❝ --I see this life, 　　　like a swinging vine! 　　　Swing my heart across the line, 　　　and in my face is flashing signs 　　　seek it out and ye' shall find!🎵❞

I’m strong. But am I strong enough?

Purple, burning, biting. The blight gnaws at my skin, rotting it faster, hurting. Blood poured from the wound. It was a bite, impure.

The wolves weren’t unfamiliar, of course. But when they wouldn’t listen to my orders, and would rather follow the command from their main master, it’d always end up like this. Tragedy, but only for me.

Then, was when I acknowledged that I’ve done something to anger him. Their master. My Father. And it was those times when I realized my own weakness.

I was unable to fight, and I was alone at it.

　It has been a while.

　Cerulean eyes were fixated on the ground, following the lines of thick roots coming from the underground, holding in its place the big tree trunk of an old cherry blossom that once upon a time used to be covered in petals of pink. A place that still held a little piece of his heart.

　It wasn’t too often when he let himself to mourn events from the past, not much anymore. But from time to time, when inner turmoils drove his emotions to the brink, he allowed his grief out, only when and if he was sure there was no one around to see it.

　What wouldn’t he give to have some more time to talk with her?

　Well, not like he had any specific topic in mind, no. All in all, he felt the need to simply share another moment with his first ever shinki. To have another spunk-of-the-moment conversation with her, perhaps about something else he’d like to learn about humans. He still remembered how comfortable he felt around her, even if he was just a child at that time.

　There was so much he’d have liked to tell her though, and yet nothing specific either. He felt the need to share his little achievements with someone, and apologize for his mistakes just the same. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, how he’d always liked to see her smile, how much he enjoyed listening when she talked about the world—how much he enjoyed listening to her at all.

　　❝ ...Y’know--❞  He spoke to the air, permitting himself to flash a little, sad smile. Even if no one but the tree was there to listen. ❝ I... I know you won’t be able to blossom again, but--but I would like you to know, regardless of it, I will always remember how pretty you always were--are.❞

　Take a sip for every slash given, says his head. And he does just that.

　They’re not short sips, going for as long as he wanted his throat to burn. And he couldn’t decide if he did it as a way to cope, or as self-punishment.

tagged by stolen from :   @hakureimaiden​ tagging :    you love mythology? you interested? go ahead and do it!

APHRODITE:     laughter-loving. sweet  smiles. dressed  in  silk  and  satin. flower  in  their  hair.    sees  the  world  as  a  runway.    unapologetically  sexual.   the  sea  washing  their  ankles.  in  love  with  love.  stirrer  of  passion.  cunning  concealed  by  painted  lips.   secret  daggers.   doves.     revolution  in  their  kiss.     delighting  in  the  waves.    flirtatious  winks. strolling  along  the  beach.    staring  wistfully  from  a  balcony.   this  is  how  to  be  a  heartbreaker.   wants  to  be  adored. gets  turned  on  by  danger.

APOLLO:      glitz  and  glamour.    art  galleries.     turning  the  volume  up.    being  made  of  gold.     neatly-organized  music  sheets.     notebooks  filled  with  poetry.   bathing  in  the  sunlight.   the  powerful  urge  to  create.    collecting  vinyl  records.    beautiful  cover  of  wonderwall.     playing  multiple  instruments.     tasting  like  sunshine.   healing  touch. speaking  in  prophecies.   smile  mingled  with  wrath.    shunning  lies. sporting  shades. hanging  out  at  music  festivals  with  their  friends.    sleeps  naked. arrow  to  the  heart.   paint  brushes.     probably  has  a  tinder  account.

ARES: armed  for  battle.  wants  to  raise  a  dog  with  their  significant  other. soft  spot  for  children.    gives  piggyback  rides.   scarred  body.   blood  on  their   hands  and  face. willing  to  fight  the  world  for  the  ones  they  love. fights  against  injustice.   warm  hugs.    well-worn  combat  boots.  boxing gloves. bandages  wrapped  around  bruised  knuckles. fist  raised  in  protest.     ignites  revolutions.   fear  is  a  prison.     more  sensitive  than  what  their  tough  shell  would  have  you  think.   exhausted.  damaged  goods.   force  to  be  reckoned  with. red  roses.   curses  under  breath.

ARTEMIS:       keen  sense  of  a  hunter.       freckles  like  constellations  on  their  skin. piercing  eyes.   disheveled  braid.   moonlight  peeking  through  the  shadows.  the  calm  of  the  forest  at  night.      lying  on  the  grass  and  staring  at  the  stars. mother  doe  and  her  fawn.      protecting  their  kin.  the  moon  shimmering  on  a  still  lake.     quiver  full  of  arrows  resting  against  the  bark  of  a  tree.     running  with  wolves.  bonding  while  circled  around  a  campfire.     not  being  much  of  a  people  person.  arrow  hitting  a  target.   popping  egos.   patience  on  3%. touches  heaven  and  returns  howling.

ATHENA:     discerning  gaze.    unreadable  face.     quiet  museums.  owl  perched  on  their  finger.     armor  that  intimidates.     eye  for  architecture.     plays  the  sims  for  the  sole  purpose  of  building   houses.     studied  the  blade  while  everyone  else  was  busy  getting  laid.  big  fan  of  logic.     loves  brain  teasers.     ancient  buildings.     sweaters  in  neutrals  and  cool  colors.  hair  done  up.  can  kill  you  with  their  brain.  heads  to  the  library  often  to  research.   sharpened  pencils.   abs  that  can  cut  steel.   stoic  statues.     pottery classes.

