#battlemade

     ❝And yet you still consider yourself fit to lead your armies.❞ Blake crawled away from him on arms and legs, clutching tightly to her aching side. Her voice was filled with the firm resolution and purpose she knew she was put on this earth to fight for. Wearing radiant confidence– newfound, refreshed and it looked so good on her. She knew was losing this fight– wasn’t underestimating him. She knew she wasn’t strong enough to take him on all by herself. Still; no longer would she hold herself back with him. Instead, she’d tell him the truths she’d started realizing when she began to distance herself from him. The truths she’d always condemned to her mind, for fear of hurting him. For she had nothing left to lose now, except her life. He spoke that he was damned like he was proud of it. And she wanted nothing more than to vanquish the monster from his countenance. ❝Turning against your own kind. And for what–? They don’t agree with your way of thinking?❞

Pinned against the wall now– there was no place to hide, no place to run. Slowly, she untied her bow and let it fall, her eyes never leaving him. ❝I haven’t forgotten who I am.❞ Her voice was close to crumbling, but she maintained her tone– even as he approached, ❝Although maybe you have. Right now, you’re just wasting precious time. Justifying what you’re doing by calling me a traitor.❞

❝’Violence is the only method that yields results.’ Well, look around.❞ She gestured to the fighting amidst them– the tortured screams and howls, ❝Is this the world you envisioned?❞

Fighting trembling, aching bones– she pulled herself back up to her feet, arms lifted at the ready to defend. Eyes glimmering with an unspoken challenge. She was asking him to take a long, hard look at himself. To search through the dark, gaping void his soul had become, for just a fragment– a piece of his past self.

     ❝Funny.❞ Blake mumbled– despite the utter lack of humor she found in this coincidence. She shifted half a step back, closing her book as she risked a glance up at him. Wearing a golden gaze, sharpened to dissect his intentions– when she sees only his mask and not his eyes, she fastened her stare pon the mud at their feet instead. She wasn’t surprised– why would she expect to see anything different this time? Her words towards him neither carry hostility or a lilt with her commonplace wit– rather, they’re quiet. Contemplative, small, as though they could disappear. She used to share her dreams with him. Now, they were an eternal prisoner in her mind– forever unspoken. Hinted only on her countenance. ❝’Cause I had a nightmare about you.❞

Perhaps the things he dreamed about and the things she had nightmares about were the same exact thing. T’was just their minds– framing the same world through different eyes. A future world drowning in deep shades of red that reminded her of him– alit with the fires of revolution he spoke so resolutely of. 

     She’s quick to try and hide the fact that she’d been feeling melancholic– albeit fooling him, even with their recent estrangement, was a challenging feat. After he’d left on a task that morning, she hadn’t anticipated his arrival for at least another four to six hours. It’d taken her by surprise and he’d caught her in a vulnerable state– one she reserved exclusively for hours of privacy, the few moments she had all to herself. The time she took to breathe and try to sort through everything she kept bottled up inside. For the pages of her books no longer offered sanctuary– rather, her thoughts strayed to bloodshed. To questioning her own morality, to whether or not it was okay to stay here, pretending to turn a blind eye. Recently, she’d been deliberating running away. And the more she thought about it, the more she craved it. A life free of the White Fang’s influence and violence, a life where she could strive to achieve their goals in a way which she deemed just. And, perchance, she’d been mourning over the fact that she could no longer tell Adam everything. He used to be the person she’d entrust all her thoughts to. But as he changed, the space between them grew– as did an uncomfortable silence. She missed him. But there was no way in hell that she could tell him what was on her mind. It’d hurt him. And worse, she feared that it’d make him angry. She’d seen him deal with ‘traitors’ recently– and, well, with the thoughts of running fresh in her mind… she’d be one soon enough. 

The idea of speaking makes her sick to her stomach. If she confided in him, would he tangle and twist her values, use them against her– persuade her to discard them like he had? He had a way of doing that, embellishing his views to a point where they seemed so irresistible. And for that he could lead armies. And she cared about him so much that maybe, just maybe he’d convince her to believe a lie he’d been telling himself all this time. So many words inside her remain unspoken, each one hurts. Yet she knows they’d wound him more. And thus she carries them only in her mind, a place where he can’t find them. In part she knows the longer she delays this encounter, the worse it will be. Yet the consequences and the future are swallowed by fear in the present.

She fights away at her sorrow and puts on a brave face. The fear, and she shakes her head. (No– I can’t. I can’t tell you anything… not anymore.)

YE OLDE KISS MEME || SELECTIVELY ACCEPTING.  

fuc koff dad thats gay,

         “I... don’t think I can.” 

She can’t look at him, so she stares at her hands instead as she listens to his response. Her voice seems so small in the midst of the blossoming violence. Her opinion didn’t even seem to matter anymore-- all those in power favored malicious tactics. If it were up to her, she would suggest reattempting protest and compromise. A method that, sadly, did not work as quickly as her brothers in the White Fang had once hoped in the past. Was bloodshed, borderline revolution really the only way to make a difference in this world? To change the minds of the general public by force, by planting seeds of fear in their minds?

If anything, she wanted to be looked at as an equal. Not as someone lesser or inferior. But she also didn’t want to be looked upon with fear. How was she supposed to find middle ground, in her current situation? It seemed near impossible. And the White Fang was taking an inevitable spiral in the darkest of directions. And Adam, he wasn’t the same. Surely if he kept going, he’d destroy himself in the process. Surely she knew he wanted what was best for the faunus. As did anyone who approached the White Fang had a cause, a purpose. A reason to live, to fight for their kind. She once respected his views, now she worries herself sick.