A/N- I went to thinking about how Salazar, who built up this school in a time when there were probably lots of trouble to hinder the other founders and him, would probably not leave the school without feeling something, albiet denied, so I wrote this drabble of sorts...The whole rhyming title just shows how weird I am in not having unrasonably long fic names. Is it angsty or drama-y?...Choices, Choices...Read and Review Please!
A Hiss And A Tear:
What Was Lost Is Not Now Here
Crying, a foul and loathsome term.
He hadn't cried, nor had he ever found the merit in weeping.
Shedding salt-water from his eyes was less than an attractive idea for him. This magnified by the fact that he did not care much for emotions like sadness and sorrow, they were merely an obstruction; clouding his mind, judgment, and ambition; something a person such as himself could not afford.
So when he found himself casting a final glance at the first place he had ever called—felt at home, what streamed down his face as he watched his friends close its great gates wasn't at all tears—he wasn't—couldn't— be crying. It was implausible, improbable…impossible!
A dark figure turned on his heels, adding to the distance between himself and his creation, muttering about foul weather and pointless rain, his emerald eyes distorted by the steady flood of tears cascading down his pale pointed face onto his silver tinted dragon-hide boots. The river of tears hidden desperately by the dark robes used to stem their flow. His attempts would be in vain; the tears would always persist, even when they were not present on his face.
The ebony-haired man disappeared into the fading sunset, leaving his memories, and tears behind him, until his tortured-soul was released from this ever cruel world.
A newly-formed trio wept alongside him—behind him, in the home he had lost… A group of four friends now reduced to none.
Yes, he had always found tears abhorrent—and it was no wonder a wretched person such as himself would find numerous reasons to create so many, so often.