creative_muses "Oily feathers in bronze and concrete, Faded colors, pieces left incomple
The Fool
It wasn't about age. That was just a number, and in inconsequential one at that. He would admit his life was a numbers game (X5-331845739494), he'd been playing the odds since he'd gone from nothing to twin. Zero to two, skipping right over being number one. He used to be bitter about being second best. He stayed X5-331845739494 instead of Ben. Now it felt like learning from someone else's mistakes. But still number two was close enough to number one to get the fall out. All the kicked up dust, but none of the recognition or clear view. It was covered in a haze.
Like the actual day he was born. It was in his file he was sure, but it was just another number lost in the haze. In the empty rooms that were inside that file, that medical chart. The psychological work ups and break downs. Just clinical photos of empty rooms, filled with things he'd never have the stomach to look at.
He picked a day, played the odds. Russian Roulette. And the X5s came up dead even. He'd lost CeCe, his second. Second place never saved anyone. But they'd gotten Eve. The first of them to not have to play the same numbers game. She didn't already have a hand dealt to her. It wasn't across her neck in black. So he gladly gave up his birthday to her. She had earned it, making it into the world in one piece. It was a better use for the day. The birth of a little girl and a nation. Even if it was behind a wire and filled with freaks.
They could have it. He wouldn't celebrate being alive the day his sister died. It was a joke really. The way he never seemed to die. So he went with April 1st. Some days he wasn't sure which way the numbers were leaning. Whether the joke was on the world that he just wouldn't give in, or on him because he was still here. It suited him.
Muse: Alec McDowell/X5-494
Fandom: Dark Angel
Word count: 340
Open to RP
It wasn't about age. That was just a number, and in inconsequential one at that. He would admit his life was a numbers game (X5-331845739494), he'd been playing the odds since he'd gone from nothing to twin. Zero to two, skipping right over being number one. He used to be bitter about being second best. He stayed X5-331845739494 instead of Ben. Now it felt like learning from someone else's mistakes. But still number two was close enough to number one to get the fall out. All the kicked up dust, but none of the recognition or clear view. It was covered in a haze.
Like the actual day he was born. It was in his file he was sure, but it was just another number lost in the haze. In the empty rooms that were inside that file, that medical chart. The psychological work ups and break downs. Just clinical photos of empty rooms, filled with things he'd never have the stomach to look at.
He picked a day, played the odds. Russian Roulette. And the X5s came up dead even. He'd lost CeCe, his second. Second place never saved anyone. But they'd gotten Eve. The first of them to not have to play the same numbers game. She didn't already have a hand dealt to her. It wasn't across her neck in black. So he gladly gave up his birthday to her. She had earned it, making it into the world in one piece. It was a better use for the day. The birth of a little girl and a nation. Even if it was behind a wire and filled with freaks.
They could have it. He wouldn't celebrate being alive the day his sister died. It was a joke really. The way he never seemed to die. So he went with April 1st. Some days he wasn't sure which way the numbers were leaning. Whether the joke was on the world that he just wouldn't give in, or on him because he was still here. It suited him.
Muse: Alec McDowell/X5-494
Fandom: Dark Angel
Word count: 340
Open to RP