#orphik

❛ No, they are not. ❜ Death and rebirth walked hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder. That was the nature of existence and it persisted now with her, the Phoenix. From ones own ashes could they not rise as the humans have said? ❛ It is a topic so adored that here and now, you and I, we speak of it as if the cycle had just occurred. ❜ The chance to smile hung over their head but they remained stone-faced. ❛ How human of me. ❜ 

        Like many things in this world she had come to know, things were inextricably linked. Light and dark, life and death, humans and the gods... The list went on and as it did, the threads linking everything together became more and more delicate ------ and infinitely more complex. But death and rebirth shared closer ties than most might think if only one stopped to look at the nature between the two.

❝   WELL──   ❞ however admirable a gesture, there’s something in his tone that says it may not be strictly necessary. not hitting anyone is hardly a difficult task, but the entity is of a rather unique circumstance. that they’re bloody called ENTITY speaks well enough to that. ❝   let’s not be hasty, now. perhaps anyone is a bit extreme.   ❞ 

far be it from mera to ask too much── especially of a creature beyond his comprehension. who knows how much wisdom they have to share? how much ancient knowledge is squirrelled away in that little elvhen shell. there could be a world-saving reason as to why they’re forced to strike someone! but mostly, if mera’s entirely honest, he just wants to watch them punch some poor sod in the face.  

Mason smiles, huge and sun - like, enormous like the gaping hole in the center of her breathing that makes her brain go all wrong and sick and and and and.  They ask and they must know and they must know and they must know.  She doesn’t mean to run away, but it happens, less in her legs and more in the soft hollow places of her throat and eyes --------- her loving but always prepared for the leaving.  Not her own (  she never walks away, even when she ought, even when tap tap tap tumbling down the stairs or holding her by her hair, i’ll kill you you dumb bitch  ) but OTHERS.  Others always leave.  If they are humans they die and if they are not they live and depart anyway.  She is perpetually perched on the edge of abandonment, ready to meet the pavement below and hoping that being ready will make it hurt less.  It doesn’t.

Mason smiles, huge and sun - like, enormous like the way her hurt digs into the soft of her organs, all - too human this life and all - too easy to wound.  Her hands reach out, shuddering, and grasp their fingers, hoping that the contact will drag her out of her body and into the world.  It helps.  Being so sick and sad isn’t so bad.  Always being ready for the leaving.  She can’t remember having the light of hope and surely losing it would be the worst part.  This --- the empty and the waiting and the smiling so bright that there’s no room to think about aloneness --- isn’t agony, really.  She tells herself.  She tells herself.