the fourteenth;
[private]
Sometimes I wonder just how far one can fall. Is there actually a rock bottom, or does it never end? When the earth trembles and breaks apart, and a person falls through, where do they end up? The weak will be swallowed by the molten core, but the strong will persevere and fight through it, ending up on the other side. They'll be an entirely different person, but they will be standing on two feet.
So where am I? I suppose this would be limbo in a way, and I the existential denizen among countless others. That is the most I can allow to call myself these days. Not a hero, and surely not a champion. The vampires with souls have that covered. Even Charles, in his unpropitious mistakes, has done more good than I can hope to. He did, after all, give the ultimate sacrifice.
...No, of course this isn't limbo. How foolish of me to give myself that much credit. Hell is at it's finest hour, and I am the weak one who has been completely swallowed. And what colors reside here? Not red and white as one might think, but blue and grey.
How right you were, Lilah. I envied you that resolve; knowing just where you were, and where I would end up. That evil place, perhaps it has proven only more-so that some really are beyond redemption. Only one was above it all; fit to rule Heaven if she had seen fit. She did not belong there. She did not deserve to be swallowed and consumed like that. Were I man of faith, I'd still be cursing God.
And what does Illyria deserve? Where does she stand? "But if I could," she says.
That truly is...the million dollar question, isn't it?
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."
[/private]
[ text || comments are screened ]
What makes you vulnerable?
Sometimes I wonder just how far one can fall. Is there actually a rock bottom, or does it never end? When the earth trembles and breaks apart, and a person falls through, where do they end up? The weak will be swallowed by the molten core, but the strong will persevere and fight through it, ending up on the other side. They'll be an entirely different person, but they will be standing on two feet.
So where am I? I suppose this would be limbo in a way, and I the existential denizen among countless others. That is the most I can allow to call myself these days. Not a hero, and surely not a champion. The vampires with souls have that covered. Even Charles, in his unpropitious mistakes, has done more good than I can hope to. He did, after all, give the ultimate sacrifice.
...No, of course this isn't limbo. How foolish of me to give myself that much credit. Hell is at it's finest hour, and I am the weak one who has been completely swallowed. And what colors reside here? Not red and white as one might think, but blue and grey.
How right you were, Lilah. I envied you that resolve; knowing just where you were, and where I would end up. That evil place, perhaps it has proven only more-so that some really are beyond redemption. Only one was above it all; fit to rule Heaven if she had seen fit. She did not belong there. She did not deserve to be swallowed and consumed like that. Were I man of faith, I'd still be cursing God.
And what does Illyria deserve? Where does she stand? "But if I could," she says.
That truly is...the million dollar question, isn't it?
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."
[/private]
[ text || comments are screened ]
What makes you vulnerable?