding him he could not get but what it was given only temporary, therefore, he had to let the darkness go anytime soon. He didn't want to though.
Changes was his arch nemesis.
Unfamiliarity screamed chaos.
Life was unpredictable.
( 'I'm so scared,' he thought. )
What frightened him more was he noticed how unpace his breathing was, comparing to his heartbeats. One goes here and there, and another does there and here, but they were uneven from each other; they were not in rhythm, and he does not like it at all. There has to be a balance and a routine to follow somewhere in his life, or else he will collapse and drag everything he held along with him: his memories, his emotions, his thoughts, his strength, his optimism, and his only purpose in living —- to make everyone feel happy and important. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.
Fear clung over his body, thick blanket wrapping around him. He did not realize it was pushing him to the surface, but he did not bother to fight it back and let himself lay there with his back holding what felt like a world. He does not recall being forced to take Atlas' role, so why must he face what he deemed punishment? A whimper escaped from his quivering, thin-lined lips. The ground was soft, but somehow it was also cold. A mixture that made it unpleasant. It brought shivers down on his ivory spines, enveloped with anticipation of what would happen next, his eyes still shut.
At a steady pace, he placed his forepaws against his checks. But he flinched slightly at how wet he did not expect they were. To be fully aware his eyes were stinging from his tears formed a desire to open them, and as he still doesn't wish to do it so, he ended up giving what he believed was loyal to him and did it. Surprise flashed across his slight chubby feature to see there was no more brightness piercing in his eyes, and no more air what was made with gasoline. No more. Although the sceneraio displayed before him was completely different than he would ever expect.
There were trees. Tall and big trees surrounding him. It made him feel like an ant with its size compared to the world itself. So easy he was to be labeled as small and weak as one. There was a lack of light, but he was okay with it; darkness was his friend after all. The sensations of the soils did not change though, so he was still repulsed by it. He was unable to bring himself into thinking. All he did was to observe. It was too much take all at once. Too much. Too much. Eyes widened, he did not move nor speak at all, afraid if he did, something terrible will happen to him.
Regardless it did not matter in the end because a brief moment later, his mind was suddenly taken over with multiple of questions. It drove him into panicking as more whimpers, louder this time, fell forward and tears continued to roll over his cheeks.
Why am I here? Where am I? Can I go home? How can I go home? What do I do? Should I move? Where should I go? What place can I stay in? Can I stay here?...
Questions. Questions. Questions.
Unpredictable. Unpredictable. Unpredictable.
"Pl-please, no - no more, it hurt s-so much..."
It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. No more. No more. No more.
// [member=2054]JUMIN H.[/member] —- please don't be obliged to match my muse. I usually write this much anyway as I'm practicing a new writing style for Nara. Also though it's not mentioned IClly, Nara is somewhere in ShadowClan's territory. c:
[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: center; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8.5pt; line-height: 115%; color: #000"][i]do not speak to me, for my ears bleeds from the ringing of betrayal