paladin

by rosere

Water may only nourish for a time; it is the frequency and commitment that will allow the growth to bloom. A man can and will blunder against a depression so great; misery only desires a pauper to rebel against him. He loves the negativity, every taste that slithers from his tongue, like serpents.

Water may only nourish for a time; it is the frequency and commitment that will allow the growth to bloom.

It would be clever of him to avoid conversation with her on that day, for she appeared all the more fretful. God and time will only offer an indication when she will be safe from the elements that mean to deter her. He was worrisome, in a sense that the means he will take to protect her might fail. A man can and will blunder against a depression so great; misery only desires a pauper to rebel against him. He loves the negativity, every taste that slithers from his tongue, like serpents.

Makoto only needed to see her well. He slaved at work for the sole purpose of providing to her the money they lacked. She had seen greater days, and her leave from her position in what was, incredibly, the most hopeful company in the world made her pained even more so.

He had always found it exceedingly romantic, albeit morbid, that he and Kyouko were high school sweethearts, if one would consider the game of mutual killing to be high school. They had fallen in love during this time, slaving alongside each other to uncover and solve the mysteries of the murders that occurred in the school. He did, however, find it cruel that he had to volunteer one of his comrades under suspicion and place them on the road for execution. For Kyouko, it was different. She did not trust any of her peers, no matter what the case may have been. She was too reserved, much too full of wit, to find herself befriending those who intended to slit her throat against an unpracticed knowledge.

She remained seated in her reclining chair, placed closely to the fireplace so as to let the warmth creep on her skin as she pleased. Kyouko sipped from her green tea Makoto had prepared especially for her (he had always paid careful attention to detail when it applied to tea) and she had a look of untainted dread smeared across her face as though it were ink. Makoto had been observing her in peaceful diligence as she began to tear, watching her writhe in pain from the anguish so deep. He rushed himself to her side, and held her hand tenderly; it was all he could do in these dire situations. He recalled trying other methods of soothing, but they had always perished at his feet. In spite of himself, Makoto found that holding her hand and remaining in silence proved to combat more effectively than others.

Kyouko wiped a porcelain face and placed her agony aside as she quietly grasped his gently vibrating palms.

"Why do you shake, Makoto," she inquired, leaning her head forward so two foreheads could touch.

Her tears fell atop of his hands, and he, in turn, began to sob as well. "It physically aches me to see you suffer; my only want is to see you smile again."

He believed her to have a smile that blessed anyone who perceived it, and regardless of the feelings and behavior of which they possessed, they would always return the same. Infinite lavender hair that framed her face, and eyes that glew with an intensity far too great, it only made her beam even more captivating.

"If only I could see that incredible smile again. If only for a moment."

His words struck her, leaving her begging for his hands to grip hers even more taut as she began to cry in lament once more. He held her even closer than previously, this time kissing the crown of her head as his optics began to overwhelm with tears.

"You are so beautiful," he choked out through the episode. "You are too beautiful...too beautiful...too-"

Before the words could slide from his tongue, before the final syllables could leak from his lips, he felt softness press against them. A kiss so sweet he could not remember from where his tears originated from, and he doubted she could remember, as well. Yet, the droplets continued raining from both of their eyes, coating the recliner seat in moisture.

Her hand cupped his cheek, and he gripped her hand firmly, with no purpose to ease his restraint.

Makoto teared himself from her first, yet still having his lips so close to her own he could breathe words into her mouth. "Will you marry me."

Kyouko forced her eyes to widen as she loosened her embrace on his hand. "Are you...what?"

"Will you marry me."

The question surprised even him in that moment; he did not mean to actually and audibly blurt the offer.

His features immediately were coated in a musk of scarlet as a small smile crept upon Kyouko's mouth. She kissed him once more, and, with a tilt of her head and a beam so brilliant he had to suppress tears once more, she responded with utmost confidence.

"Of course I'll marry you."

"You...You smiled."

A blush. "Ah...so I did."

The ceremony was simple and small, which appealed to the both of them; it was the two of them and only the two of them, exchanging their vows and kissing passionately in front of stained glass windows. The sun seeped in through the cracks of the shattered glass, illuminating Kyouko's shimmering silk gown as though it was its goddess. She looked amazing, by the simplest of terms: her makeup was beautifully painted on her face, she styled her hair the same, a white bow replacing her usual black one.

