09-21-2020, 03:08 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-21-2020, 03:25 AM by Xenodaemon.)
[align=center][div style="width: 435px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; font-family: verdana; line-height: 13px"]Rewritten of this drabble
Today, they know him as Wesley Thorburn.
Millennials before now, they knew him as Xenphire.
Old memories gently hold their soul while they stare at him— his body that only knows how to bear the tragedies, the endings, the terrible things the Universe wishes it can close its eyes from; yet even with these pain, the darkest sky and deepest sea still glimmers for him, and in return, his aching heart only speaks in the softest kindness no one and nothing can ever offer to life itself. They think about the first day of meeting him to this very moment: The exhaustion, the bitterness, the wonder when can it all end... It makes sense now that they remember.
They flinch at the growing burns in their eyes. Everything begins to fall into useless shapes and colours, but Xenphire still stands as a beautiful meaning: He is their best friend who they had always loved. Slowly, their arms reach out to embrace him, though when they sees his own coming to them, they halt. The old memories clench every edges of them, stealing their breaths away, and they step back from him. The lights in his eyes flicker, and they think they sense a stutter from his heart. Frail. Confused. Just as they are now while they remember themselves too—
What Xenphire meant to them in the end:
He is their best friend who they would always kill.
“I... I hu-hurt you.” The words leave a violent reminder in them, remembering the taste of his blood that they had spilled from his body, the aches of their cheeks while they watched him wail, grinning madly. They may not had killed him in every incarnations of his and their own, but memories can still slaughter the stars and homes. Immortality never knows how to forgive, how to forget, therefore, it only gives, gives, and gives until living no longer feels like living, but dreaming. Though can Xenphire let them breathe despite everything they had done and said to him?
“I hurt you.” I killed you. They still can if their parents make them, as Mother Nature and Father Time are nothing but melted Hell and Heaven all at once. In fear that will come to reality, they turn. But they hand gets gripped onto and they find the tears falling on Xenphire’s face. The old memories catch them in the throat, forced them to see the desperation forming in him. They swear they hear their own laughters tearing across the sky, soon overcome by the thunders, but there is just a choked sob from them. Then nothing is found in them, not even the barest lights.
Xenphire begs them to stay, and that is what he only asks from them.
Stay.
He needs them— wants them, as no stars or prayers can be enough for him to feel less alone. They are enough to him, and they realize that to him, they will always be enough. That he will always love them the same. So they stay, and Xenphire embraces them tightly, letting themselves fall for him to hold while protecting them from the darkness around them both. Still, on his collarbone, they end up wailing. There is supposed to be a happy ending to this moment, they should be breathing well again, but from the place of pure agony, nothing can ever come out as gentle.
Today, they know him as Wesley Thorburn.
Millennials before now, they knew him as Xenphire.
Old memories gently hold their soul while they stare at him— his body that only knows how to bear the tragedies, the endings, the terrible things the Universe wishes it can close its eyes from; yet even with these pain, the darkest sky and deepest sea still glimmers for him, and in return, his aching heart only speaks in the softest kindness no one and nothing can ever offer to life itself. They think about the first day of meeting him to this very moment: The exhaustion, the bitterness, the wonder when can it all end... It makes sense now that they remember.
They flinch at the growing burns in their eyes. Everything begins to fall into useless shapes and colours, but Xenphire still stands as a beautiful meaning: He is their best friend who they had always loved. Slowly, their arms reach out to embrace him, though when they sees his own coming to them, they halt. The old memories clench every edges of them, stealing their breaths away, and they step back from him. The lights in his eyes flicker, and they think they sense a stutter from his heart. Frail. Confused. Just as they are now while they remember themselves too—
What Xenphire meant to them in the end:
He is their best friend who they would always kill.
“I... I hu-hurt you.” The words leave a violent reminder in them, remembering the taste of his blood that they had spilled from his body, the aches of their cheeks while they watched him wail, grinning madly. They may not had killed him in every incarnations of his and their own, but memories can still slaughter the stars and homes. Immortality never knows how to forgive, how to forget, therefore, it only gives, gives, and gives until living no longer feels like living, but dreaming. Though can Xenphire let them breathe despite everything they had done and said to him?
“I hurt you.” I killed you. They still can if their parents make them, as Mother Nature and Father Time are nothing but melted Hell and Heaven all at once. In fear that will come to reality, they turn. But they hand gets gripped onto and they find the tears falling on Xenphire’s face. The old memories catch them in the throat, forced them to see the desperation forming in him. They swear they hear their own laughters tearing across the sky, soon overcome by the thunders, but there is just a choked sob from them. Then nothing is found in them, not even the barest lights.
Xenphire begs them to stay, and that is what he only asks from them.
Stay.
He needs them— wants them, as no stars or prayers can be enough for him to feel less alone. They are enough to him, and they realize that to him, they will always be enough. That he will always love them the same. So they stay, and Xenphire embraces them tightly, letting themselves fall for him to hold while protecting them from the darkness around them both. Still, on his collarbone, they end up wailing. There is supposed to be a happy ending to this moment, they should be breathing well again, but from the place of pure agony, nothing can ever come out as gentle.
[align=center]
I AM AFRAID OF MYSELF AND SO ARE THE GODS
[div style="margin-top: -1px; margin-left: -5px; letter-spacing: 0px; font-size: 8pt; font-family: arial; color: #"][i][b]( lyn — xix — any pronouns — graphic designer — happily taken 09.20.19 )