Week 10
Title: Raise the Cross
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia: KoR, I guess. (Well . . . ToS with some inspiration from KoR is closer to the truth.)
Character(s): Lloyd.
Rating: T. (Whatever, I just rate everything teen. /: )
Prompt: All three for week ten. :D;;
Other: Spoilers, a depressed Lloyd. (Oh, good god, not that. D8< ) Ah, also, this totals at 331 words.
Palmacosta was rubble against the coastline, its old buildings broken and off-white, and left as bones in the sunlight. Dead and rotting, he thought, its insides furniture and the twisted limbs of the Great Tree-- they jutted out like dried veins, writhing into every direction.
He watched it below the sunset, and wondered how the Blood Purge came into being; maybe a ghost, or a curse. Something left behind to whisper in his skull, because he could imagine the screams as they ripped through the countryside. Faces he swore to save from the Desians, torn through by his own creations, and given no burials or condolences. Faces who deserved their hatred-- they could hate him, hit him, spit on his memory. Anything other than the dead quiet he felt now, thundering through the hills!
A shiver ran through him, and he remembered that Phaidra preached, "Death is merely a human evil. If you are a good boy, you will go to heaven, Lloyd." He believed it then, when children believe anything. When Genis was an elf, when Collette was a man-made god. When he was mad, as Mithos was mad-- a blind, stupid child alive only by strutting across the grave markers. They were long since dead, and nothing would bring them back. There was no heaven or goddess, like there were no heroes-- he let them die, and promised he would save everyone! How low he'd fucking fallen, all his idealism worthless!
He felt his knees give out and crumpled to the ground, blood-colored gloves digging into the sand as Palmacosta decayed without any crosses to raise.
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia: KoR, I guess. (Well . . . ToS with some inspiration from KoR is closer to the truth.)
Character(s): Lloyd.
Rating: T. (Whatever, I just rate everything teen. /: )
Prompt: All three for week ten. :D;;
Other: Spoilers, a depressed Lloyd. (Oh, good god, not that. D8< ) Ah, also, this totals at 331 words.
Palmacosta was rubble against the coastline, its old buildings broken and off-white, and left as bones in the sunlight. Dead and rotting, he thought, its insides furniture and the twisted limbs of the Great Tree-- they jutted out like dried veins, writhing into every direction.
He watched it below the sunset, and wondered how the Blood Purge came into being; maybe a ghost, or a curse. Something left behind to whisper in his skull, because he could imagine the screams as they ripped through the countryside. Faces he swore to save from the Desians, torn through by his own creations, and given no burials or condolences. Faces who deserved their hatred-- they could hate him, hit him, spit on his memory. Anything other than the dead quiet he felt now, thundering through the hills!
A shiver ran through him, and he remembered that Phaidra preached, "Death is merely a human evil. If you are a good boy, you will go to heaven, Lloyd." He believed it then, when children believe anything. When Genis was an elf, when Collette was a man-made god. When he was mad, as Mithos was mad-- a blind, stupid child alive only by strutting across the grave markers. They were long since dead, and nothing would bring them back. There was no heaven or goddess, like there were no heroes-- he let them die, and promised he would save everyone! How low he'd fucking fallen, all his idealism worthless!
He felt his knees give out and crumpled to the ground, blood-colored gloves digging into the sand as Palmacosta decayed without any crosses to raise.