Sacrifice

‘✉’ for an unsent letter from my character to yours.

Unarticulated  words  forever  sealed  behind  restless  rebellion;  Syntax  of  all  that  has  been  &  all  that  no  longer  is  layin  gentle  subtleness  between  soft  petals.  Roseate  cages  held  captive  that  which  shall  never  bask  in  the  shimmering  light  of  exploded  stars.  Two  worlds  driven  apart  by  no  other  but  the  complete  contradictions  of  their  ideals.  Yet  in  fleetinginstances  of  thunderous  outbursts  do  these  realms  collide  --  igniting,  combusting,  indissolubly  linking  black  &  white.  An  inseparable  embrace.  A  moment  of  ultimate  [ d i s b e l i e f  ] 

                           does she understand, or is her brisk daftness intentional?

              impatience has never become him

                          ( as he absorbs matter, the sucking  t h u m p  of a swirling black hole follows him. he does not become. he is. )

              and unlike several comrades in the fields of justice, there is little strain to keep impeccable composure.

                        to think, that was, it had ever been stirred at all.

        simple words do not irritate.

                 futility is met with futility, coldness the same. he is not stranger to walls of ice.

                                                              [ i am the master of my fate. ]

                            “you know my meaning, tercera.”

       no names. as is expected of a nameless ghost.

        those  who  still  dwell  in  the  past,  those  linked  to  forgotten  memories  of  distant  futures  --  

        they  -  with  naught  but  empty  gazes  -  will  unfurl  the  death  of  God  within  their  soul.  

         they  -  wielding  remnants  of  lingering  dreams  -  will  weave  the  threads  of  agony  and  despair,  

          and  taste  the  bitterness  of  the  cold  air,  caged  in  their  rotten  lungs.  

                                           a  generation  gone  by  in  restless  whispers  

     Women. They made his lip curl — each and every one of them — but especially this one. This one he couldn’t shove into the ground and make beg for mercy. This one was powerful; powerful enough to have him disintegrated into nothing more than particles if she wanted. And what use was he to Baraggan-sama dead?

     ”Tch…. Yeah. What do you want, Tercera-sama?”

               A regal stance would be the only one the Dragon took in the presence of others. One of his status could never show anything but regality in public after all. The Prince in his crown stood tall with a single hand on the hilt of his blade - just in case it needed to be unsheathed and drawn. The aura radiating from his body gave off nothing short of sheer strength and willpower. A mere man he might have been, but he was just as mighty as any God.

                                    “You appear to be lost, străin.”

     ”Well if it ain’t the ‘Queen' herself,” Ggio was quick to comment with a tone laced with sarcasm and disgust. The Tercera didn't deserve the title, not when Baraggan-sama's name still struck fear into those that fathomed his immense power. The feline knew well enough that he had little influence, if any at all, but that didn't stop him from speaking out.

          She  pervades  and  penetrates  all  

          with  naught  but  the  everlasting  

          silence.  Unfading  is  her  brilliance

          and  gracious  are  her  ways.  She  

          is  the  shining  sun  -  radiant  &  bright -

          elevating  those  lost  &  never  found.  

          Feline  elegance  reformed  in  savage  strength. 

          Untamed  power  obedient  to  only  one  -- 

                       [   ᴛʜᴇ  ᴜɴʜoʟʏ  ɢɪᴀɴᴛ  ]

           He  who  is  deemed  an  immortal deity,

           whose  throne  towers  above  time  itself,  

          infinitely  enslaving  those  blessed  by  his    t o u c h 

    Looming, authoritative, but yielding, pliant. Susceptible to ideas and to wonderment— to thoughts of his soldiers, receptive to their worries. Is that not as it should be?

    “—Is there a reason for your presence?”