Inuyasha: Displacement of Guilt (Flaked Apart Mix)
[ Kohaku | G | 190 words ]
Kohaku visits the ruins of his village.
Original story: Changed by abraxas_ren, 132 words.
Remix author: numisma
Displacement of Guilt (Flaked Apart Mix)
He places a hand upon in front. The air is flat and hard; it refuses to budge with the press of his palm. Once, twice. That’s how he knows.
He ignores that, instead focusing his gaze on the sight before him. Scans the smoldering ruins laid out like a dead carcass in a green clearing. The wood is pliant with rot; skeletal structures sag; exuding from the buildings is a feeling that this place has been torn apart by demons and vultures.
It turns his stomach, the familiarity.
Home.
The air shimmers with heat he can’t feel pricking at his skin. The vibrant colors drain away. Hot wet trails burning down his cheeks, teeth gritted, he forms a fist and pounds with all his strength.
Pale lines form spiderwebs in all directions as the sky cracks, shatters. Along with it, the dead village flakes and crumbles to dust and splinters.
Body twitching upon the uncomfortable mat, Kohaku opens his eyes and flits his gaze around. As he takes in the dilapidated state of his surroundings he considers, for a moment, how fortunate he should feel, that he keeps forgetting his dreams after only a moment.
Kohaku visits the ruins of his village.
Original story: Changed by abraxas_ren, 132 words.
Remix author: numisma
Displacement of Guilt (Flaked Apart Mix)
He places a hand upon in front. The air is flat and hard; it refuses to budge with the press of his palm. Once, twice. That’s how he knows.
He ignores that, instead focusing his gaze on the sight before him. Scans the smoldering ruins laid out like a dead carcass in a green clearing. The wood is pliant with rot; skeletal structures sag; exuding from the buildings is a feeling that this place has been torn apart by demons and vultures.
It turns his stomach, the familiarity.
Home.
The air shimmers with heat he can’t feel pricking at his skin. The vibrant colors drain away. Hot wet trails burning down his cheeks, teeth gritted, he forms a fist and pounds with all his strength.
Pale lines form spiderwebs in all directions as the sky cracks, shatters. Along with it, the dead village flakes and crumbles to dust and splinters.
Body twitching upon the uncomfortable mat, Kohaku opens his eyes and flits his gaze around. As he takes in the dilapidated state of his surroundings he considers, for a moment, how fortunate he should feel, that he keeps forgetting his dreams after only a moment.