Makoto's auburn locks remained in its usual tousled fashion, but he conceited to the idea that he looked especially well in his tuxedo. Kyouko was inclined to agree, for she had a weakness to formality.

"I had one more thing prepared for you," Makoto spoke suddenly, once he placed the ring through her fragile finger.

Kyouko appeared puzzled, and felt a little guilt take root in her heart. She had only prepared the vow, and did not consider creating anything else.

"I...I didn't know we had to-"

He chuckled. "No, no. This was on my own accord."

Makoto removed an envelope from within his jacket, and presented it in her hand.

"This is for you. I wrote it yesterday, and I want you to look at it prior to when you feel the agony return. Can you make me that promise?"

"I promise you this, like I promise you many others."

Makoto had left for work on a humid, wet day. Kyouko was dutifully positioned in her chair, having it arched back and angled toward the fire, whose embers were crackling wildly. It denoted a sense of comfort for her, but as she tended to the flames, she noticed faces within the light. Faces of the children who were killed in Hope's Peak, in addition to the mastermind who initiated the entire game. She screamed in horror, and she wrenched her body away from the fire and began whimpering into her knees. Her grim reminders of her past hindered her so, and she could not rid herself of the cruel torment she felt. She suddenly twisted her head toward the envelope that was seated on the table beside her.

"I want you to look at it prior to when you feel the agony return. Can you make me that promise?"

Her arm shakily outstretched directly to the envelope. With painstaking care, she opened the package and revealed a letter addressed to her.

My Kyouko,

I'm writing this on the day before an event so suddenly brought on, yet the timing was so perfect, I had to write this letter to you in addition to my vow.

My heart, to begin with, belongs to only you. I cannot, nor will I ever, picture myself with any other woman besides you. I am going to make this short, but I want it to entice the happiness that I know exists somewhere. I still remember the day you smiled once I offered my proposal; that image has been forever and happily burned into my mind.

Your anguish pains me, so much so that I cry when you cry. Do you ever notice the tears that flow from my eyes when they flow from your own? It is because I can physically feel the pain that rushes to your head like blood, and I want to ease it in any possible way I can. I don't want to pretend I can rid the feelings completely; we all know how unrealistic that truly is. I just want to see you smile, once in a blue moon. I will do anything in my power to alleviate your struggles and make that beam return, if you'd let me.

I told you to read this when you are feeling agony in every form. I specifically wrote this for the purpose of temporarily healing you while I am gone, and I hope my words will make you hurt at least a little less.

I love you, Kyouko. I love you more than words can say. I love your mouth, and the ideas that spurt from it. I love everything and all that you are. Will you let me be your crutch when your legs are weak? Will you let me be your shield when your sword breaks? Will you let me love you the way I do? Even if you won't, I still will ensure your life and safety is untouched by any outside force meaning to harm. I promise that, let my lips against yours prove it to you all the more so.

From your love,

Makoto

When Makoto returned home, Kyouko was waiting by the doorway, clutching the letter in her hands, and adorned in her wedding gown and veil. The fatigued expression that was typically present upon her face had been obliterated, a genuine smile in its stead.

"Kyouko..." He whispered, unable to breathe as his gaze was locked on the beautiful woman before him. His wife. "What is this about?"

"I will let you be my crutch. I will let you be my shield. I will let you love me the way you do, as long as you let me love you, too."

She practically sprinted into his arms, kissing him madly and wrapping her thin arms about his shoulders. The softness of her lips made his mouth addicted to her, craving more of her warmth and desire for him.

She pulled away, breathlessly uttering to him: "Let my lips prove that to you, all the more so."

Their hearts were eternally intertwined, wrapped about each other, neither intending to separate for even an instant. Somehow brought on by a divine force, their love overcame her deepest impediments, regardless of how abundant they may have seemed. He was not oblivious to her pain. His mind was completely intact and locked firmly upon the matter. Even when he was not available, the letter made her horrors seem less dreadful. However, when he was around, the ghouls dispersed faster, and more effectively. He was powerful, he was a knight placed on the line for a single purpose: to keep her and their love durable.

