Who said my headspace was quiet?
I think by now it's rather obvious that I ship Valenwind pretty hardcore, but I'm going back to my roots with this one guys. I've always loved Sephiroth*. The character is extremely tragic and his subtle depth is truly limitless. I would be grievously remiss to fail to mention that it was Sephiroth* who really got me jonesing on Final Fantasy*, and my love for Vincent* (and Cid*!) was the ultimate result of that initial... obsession, as well as meeting some really special, beautiful people, some of whom have become my very dear friends, and because of that fascination I've always wanted to explore Sephiroth's* character more, to claw my way into his headspace and have a throw-down. Maybe this is just the beginning, who knows? That being said, the urge to write this* came on very suddenly, and this is not beta'd, it's very rough, so I beg the reader's forgiveness. This muse stays largely silent so when he wants to speak I have to let him, the poor thing, and I hope I can give his voice some justice. Likewise the posting of this is spontaneous and the product of peer pressure, you know who you are *hugs*. Icon-love gifted by the ever beautifully epic madisuzy: you blow my mind darlin', am I lucky? Hell yeah I'm lucky! And finally, to Sephiroth*: thanks, big guy.
Chrysalis
I remember seeing a chrysalis once. My father showed it to me. Well, he wasn’t my father so much as he was the man who raised me. But that by definition makes him my father does it not? He showed me the chrysalis and told me that a butterfly slept within, safe from the turning of the world and oblivious to what happened outside of its cocoon. It’s strange, how that analogy applies to my life now. I stopped fighting, I got too tired. I remember reading books as a child, great dusty tomes of legends and ancient civilizations. I remember scoffing at the weakness of the heroes, of lifting my lip in scorn as they lost their fights because they became too difficult, or their paths grew too faded from their eye.
Hmph.
There is a reason why youth does not run the world.
I never expected fighting to be this hard, and I never saw the cracks in my will until it was too late. I understand those tragic ends now. I understand because I am one.
I suppose I could fight, I could raise my head and roar my defiance, but why? What reason do I have? Does anyone fight for me? Does anyone care? No one did when I belonged to myself, when I possessed my mind, so why would it be different now?
It’s quiet here, peaceful and warm. Of course I am alone and it is dark, but I prefer it this way. It’s so less complicated without the fear and perpetual confusion. Who wants the tangled webs of relationships and the politics of the heart? I almost gave in… once. I entertained the thought of giving of myself and taking from another in return, but in the end I couldn’t do it. I was too removed, too different- but I had tried… I had tried. And the darkness? The darkness is a blessing when sharp eyes saw too much.
Only once was there light. Only once was my dark void ripped asunder to let in a scream. I remember covering my ears and shutting my eyes, of trying to get away. But I could no more hide from that scream than I could deny who I was. I remember regaining the use of my eyes and opening them, of gasping for breath and nearly choking on acidic air, the weight of my body rotting around me and the waning energy as I was slowly swallowed again. I had looked up into eyes so blue that at first I thought it was the sky and I remember thinking, “Am I free?”
That blind hope was crushed as I raised my arms and thrust with that hated blade, my movements no longer my own and I remembered my eyes flying wide in terror right before that darkness devoured me once more. Back into the chrysalis I went to once again become oblivious to the world around me, but not before something was awakened within me and I was reminded of pain. So much pain; the pain of wounds, the pain of betrayal, the pain of learning the truth…
No one fought for me. No one fights for me still and I continue to prefer the darkness and the silence. But I remember honor. I remember being trained to strive for it and I remember pride. I used to be so strong, so convinced of my path before it faded from my eyes. I am now faced with a choice: Do I remain here, languishing to have my soul rot away around me? Or do I remain to grow stronger, to change into something greater than I was when I belonged to myself? Do I embrace a preordained and selfish destiny or do I make my own? Is that miracle that is called free will, that is so oft taken for granted- is it so far gone that I cannot take back my own mind? We shall see, won’t we.
Hm.
I wonder…
I wonder what color my wings will be when I finally break free…
~Fin~
(* standard disclaimers and copyright acknowledgments apply.)
Chrysalis
I remember seeing a chrysalis once. My father showed it to me. Well, he wasn’t my father so much as he was the man who raised me. But that by definition makes him my father does it not? He showed me the chrysalis and told me that a butterfly slept within, safe from the turning of the world and oblivious to what happened outside of its cocoon. It’s strange, how that analogy applies to my life now. I stopped fighting, I got too tired. I remember reading books as a child, great dusty tomes of legends and ancient civilizations. I remember scoffing at the weakness of the heroes, of lifting my lip in scorn as they lost their fights because they became too difficult, or their paths grew too faded from their eye.
Hmph.
There is a reason why youth does not run the world.
I never expected fighting to be this hard, and I never saw the cracks in my will until it was too late. I understand those tragic ends now. I understand because I am one.
I suppose I could fight, I could raise my head and roar my defiance, but why? What reason do I have? Does anyone fight for me? Does anyone care? No one did when I belonged to myself, when I possessed my mind, so why would it be different now?
It’s quiet here, peaceful and warm. Of course I am alone and it is dark, but I prefer it this way. It’s so less complicated without the fear and perpetual confusion. Who wants the tangled webs of relationships and the politics of the heart? I almost gave in… once. I entertained the thought of giving of myself and taking from another in return, but in the end I couldn’t do it. I was too removed, too different- but I had tried… I had tried. And the darkness? The darkness is a blessing when sharp eyes saw too much.
Only once was there light. Only once was my dark void ripped asunder to let in a scream. I remember covering my ears and shutting my eyes, of trying to get away. But I could no more hide from that scream than I could deny who I was. I remember regaining the use of my eyes and opening them, of gasping for breath and nearly choking on acidic air, the weight of my body rotting around me and the waning energy as I was slowly swallowed again. I had looked up into eyes so blue that at first I thought it was the sky and I remember thinking, “Am I free?”
That blind hope was crushed as I raised my arms and thrust with that hated blade, my movements no longer my own and I remembered my eyes flying wide in terror right before that darkness devoured me once more. Back into the chrysalis I went to once again become oblivious to the world around me, but not before something was awakened within me and I was reminded of pain. So much pain; the pain of wounds, the pain of betrayal, the pain of learning the truth…
No one fought for me. No one fights for me still and I continue to prefer the darkness and the silence. But I remember honor. I remember being trained to strive for it and I remember pride. I used to be so strong, so convinced of my path before it faded from my eyes. I am now faced with a choice: Do I remain here, languishing to have my soul rot away around me? Or do I remain to grow stronger, to change into something greater than I was when I belonged to myself? Do I embrace a preordained and selfish destiny or do I make my own? Is that miracle that is called free will, that is so oft taken for granted- is it so far gone that I cannot take back my own mind? We shall see, won’t we.
Hm.
I wonder…
I wonder what color my wings will be when I finally break free…
~Fin~
(* standard disclaimers and copyright acknowledgments apply.)