Platonic Ironic: Bloody Secular Music
Enjoy.
X-_X-_XIt was Ironic,
Platonic Ironic.
The way they openly wore their symbols, their thoughts, their hearts, open on their sleeves.
Oldest and boldest: the music note. Sharp and swift it promises a higher cause, a feeling of elegance and just a frantic touch of ambitious insanity. The euphoria it invoked was nearly as legendary as the vicious snake that bore it.
The music note could elude capture, sneak through unbreakable barriers, it could climb heights in moments, make whole villages weep tears. It was strong, unrefined, and the music note was limitless.
Those particular deadly eyes could only be compared to ones another man bore, a man that bore bloody tear trails.
Wiser men could say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and they could possibly be right.
This one's symbol was the translucent circle. Secular and concise he had a lost of faith, and with every curve the spiral downwards never stopped. Halting was not a choice, part of the tradition that his line bore.
They had more in common than they honestly saw and more than they let on. The vicious one and the bloody one were two in one, rising plumes of smoke, a twilight sky. They both wore unfortunate masks, perseverance and ambition.
Another puzzle to connect them were the strings of a sorrowed heart, loosened tragedies of a voluptuous blond haired women.
In days of frozen summers passed they used to be a trinity in themselves. They had the cunning, the energy, and they had the strength.
The beautiful blond that wore her villages symbol had more sorrow that at first was supposed to be allotted.
They broke.
It was Ironic,
Platonic Ironic.
The circle that held them together routed them apart, the blood closing off to the heart.
From there on in:
It was Ironic,
Platonic Ironic.
They who used to be filled with warriors spirits were left empty with sorrow and hate.
Unguided were their paths, no more did they map the heavens, or seek leisure in one another's arms, they were halted, stilted, fused.
It was in this manner that a lifetime was led, that a lifetime was lost, until tradition came forth again.
A hero was bred.
The circle came back and emotions long lost were finally once again renewed.
X-_X-_X
This particular Platonic Ironic is about the sennin of course, and for all my Platonic Ironics it's the little descriptive details that help it to make sense. If anyone has any questions or wants any explanations I'd be most happy to oblidge.
AnimeSiren