dirge of memories

EDGAR ALLAN POE – ACCEPTING

   DEATH WAS CAPTIVATING. That thin line which was tread every day that made it all so captivating. And it was that intricate relationship of life and death that had become his life of a Nobody. Where he existed both in the living, in the dead, and neither at all. Where he stood between the two roads and looked on as he commanded those to live or die.

   Even if he was to command death, even if he were to reap the lives of all, it was also life that he too commanded. The flowers which blossomed and he made wilt away. The reaping of lives which also beckoned new life in gore. “The dead feed the life, as life feed death. It is a never ending cycle. Should one end then so too the other. After all, what is it to live when there is no death, and what is there to die without life?” He smiled as he looked down to his palm. “I wonder what either feel like. I have never experienced such phenomenon even as I control the threads of life itself.”’

EDGAR ALLAN POE -- ACCEPTING

   IT WAS ALL that a Nobody had to live for. Hope. Hope that a heart would be regained, hope that all would be the same as their past self, hope that they would regain what was loss. The agony of the empty pit within themselves. The agony of waking and feeling nothing but the empty pit between his chest. He knew it well. Knew it well enough to reach heavensward and cry for the soul that was built upon lies.

   Did he hope because he desired a heart to fit this shell? Or did his desires to be whole turn into hope? 

         roses are doomed to wither yet so many indulge them.  such a pitiful and temporary existence,  a nullifying joy that only lasts mere moments before it begins the cycle of decay once again. was not the very nature of life the singular destiny to wither away ?  even now,  the living are rotting behind fully flushed cheeks and bright eyes.  just as the pretty red petals become naught but dust,  so too does the flesh. 

            ❛  mayhap you will find that the heart can also be a bottomless pit. ❜  he watches,  unmoved,  with lidded eyes.  the heavy movement of his sabatons resounds aloud,  as if every single gesture he made was burdened with a weight he did not care for.  ❛   it beats,  it follows a rhythm,  but to what end ?   to live ?    then what a lifeless existence it truly is.    ❜  

   INTRIGUING. This man empty, a void. Beneath that skin, that pale gentle red pigment, there beat a heart but only to live. But of course, that was the way of things. Those who wanted nothing more than to live, breath, and to find ecstasy when their life offered none. Those shadows are doomed to consume him, and Marluxia was left to wonder when and how they would take the empty shell of his heart (but he did not doubt the other’s abilities in maintaining a corporeal form. in becoming what everything shunned. that in between. but would he?).

   THE HUG IS most unexpected. Lauriam stands there for a little. Arms out to his sides as if standing there wet staring down at Ienzo in confusion. It wasn’t that it was awkward, or that he didn’t want the hug, but it was mostly because Lauriam often forgot that Ienzo was still a child. Even if they were different from before. Even if they were different people from before. He still remembers seeing Zexion from the corner of his eyes and seeing that childish curiosity. Only children. 

Xigbar rolled his eye at the attitude,  “Wow, wonder what it would take to impress you.” He imitated sarcasm.  

He was preparing another snide remark when their path was blocked by a much larger figure. “Oh, now that’s what I’m talking about!” Fake glee spread across Xigbar’s features at the appearance of the giant Heartless.

He readied his Sharpshooter, warping back a further distance for a better shot. With the Heartless in range he fired, knocking the creature back a couple of paces.

“Now don’t make me do all the work Sprout!” He called down to Marluxia. 

   What was it to even be impressed?

      THERE HE CAME to a halt as he eyed the hulking mass of shadow before him. A darkness overwhelming, one he could feel festering even within the nothingness. Hands lovingly caressed the green handle of his humongous scythe as dulled eyes stared into a loveless black embrace. 

"HERE you will meet people you have known in the past, and you will meet people you miss."