His lips proved that to her, all the more so.

Water may only nourish for a time; it is the frequency and commitment that will allow the growth to bloom.

It would be clever of him to avoid conversation with her on that day, for she appeared all the more fretful. God and time will only offer an indication when she will be safe from the elements that mean to deter her. He was worrisome, in a sense that the means he will take to protect her might fail. A man can and will blunder against a depression so great; misery only desires a pauper to rebel against him. He loves the negativity, every taste that slithers from his tongue, like serpents.

Makoto only needed to see her well. He slaved at work for the sole purpose of providing to her the money they lacked. She had seen greater days, and her leave from her position in what was, incredibly, the most hopeful company in the world made her pained even more so.

He had always found it exceedingly romantic, albeit morbid, that he and Kyouko were high school sweethearts, if one would consider the game of mutual killing to be high school. They had fallen in love during this time, slaving alongside each other to uncover and solve the mysteries of the murders that occurred in the school. He did, however, find it cruel that he had to volunteer one of his comrades under suspicion and place them on the road for execution. For Kyouko, it was different. She did not trust any of her peers, no matter what the case may have been. She was too reserved, much too full of wit, to find herself befriending those who intended to slit her throat against an unpracticed knowledge.

She remained seated in her reclining chair, placed closely to the fireplace so as to let the warmth creep on her skin as she pleased. Kyouko sipped from her green tea Makoto had prepared especially for her (he had always paid careful attention to detail when it applied to tea) and she had a look of untainted dread smeared across her face as though it were ink. Makoto had been observing her in peaceful diligence as she began to tear, watching her writhe in pain from the anguish so deep. He rushed himself to her side, and held her hand tenderly; it was all he could do in these dire situations. He recalled trying other methods of soothing, but they had always perished at his feet. In spite of himself, Makoto found that holding her hand and remaining in silence proved to combat more effectively than others.

Kyouko wiped a porcelain face and placed her agony aside as she quietly grasped his gently vibrating palms.

"Why do you shake, Makoto," she inquired, leaning her head forward so two foreheads could touch.

Her tears fell atop of his hands, and he, in turn, began to sob as well. "It physically aches me to see you suffer; my only want is to see you smile again."

He believed her to have a smile that blessed anyone who perceived it, and regardless of the feelings and behavior of which they possessed, they would always return the same. Infinite lavender hair that framed her face, and eyes that glew with an intensity far too great, it only made her beam even more captivating.

"If only I could see that incredible smile again. If only for a moment."

His words struck her, leaving her begging for his hands to grip hers even more taut as she began to cry in lament once more. He held her even closer than previously, this time kissing the crown of her head as his optics began to overwhelm with tears.

"You are so beautiful," he choked out through the episode. "You are too beautiful...too beautiful...too-"

Before the words could slide from his tongue, before the final syllables could leak from his lips, he felt softness press against them. A kiss so sweet he could not remember from where his tears originated from, and he doubted she could remember, as well. Yet, the droplets continued raining from both of their eyes, coating the recliner seat in moisture.

Her hand cupped his cheek, and he gripped her hand firmly, with no purpose to ease his restraint.

Makoto teared himself from her first, yet still having his lips so close to her own he could breathe words into her mouth. "Will you marry me."

Kyouko forced her eyes to widen as she loosened her embrace on his hand. "Are you...what?"

"Will you marry me."

The question surprised even him in that moment; he did not mean to actually and audibly blurt the offer.

His features immediately were coated in a musk of scarlet as a small smile crept upon Kyouko's mouth. She kissed him once more, and, with a tilt of her head and a beam so brilliant he had to suppress tears once more, she responded with utmost confidence.

"Of course I'll marry you."

"You...You smiled."

A blush. "Ah...so I did."

The ceremony was simple and small, which appealed to the both of them; it was the two of them and only the two of them, exchanging their vows and kissing passionately in front of stained glass windows. The sun seeped in through the cracks of the shattered glass, illuminating Kyouko's shimmering silk gown as though it was its goddess. She looked amazing, by the simplest of terms: her makeup was beautifully painted on her face, she styled her hair the same, a white bow replacing her usual black one.

