:the view from the mountain
-or, a good amount of dying
I said I would scatter them, and blot out their memory from mankind.
-
:cyclonis
In five minutes, I will die.
I'm not trying to be dramatic. Really, I'm not. It's human nature to make a larger-than-life deal of The End.
Larger-than-life. Hah. That's funny.
-
I'll say this much for the Sky Knight: He's a terrible kisser. But the taste of him wouldn't go away, won't, can't. I'll carry it to my grave. He reeks of regret, it oozes from every pore on his skin.
I want him to kill me. It's important he do it. Poetic pride, I suppose.
You know what else is poetry? Me force feeding him the apple, and him love-hating every minute of it.
-
Four minutes. The guard outside my cage is getting fidgety.
Can you blame me for wanting to weep? Or smile?
Piper. Her face in front of my eyes and her breath on my skin. I only wanted her the way I'd want a new crystal. A new terra. An acquisition, a prize. But the thing was, she burned a little differently than the others.
Sparked.
Hm.
-
I've only secrets. I will never be a book one can open and peruse. I am a tome, locked tight and hidden.
And I'll have you know: I was written by men.
Good, powerful, strong men, but men nonetheless.
The Merb did not deserve to read me and live.
-
Three.
Blond boy and his fear. His anger. His bitterness.
He is the one blot of normalcy.
He… He… makes me…
Smile.
-
Did I mention I'm evil?
The boy won't come visit me. I'm waiting for him. I'm waiting for recapitulation.
The symphony in my head is being ripped apart and has ground to a screeching halt.
-
Two. The door opens and an arm reaches in. Pulls me out.
From the platform, I swear I can see the Promised Land, but someone's keeping me from crossing that fateful river.
God always was a sucker for irony.
They read the charges.
The machine watches me, six black crystals. I'm a martyr. I'm a goddamn martyr.
I can't do it.
-
I don't want to die.
-
Him. A flash of red. Not time yet, still thirty-seconds left, wait, wait—
Too late. His blade inside my body.
And a ripping sensation. His hand, in the small of my back, against my ribs, pain, release, and then:
-
White.
-
I have no regrets, save one, and that is--
-
Have I not kept this in reserve, and sealed it in my vaults?
