Entropy
- Adrienne Evans
Mortal dreams, thousand years
Through these eyes I have held you all
Shadow tears, when roses fade,
You will stay
- Seraphim Shock, "After Dark"
Your body is dark against the flickering, tarnished light in the passage; your shadow flaring out behind you - wings on a smudged wall. Can you see me? Or am I a mere shadow superimposed upon the purer darkness of the room behind me - just another faceless subject for you to observe before moving on? It has always been our choice; yours to be visible; a symbol of your struggle and mine: to fade behind the facade that my war demands of me.
I am lost within it.
The violin arch of your back embraces the rigid lines of the doorframe. Why should you fight when that which you oppose makes you all the more exquisite by comparison? The slight curve of thin lips hints at this comprehension - the smile meant for no one; a gift to the darkness. I shudder and hate you - fearing an independence that I, in my childishness, will never understand. And I love you - grateful for the knowledge that you don't need to be here.
Forever, has it been like this. You refuse to take; need nothing, give everything (including the affirmation of my dependence upon you). And they flocked to you - inhuman as you are - unconscious of the price that would be paid in a distant future that they could not see. And now that you have taken more than what they had to offer and left the empty shells of their souls on an otherwise barren shore, they will remember only the music. They will smile at your beauty, forgetting the coldness behind it. You laugh - a little girl pulling wings off of butterflies because you have never been told that it was wrong.
All I asked for was your heart.
There are no words, anymore. There is nothing left to say to one other. All that remains is for me to fight within myself; inspired by the soft, pitying contempt in your eyes and your form; the idea of you that you have long outgrown but that I - static, unchanging and inadaptable - will always cling to, even when you are gone.
I have always tried to give you meaning but it has been twisted; raped of its value and thrown aside with more violence than if you had spat in my face. You continue, merciless as a hurricane - beautiful in the destruction that you cause. You destroyed their lives. You destroy mine, now. I stand: a butterfly in the eye of the storm - never touching, never becoming a part of that which I worship.
It is plenty. It is everything.
Author's notes: Set after Edea's return to Cid, written to quieten the little voices in my head that berate me for not writing for an eternity. Please review; constructive criticisim is always welcomed (and used, in the continuing hope that I will be able to write something and be satisfied with it). Oh...and Final Fantasy VIII does not belong to me, I only borrowed it and swear I'll give it back...maybe.