✗ ┋ TRAGIC FOLLY.
( サンゴ ) —- She hated it. Hated the expression on his face, the compassion and patience and understanding that all but saturated his very essence. Hated that even in a world not her own, she was trapped by the making of her own, same mistakes. This had to be some form of hell. A warped and cruel damnation that toyed with her heart. No. This one, this man with sad eyes who sought to deter her couldn’t liberate her; he wouldn’t absolve her from the crimes she had already committed, and would have no choice but to continue committing. No one could save her. Not anymore. Sango was beyond saving, and that’s what she saw in those lavender eyes. Only wanting to help.
HE had been too persuasive; too smart and held in his possession now, and used like a leash and girdle to direct her every move, was the fragment of the shikon jewel that had come through with her. The moment he found out why she so desperately needed it… His little Dog of War, would become suddenly expendable and insignificant. With a snarl, she lunged into action, spurred by helpless anger, burning tears and consuming frustration,
“I know what I’m doing, no one asked you to save me!” It was too late.
No such thing as pleading, the gaze in his eyes are unwavering in their need to liberate. To see this YOUNG LIFE spiraling into a whirlpool of his own mistakes when there was a chance that he could have even stopped that outcome in the first place... that undying empathy left HIS SCARED HEART aching in ways that he would never believe it would hurt again. He is too young to look like he knows much, too old to ever reach out a hand to her, and too much too wary about what she feels that his mind is becoming one with hers. And the pain she feels is unbearable, likened to his and yet so different. It burns like the lamps that light THE LONELY STREETS of towns he passed by, ebbing away.
Back then, there were no hands to guide him, no strangers to tell him which path to take. It was all a feat of a tired soul and an aching body, one that grew out of his old shell of mistakes and made an attempt to walk on the path of A WANDERER, no matter how painful those scars from the past had burned. He can be that to her now, and though she would not let him, he knew that it stemmed from something far greater than he ever expected.
There are movements spurned by HELPLESS ANGER he can see nearly five steps ahead of when they are conceived. A step, a draw, the narrowest of his hairs being sliced by her attack as it spiraled in front of him, landing without a scratch. THE BLADE itches to be drawn, but he will not grant his violent side the satisfaction it does not deserve. ❝ And that is why this one took it upon himself to do just that. You do not know where THIS PATH leads you and yet you walk it blindly, that you do. That is not how you repent for your mistakes. ❞ Anger is a fleeting emotion because it is simply that. Pain, however, is not an emotion and does not fade as quickly ; she may die with it.








