#fourfolded

    wild embers starters.  /  accepting.  ( @fourfolded. )

 SHE CAN’T DENY it.  umi has always known her,  seen the cracks between her words and measured their depth.  kanan has tried to shy from her gaze many times before;  there is fear there,  in her heart.  at the core of it all lies a deep-set fear of being known,  one her companion knows well enough to prod at.  she means well.  perhaps umi is angry with her for hiding so  –  many others are.  

“would you tell me about it... about othard?” she asks with a soft voice. “I... for the longest of times, I never had known any other raen but my parents. I have no memories of these places they call home.” part of it does not even make sense to her - her father talking about a city underneath the waves of the sea, filled with raen. all of it sounded too fantastical in her mind.

“I understand you might be busy but” stepping from one foot onto the other, something akin to a smile appears on her face “I don’t know who else to ask.”

so you’re finally awake

   IN THE AFTERMATH OF BATTLE, when the wind is soft across the field and the breaths heavy are but chimes, everything turns still and silent. The battlefield a painting. The blood and gore nothing but objects to fit in this pretty picture of oil, and bodies so beautiful as they lay praying. He is tired, so tired, the eyes heavy and the body sore, but he does not rest. 

   A hand reaches out to Umiko, a rather weak smile upon his face as she takes his hand and pulls herself up. There is relief to see that she is fine, that he had come in time to protect her from a blow unseen, and that the most possibly wounded is, perhaps, her pride from falling over in the shock. But he mentions nothing to her. For it was done not to expect anything from her, but because it was because he had to.

some meme

   HOW LONG HAD IT BEEN? Those days long since passed since he felt the calm reassuring hand upon his shoulder to murmur a quiet whisper that all things would be fine. He could hardly remember those times. Happier in his life, half a decade ago, where his love would always bend down to offer a calming hand. Their flames burning bright. Always him to draw Absalon from those cold coffins of depression and anguish. The love he held that welcoming blanket of those cold nights, and even more the rock to keep him anchored and stay Absalon balanced. 

   When was the last time? he wondered. Was it their final meeting? Their final farewell as Absalon held Distr’a bloody (was it even being rescued if it put him down this path)? Or was it before then? Even further away those years? So far gone he could hardly remember them? 

   Frankly, Distra didn’t want to remember. Couldn’t bring himself to. How could he? Not when he wasn’t that OTHER person, not when he had changed so much, becoming this. “I don’t know,” he shrugs almost nonchalantly. Almost as if it didn’t bother him (it did, it made him want to drop this facade and live as himself). 

IN MY DREAMS, I SEE THAT TOWN….. (accepting)

   “MONSTERS. DRAGONS. They’re all the same to me.” There is a faint look of disgust on his features. Pretty looks could not hide the malice that he drunk upon the kill. Flesh spilling out from beneath them. The snow turned red. Brilliant green scales glittered in the high sun as it all but tainted this place with death. He held no remorse for that which lived hundreds past their lifetimes, that held knowledge beyond fathomable. All gone into nothing. His small bit of vengeance accomplished for killing Naul. “I am sure they see us in the same light. Perhaps insects.”