DEMETER:     soil-covered  hands.   smile  that  can  bloom  flowers.    skin  loved  by  the  sun.    being  the  mom-friend. can  lift  you  and  your  friends.   flowers  kept  in  the  pockets  of  overalls.    takes  pride  in  their  beautiful  garden.    speaks  to  their  plants.       leaves  rustling  in  the  wind.     stalks  of  wheat.     picking  fruit.     greenhouses.   heart  as  strong  as  a  mountain.   values  simplicity.  daisies  dotted  across  a  collarbone. curls  crowned  with  flowers.    folded  pile  of  sweaters  in  warm  hues.  pulling  out  fresh-   baked  bread  out  of  the  oven  and  the  smell  wafting  through  the  air.

DIONYSUS:     drunk  shitposter.   on  their  sixth  glass  of  wine  before  you’ve  even  finished  your  second.   seductive  smirks. untamed curls.  rich  fabrics  on  dark  skin.     sleek-furred  panthers.   theater  masks.   stage  productions.   receiving  a  standing  ovation.    rose  caught  between  their  teeth.    being  the  baby  of  the  bunch.   wild  parties  that  last  from  sundown  to  sunup. creeping  vines.     inspiring  loyalty.  grand  opera  houses.    masquerade  balls.     rolls  of  film.     shattered  chandeliers  with  broken glass  scattered  across  the  wine-spilled  floor.    pouring  champagne  into  flutes.    lives  for  the   applause.

HEPHAESTUS:   the  calloused  hands  of  someone  who  knows  labor.      sweaty  brow.     flame  burning  in  their  eyes.    inventive  mind.   broad  shoulders. steampunk  goggles.    nuts  and  bolts  stored  away  in  little  boxes.    ashes.    striking  a  match.     blueprints  for  future  projects.     fixing  up  a  busted  up  car  and  giving  it  cool  upgrades.        wrestles  with  bitterness.   work  boots  have  seen  better  years.    wrinkled  plaid  shirts.   iron  melted  in  blazing  fire.    huge  jackets.   crafting  masterpieces.   greased-    stained  overalls.    fascination  with  robotics.    pain  is  fuel.   stack  of  weaponry.  even   their  muscles  have  muscles.

HERA:       resting  bitch  face.   dressed  to  the  nines.  cows  grazing  on  a  pasture.   cool  rain.  loving  and  hating  fiercely.     hand  clutching  a  string  of  pearls.     large  chandelier  with  glittering  crystals.    plays  the  sims  for  the  sole  purpose  of  killing  off  their  sims.     romance  to  realism.  pictures  of  the  sky  while  flying  on  a  plane. files  that  under  fuck  it.   downs  glasses  of  wine  as  they  relax  with  a  scented  bubble  bath  and  netflix.  like  their  selfie  or  you’re  grounded.   knows  57  convenient  ways  to  murder  a  man.   dark  eyes  that  penetrate  your  soul.   marble  and  gold.

HERMES:     devil-may-care  smile.   always  up-to-date  on  the  latest  technology.   will  steal  your  french  fries.   does  it  for  the vine.   shitposter.    puts  googly  eyes  on  everything.   meme  hoarder.   long  drives  on  the  highway.   ma  and  pop  diners.   spontaneous  road  trips.   folded  maps.   fingers  dancing  across  the  keyboard  of  a  laptop.     shooting  hoops  on  the  basketball  court.    chatting  up  strangers  as  you  all  journey  to  your  own  destinations.  goes  jogging  in  the  morning.  mixes  redbull  with  coffee.   menace  on  april fool’s. hoodies  and  sneakers.  

POSEIDON:    storm  with  skin.  colorful  coral  reefs.    waves  crashing  against  the  shore. stroking  the  soft  fur  of  a  cat. their  heart  pounding  as  their  horse’s  gentle  trot  speeds  into  a  gallop.   tousled  locks.    clothes  smeared  with  paint.   owns  several  sketchbooks  yet  always  yearns  to  own  more.   leather  jackets.  fondness  for  diy  projects.   handwriting  that  flows  across  the  page. nimble  fingers  playing  the  strings  of  a  violin.    velvety  singing  voice  that  haunts  dreams.   mood  as  ever-changing  as  the  sea.  the  roar  of  a  motorcycle.  compass  with  a  spinning arrow.

　Small sniffles came from the corner of the empty hut—almost empty hut, for the young boy blended with the shadows of his hiding space; sitting, hugging his knees close to him. He was sniffling, but he wasn’t crying—his lightly bruised cheek was dry, though his plastered eyelashes showed hints of a recent pouring.

　Hiiro’s words were fresh in his mind, resound of a recent argument that ended not quite well, but far better than some other times. At least the bruising was faint, and there was no big trace of blood sans the dried drop he had earlier wiped from the corner of his lips.

　Does he really, though? The question repeated over and over in his mind. Lately, Father had appeared quite irritable with every little disobedience, and every little hesitation the child had taken about upcoming requests. The masked ayakashi were more often around, awaiting for the man’s orders to relay punishment. Worst case, the Chiki swung in Father’s hand for something more blunt, quite more damaging and long-lasting.

　Today, it had just been an insignificant physical damage, thankfully. He was fine with staying at home today, anyway.

　　　　　　　　　　　　“We love you, Yaboku.”