#vld thace

@isshi69nikkei co ty ze mną robisz kobieto? Tak, zabrałam się za reread Tsevu-22. W skrócie, to nie był dobry pomysł. Kusi mnie rewatch Voltrona, a zdecydowanie nie mam na to czasu xD. Już i tak spędziłam trzy godziny rysując tego fanarta, po kawałeczku przez ostatni tydzień (a jestem na wakacjach i powinnam pływać w morzu zamiast siedzieć z tabletem xd).

W każdym bądź razie, zapomniałam jaki ten fik jest ciężki. Przysięgam, wczoraj na plaży myślałam, że się popłaczę (a czytam to drugi raz???).

Możliwe, że zostawię jakiś komentarz gdy doczytam do końca (jestem na rozdziale Rozważania). Chciałam tylko przypomnieć sobie fabułę, bo gubiłam się w ostatnich dwóch rozdziałach, a tu taka bomba emocjonalna. Serio, ja musiałam to wyprzeć xd.

With every hit he learned to roll with the impact better, getting up faster and faster, not allowing Kolivan a second to breathe. He punched while he deflected Kolivan’s weapon and missed. He kicked before he striked, learning and adapting based on what he saw Kolivan do. Not that it mattered. Keith hadn’t even managed to land one hit.

Keith had been told all his life by his father that he could do anything if he just set his mind to it. His dad had never lied before but Keith was starting to doubt it all the same. He wanted more than anything in the world, no the universe, to beat Kolivan, to get his knife, the only thing he had left, back and he would spill as much blood as he needed to get it back-

He had convinced himself that the reason he was failing was because this knife wasn’t his, it was similar but wrong, it fit into his hand wrong, it set against his belt wrong, it was too heavy and too light and at the same time, and it was all wrong. Kolivan could be beaten, he could escape, he could go back to a home that wasn’t there if he could just win but that was wrong too.

Keith could listen to his dad’s raspy voice again if he could hit harder. He could watch the sky bleed from twilight to dusk again on the porch if he could just move faster. He could feel wind in his hair and the ground rushing past him on his dad’s bike if he could just win.

A daze had taken over him, a delusional obsession deep in his gut that he believed with every fiber of his being that if he just did enough he could go home. He didn’t want to remember the fleets blocking out the sky, his father’s panicked voice, the tremors shaking the ground, the running, the smoke, the fire illuminating the blue glow of two crescents beneath cheeks as blood mixed with ash and his knife gleamed a little duller.

He had run away from it all, taken to a ship he didn’t recognize, pressed against people he didn’t know, drowning on dry land trying to breathe above the crowd towering over him-

And then Kolivan was there, a firm presence at his side that was wrong. It shouldn’t have been claws against his shoulder, it should have been his dad’s calloused hands. It shouldn’t be a pale multicolored face with a scar that ran down the side, it should have been his father’s with a nick above his eyebrow. He wanted to run, to feel sand under his feet, and run away as fast and far as he could because everything was wrong and nothing was going to change that. 

More than anything he was angry. More than that he was exhausted and he couldn’t run from that anymore as he sank to his knees, gasping for breath. It was a tiny rebellion, to show emotion when Kolivan had just told him not to. He glared up at him with all the fury his soul could produce, only for the taller Galran to kneel beside him.

“What do you want, Keith?” Kolivan asked indifferently, observing him with golden eyes.

“...I want my knife… back… it’s not… yours!” Keith heaved, scrambling to his knees.

“If you defeat me your weapon will be returned to you. But you must first learn how to defeat me. Knowledge is greater than power.” Kolivan stated so nonchalantly like it was simple. “You are powerful, you have survived through many endeavors, but you still cannot win. But you still must do what needs to be done.”

Keith’s gaze followed Kolivan’s blade as he dropped it, the sound echoing as soon as it hit the floor. He stared up in disbelief but he only waited. Keith watched the Blade lose its glow, no longer in Kolivan’s grasp. The insignia in the crossguard grew dark as he looked on impassively, waiting for the action Keith would take.

“You should have killed me by now,” Kolivan said calmly, like he knew Keith wouldn’t move. It snapped him from his shock, lunging for the hilt and crossing it with his own to rest barely an inch from Kolivan’s neck. Humiliation burned under his skin that he had to bend over to reach his height, but he still didn’t move, eyes not leaving Keith’s.

“You are granting me mercy. That was your first mistake,” Kolivan’s form blurred right in front of him and he didn’t even get the chance to nick him as Kolivan swept his legs out from under him. His stance mirrored the one Keith had taken not seconds ago, both swords hovering over his neck. Keith glared down at the swords, meeting Kolivan’s stare without flinching. It wasn’t like he had anything to lose.

“You are not powerful enough to grant mercy. You must permanently deal with your enemies to ensure they don’t hurt you or anyone else. Power is the ability to choose. The Blade of Marmora doesn’t have that option.” Kolivan lowered his sword. “Neither do you.”

Keith was quiet, no longer meeting his eyes. He only heard Kolivan sheath his own blade before setting down Keith’s own.

“Each blade is unique to every member. It is tied to your life force and bloodline. You should make your own in the forgery. Use the Luxite provided there sparingly, it is hard to gather these days.”

Before exiting Kolivan stopped, turning back to him. “Choose a new name. Your previous title has very obvious origins. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that your species is now very coveted by Alteans and Galrans which are currently the most powerful species in the galaxy. If you are to help the Blade of Marmora avenge your planet you must become one of us. Embrace your new duty to the universe… A purpose is a very important thing here. Don’t lose sight of your own.”

It took Keith a while to realize he had even left. The words and empty warnings floated through the empty space of his mind as he laid, motionless, on the floor. What did he want? What purpose did he even have here? What was even the point of getting off this shiny, cold floor?

Keith could have pondered those questions for the rest of his life. He could give up, right here, and never move again. The others probably wouldn’t even notice, if they even cared enough to. Who could blame him? A kid, alone, literally thrown into an unknown universe. The only planet he had ever known was destroyed before his eyes by a war he couldn’t even hope to understand. What could one helpless kid abandoned by the cosmos itself hope to do?

It was at that moment Keith decided he didn’t need hope. His dad had died helping people, and Keith would die doing the same thing. He wanted to avenge his planet, his dad, his home, his memories, even if he had to give up all of them to do it. Remembering would only tether him to the moment he lost it all. He didn’t have time for that. 

He forced himself to move, to crawl, to spite the world itself. The Blade of Marmora wanted to use him? Keith would use them right back to fuel the supernova of rage building in his chest. He would shed all the blood he needed to, enough to drown the stars themselves. He would destroy, maim, shatter and crush anything that got in his way. He would burn the sun itself even if it would only leave him with ashes.