stand there and hear me cry (it's all right) because i love the way you lie {COMPLETE}
| PRESENT ;
| caim & dai ;
| nice job guys :| ;
| somewhere towards the end of this game pillar event ;
| some random open cell area, the prison. it's kind of scary in there. ;
| notes/rating/warnings: NC-17 for really not nice violence.
| EVENT; COMPLETE
They say that humans never learn, that humanity and its likenesses will always be doomed to repeat past mistakes, to repeat the dreaded flaws that seemed so obviously the wrong choice in hindsight.
He always took those words with a grain of salt-- always had-- even when they were taught from a book or through a hit to the face during learning swordplay. He had promised once long ago that he'd never be so foolish to make regrettable choices. And when he did, he promised to never repeat ever repeat them.
Gloves seared raw slammed against the wall, worn and destroyed but still futilely trying to cover and protect skin that rarely saw the light of day. So futile that that pale skin was torn into and burned and bleeding in a way that Caim was sure at points he'd only dreamed, that he'd never truly experienced this sort of pain before, the familiar rotting pain of burn marks on his fingertips, ripping away their sense of touch into numbness.
He griped at the wall tried to clutch onto something (in between the sealing, at the edges of the stone's odd shapes, at anything hanging out that could be grabbed) and failed miserably, having to use his shoulder instead. The young magister heaved for air, lifting his head up enough to take a look around the small area he'd slipped into. How long had this been going on, exactly, he started to wonder. How long and why was it still happening?
He'd done things differently, he'd avoided repeating it all again, so why was this so familiar, this sudden feeling of hopelessness coating the inside of his chest? It was a hard pressed feeling to endure ( one of loss and fear, of hatred and denial, of order and duty and betrayal and greed and love and regret all swallowed into a cauldron and tempered into something he couldn't--). It stripped meaning away from life with each passing second, made Caim unable to know where feelings he'd once felt so strongly (finally, finally after such a long time) were falling away to.
Hopeless. It was a hopeless endeavor, and he'd perhaps not made all the same choices as last time, but he made the same ones that mattered and replaced all the others with just as equally insane decisions. To have ever thought these foreigners would be competent even when their own lives were at stake was a truly foolish and fatal assumption.
They were not going to do what was needed to be done in time, were they? They would not manage to break those glyphs, to reset the planes, to prevent those master childs from descending into physical form and wrecking destruction upon the city (--until it cracked like fire snapping and shattered into the nothingness left by ice).
He'd made the wrong choice. And it was once again all boiling down to a consequence he would not be able to properly learn from. It was so different from how he planned, so insanely wrong and no, it wasn't supposed to happen like this, what was going on ? -why was he like this?!
That wasn't him, that rage and terror was not his- not all of it, at least. And at first, the Ice Magister hadn't understood, at first he'd been too surprised to consider the options. All he knew was that he had no choice but to accept circumstance and trust in the foreigners that had failed more often than they had succeeded (and yet they'd gotten this far so who was he to accuse?). That was at first, but by now after encounter after encounter, playing cat and mouse without a chance in hell of finding a hole to scurry into and hide in, Caim knew that there was something else there that wasn't the other. Or, never used to be part of the other. But, he wasn't so stupid as to think he would be able to reason with Dai, he wasn't so presumptuous to think that the Fire Magister would respond to his coaxing.
He couldn't run anymore, couldn't withstand the lack of energy from using a severely handicapped rune in the worst of conditions, he couldn't tolerate the wounds that had been eating away at him and been added to each time he made a wrong turn. All this running and hiding and absolute bullshit for nothing. Because they were going to fail. Caim's hand slipped into his pocket, grasping tightly at the folded piece of paper tucked away, and he knew that he was at fault for ever thinking this would happen any other way.
They always left, didn't they? They were only out for themselves, and even then they were too hopeless to even successfully save their own pathetic excuses.
Correction, one hadn't left. And that hadn't changed, either. (He pushes himself off the wall to turn--) Because as much as Caim said it, accused Dai of leaving him, he had been the last one there at Caim's last breath. And here, too, there was no one in vicinity but the very same person, with the very same intent shown in those eyes. The difference was now the intent to kill was the only thing there. (He takes a deep breath, swallowing back the threat of something hotter than any burns and wounds he's acquired from spilling --oh christ was he really---), not because he thought this was to turn out any differently.
(He doesn't get to turn because he's suddenly slammed right back into the wall where he'd been a second ago without any care, a small grunt of pain escaping him on impact because really, this is the last thing he needs at the moment).
It's simply because he should have never tried to do anything differently at all.