#conqucst

┊ ❛  ❈  ⊱     meme    &    @conqucst​      ‹  not accepting  ›

        ❛    had i known you’d carry me around ,    i’d sprain my ankle more often .   `      blithe tonality ,    it’s lightheartedness masks the   morbidness   of her   ‘joke’     ————     after all ,    who wishes for misfortune  ‘pon themselves   ?

                               she who’s come to terms with death’s impending arrival .

         ❪    the thought used to sadden you ,   drain you of what little light left ;    how does one smile when the grains of time slipped through your fingers   ?     the reaper’s scythe always in your view     ———     almost  out of sight ,    but never truly out of mind     ❫ .     yet ,    legs still swing with    child - like   exuberance ,    as if she doesn’t feel the   HEAVINESS   in her limbs     &     the imminent bed rest to come .    

                                        how tragic ,   to become blasé to death .                                                    —————     her death .

           she disagrees .    blasé she may be ,   it’s confounding the perspective one takes in situations as these .     had her lungs been strong     /     had she not acquaint isolation ,    perhaps she’d become one of many     ❪     a vassal drawn by strings     ❫ .     heart’s made peace with path well - worn .     instead ocean blues take in the scenery     ————     the world was much   prettier    up here ,    not as crowded .    calmer     ❪    as the breeze  ‘cross her face     &     the steady thrum of his heart     ❫ .     though a little inkling told her the  view  wasn’t the source of her solace .

it’s a lethargy that anchors in weary - bones.    where woe intertwines with each thrum of their hearts,    absence woven into that hollow crevice.    eyes which once reflect each other’s silhouette now dare not meet.

time heals all wounds.    fanciful poetry     &     nothing more.    fabricated by the ignorant,    a tale to lessen the hurt.     but now they know better.     their wounds fester with time,    today their wounds still bleed     ———     a throbbing that still resonates  ...    time does not heal wounds.    the pain is etched to your skin     &     becomes a part of you.

GUILT.    it gnaws     &     gnaws  ‘till  she’s nothing but bones.    it lurks in the shadows     /     creeping     /     stalking.    a predator who waits for darkness to fall     (    the shadows it’s crown    ).    her fear it’s nourishment     ———     it became a monster who no longer hides under her bed.

          their home is reaped of laughter     /     death,    a thief,    relentless.    pieces that once meld together are jarred     &     rough.      they don’t fit anymore.      shared pain   DIVIDES   when they need each other most.     every night,    he takes her into his arms,    yet as dawn arrives,    their backs are to each other     (    isolation their companions    ).

          she wakes     ———     the   darkness   that envelops her are no different than those within her mind.     amidst this  solitude  he was always near,    but tonight the space beside her was cold.    tears she thought has  dried  stung her eyes.

                                    `     please,    i can’t lose you too.     `

          with nothing but a shawl  ‘pon frail shoulders,      (     her heart   hammers   ‘gainst it’s cage     )      she searches for him.     her breathe hitches at the sight     ———     EXHAUSTION   did not cradle him within her embrace.     despair     did not let him off easy.     no,    both   taunted   him with his   defeat.     placed their infant’s weight  ‘pon  his shoulders as they   stripped   him of his crown     &     conquered his throne.

                                     WHAT’S LEFT OF HER HEART ACHED. 

          she enveloped his tightly clenched fists,     bringing them up to her lips     /     each touch light.     his grip loosens to reveal deep nail marks     &     dried blood staining his palms   ...    but without care she places his hands on her cheek,    ocean blues never left his face     (    hoping he’d finally meet her eyes    ).

─「凛」─  “ t-those --- how are you --- that’s not --- ” alright, let’s just say that she had forgotten how he was someone CURIOUS by nature and he tended to find things she didn’t even know she had, or things she didn’t want him to see. the said books were one of those things. “ w-what were you doing in my bedroom !? or under my bed, for that matter --- a-anyway --- !! ”

                “ girls in my class were talking about it ... so i got ... curious. that’s all. THAT’S ALL !! IT WAS HARMLESS CURIOSITY !! ”

@conqucst

                        【♛】——   A TREMOR TRANSPIRES THROUGHOUT THE KING’S HAND from laying emerald irises before it. Each digit ceases movement until the King of Knights forces a tightened grip. She handled this dread without issues, dealt with it alone as a proper King should. Those burdens weren’t for anyone else to bear witness nor can she expect them to take them away. The King refuses to let go, refuses to suppress those sentiments no matter how ‘  free  ’ she has finally become. Saber nearly quivered underneath her mouth but restrained those eyes from squinting a single tear. The weakness laying through the King’s face is unbearable …   understanding how she can’t afford to show signs of weakness. Footsteps halt their next step, laying against the wall within these empty hallways of Chaldea to sense a cool sensation around her cheek. Her tears finally began streaming down after keeping an effort to hold them back. The memory played back to that lonely hilltop, the corpses of her army surrounding the King, only waiting for a voice to call forth the King of Britain into war once more.

                        THE CYCLE NEVER ENDED AS THE KING SOON ABANDONED HOPE, abandoned any miracle to reach out but her desperation was strong. Her determination to set foot into this self-destructive cycle was addictive like a drug. Saber wouldn’t abandon her ideals, no matter how many voices wished to mock her. Tossing away any victory among the past life the King endured, emerald irises were quick to gaze at the armored hand. Excalibur’s image burns within her palms as a norm, for the warrior is destined to repeat it. Yet she’s forgetting what the King truly fought for whenever thinking about the pain. Those scars won’t ever abandon the King of Knight’s memory …   neither will she forget the people who shaped them. Before turning away to head back into her dorm, familiar steps draw near and stands in front of the small King. Saber tilts her head up to notice the red cap of ALEXANDER the Great ———— how humiliating, she ponders.

                        ARMS ARE QUICK TO WIPE A KING’S TEARS FROM THOSE EYES but they resume their flow. She attempts to offer an explanation through their trading silence, letting emerald irises continue to cry. The King of Knights delivers a shaking tone though is met with a surprising embrace. Muscular arms wrap around Saber’s form, pulling the King into his body without hesitation. Eyes widened intently from this gesture and quick to react with hands pushing against the other King’s chest. Yet arms refused to break apart from the King’s shaking body, only to tighten more. She hadn’t grown used to affections that soften someone as Arturia into a melting state …   a state where she’ll calm herself. Tears began to stain through the attire he was wearing, making it obvious the King was crying. She didn’t understand why he resorted to doing this though her body is starting to calm down underneath those rubs applied against the King’s back.   ❝   W—Why do you embrace me like this, Alexander? I believed you have called me foolish for how I stood for my ideals. These are …   ❞   The soothing sounds of the King of Conqueror’s heartbeat calmed her own body, surrendering to him.

                                                               I cannot weep, I ————                                                         I cannot permit myself to be this way.

You shall not go anywhere