Makoto's auburn locks remained in its usual tousled fashion, but he conceited to the idea that he looked especially well in his tuxedo. Kyouko was inclined to agree, for she had a weakness to formality.

"I had one more thing prepared for you," Makoto spoke suddenly, once he placed the ring through her fragile finger.

Kyouko appeared puzzled, and felt a little guilt take root in her heart. She had only prepared the vow, and did not consider creating anything else.

"I...I didn't know we had to-"

He chuckled. "No, no. This was on my own accord."

Makoto removed an envelope from within his jacket, and presented it in her hand.

"This is for you. I wrote it yesterday, and I want you to look at it prior to when you feel the agony return. Can you make me that promise?"

"I promise you this, like I promise you many others."

Makoto had left for work on a humid, wet day. Kyouko was dutifully positioned in her chair, having it arched back and angled toward the fire, whose embers were crackling wildly. It denoted a sense of comfort for her, but as she tended to the flames, she noticed faces within the light. Faces of the children who were killed in Hope's Peak, in addition to the mastermind who initiated the entire game. She screamed in horror, and she wrenched her body away from the fire and began whimpering into her knees. Her grim reminders of her past hindered her so, and she could not rid herself of the cruel torment she felt. She suddenly twisted her head toward the envelope that was seated on the table beside her.

"I want you to look at it prior to when you feel the agony return. Can you make me that promise?"

Her arm shakily outstretched directly to the envelope. With painstaking care, she opened the package and revealed a letter addressed to her.

My Kyouko,

I'm writing this on the day before an event so suddenly brought on, yet the timing was so perfect, I had to write this letter to you in addition to my vow.

My heart, to begin with, belongs to only you. I cannot, nor will I ever, picture myself with any other woman besides you. I am going to make this short, but I want it to entice the happiness that I know exists somewhere. I still remember the day you smiled once I offered my proposal; that image has been forever and happily burned into my mind.

Your anguish pains me, so much so that I cry when you cry. Do you ever notice the tears that flow from my eyes when they flow from your own? It is because I can physically feel the pain that rushes to your head like blood, and I want to ease it in any possible way I can. I don't want to pretend I can rid the feelings completely; we all know how unrealistic that truly is. I just want to see you smile, once in a blue moon. I will do anything in my power to alleviate your struggles and make that beam return, if you'd let me.

I told you to read this when you are feeling agony in every form. I specifically wrote this for the purpose of temporarily healing you while I am gone, and I hope my words will make you hurt at least a little less.

I love you, Kyouko. I love you more than words can say. I love your mouth, and the ideas that spurt from it. I love everything and all that you are. Will you let me be your crutch when your legs are weak? Will you let me be your shield when your sword breaks? Will you let me love you the way I do? Even if you won't, I still will ensure your life and safety is untouched by any outside force meaning to harm. I promise that, let my lips against yours prove it to you all the more so.

From your love,

Makoto

When Makoto returned home, Kyouko was waiting by the doorway, clutching the letter in her hands, and adorned in her wedding gown and veil. The fatigued expression that was typically present upon her face had been obliterated, a genuine smile in its stead.

"Kyouko..." He whispered, unable to breathe as his gaze was locked on the beautiful woman before him. His wife. "What is this about?"

"I will let you be my crutch. I will let you be my shield. I will let you love me the way you do, as long as you let me love you, too."

She practically sprinted into his arms, kissing him madly and wrapping her thin arms about his shoulders. The softness of her lips made his mouth addicted to her, craving more of her warmth and desire for him.

She pulled away, breathlessly uttering to him: "Let my lips prove that to you, all the more so."

Their hearts were eternally intertwined, wrapped about each other, neither intending to separate for even an instant. Somehow brought on by a divine force, their love overcame her deepest impediments, regardless of how abundant they may have seemed. He was not oblivious to her pain. His mind was completely intact and locked firmly upon the matter. Even when he was not available, the letter made her horrors seem less dreadful. However, when he was around, the ghouls dispersed faster, and more effectively. He was powerful, he was a knight placed on the line for a single purpose: to keep her and their love durable.

His lips proved that to her, all the more so.