Everyone's going so damn fluffy for Valentine's....so why can't I milk it
too? Thinking of you, you know who you are.
Flare Star
I don't know why I feel this way. It's not like I gave myself to her, if one person can ever truly own another. All I promised her was my body, my mind and this one day; she gave me the next. We kept up the pretence that neither party was addicted to this affair so long because we both saw fit to return the original favour, and donate another day to whatever bound us together. I don't know why I'm watching her sleep either, freezing my goddamn feet off on this balcony. He'll be back from the bathroom soon, so unless I want to be strung up by my hair and gutted in the street I'd better get going. My hair......I admit that I was somewhat disappointed when it stopped growing bright blond and turned as asphalt gray as the rain pelting the back of my neck. Should've seen that coming. My father drank almost as much as I do and his hair didn't put up with it long. Garland? My in locum parentis ringmaster then, for he trained me well, to fight but not to love. His only love was death. I can see myself reflected in the window, scattered shards of a drip-dried mural who crouches outside the Queen's chambers in the hope of at least loving her from a distance. Not that I couldn't gain entry should the desire awaken within me. I don't think he could hurt me with that rail sleeper he calls a sword, but I'm not too desperate to find out either. Oh, God, where did it all go so fucking wrong? Who is this pitifully tenacious mockery, master of his own empty castle who sneers down at me through the glass and dares to love my Dagger night after night? My reflection again.
It isn't supposed to end like this. I can't die without hearing her call my name one more time, written in scarlet splashes decorating the walls of this palace, residues of Memoria blowing my cowl into curious nightmare shapes, refusing to let me rest. I haven't lain my aching head down in years, because I know that no matter how I wish for it I won't smell the sweet fragrance of her hair or see the gentle slope of her cheek when I open my eyes.
Brothers in name alone, he says now, and that Dagger loves him. So suddenly, my Queen, you thrust me callously into disregard and watch me fade. Alas, I still love you. Didn't I hold you tight enough? Didn't you believe me when I called you my angel, myself the Angel of Death and heir to Garland's Hades. You would look positively enchanting upon the throne of Hell, of Terra, a dark-haired Persephone whose horn will grow back someday, I'm sure of it. I loved you then and I love you still. I'm sure that I'm screaming your name now.......but the wind tears my cries from the air and punishes me for these bitter tears. I can't hear the rain any longer, these racking sobs merciless and my resilient absinthian heart thumping far too hard for me to concern myself within the real world. If only you could see this, Dagger, would you still call me "monster"? A killer yes, but none so prolific as is written in the genes of your lover. It's his birthright, he can't fight it. Although I can't wait to watch him try.
* * * *
There it is, a venture into the unknown, FFIX. If anyone likes it it will continue.
Flare Star
I don't know why I feel this way. It's not like I gave myself to her, if one person can ever truly own another. All I promised her was my body, my mind and this one day; she gave me the next. We kept up the pretence that neither party was addicted to this affair so long because we both saw fit to return the original favour, and donate another day to whatever bound us together. I don't know why I'm watching her sleep either, freezing my goddamn feet off on this balcony. He'll be back from the bathroom soon, so unless I want to be strung up by my hair and gutted in the street I'd better get going. My hair......I admit that I was somewhat disappointed when it stopped growing bright blond and turned as asphalt gray as the rain pelting the back of my neck. Should've seen that coming. My father drank almost as much as I do and his hair didn't put up with it long. Garland? My in locum parentis ringmaster then, for he trained me well, to fight but not to love. His only love was death. I can see myself reflected in the window, scattered shards of a drip-dried mural who crouches outside the Queen's chambers in the hope of at least loving her from a distance. Not that I couldn't gain entry should the desire awaken within me. I don't think he could hurt me with that rail sleeper he calls a sword, but I'm not too desperate to find out either. Oh, God, where did it all go so fucking wrong? Who is this pitifully tenacious mockery, master of his own empty castle who sneers down at me through the glass and dares to love my Dagger night after night? My reflection again.
It isn't supposed to end like this. I can't die without hearing her call my name one more time, written in scarlet splashes decorating the walls of this palace, residues of Memoria blowing my cowl into curious nightmare shapes, refusing to let me rest. I haven't lain my aching head down in years, because I know that no matter how I wish for it I won't smell the sweet fragrance of her hair or see the gentle slope of her cheek when I open my eyes.
Brothers in name alone, he says now, and that Dagger loves him. So suddenly, my Queen, you thrust me callously into disregard and watch me fade. Alas, I still love you. Didn't I hold you tight enough? Didn't you believe me when I called you my angel, myself the Angel of Death and heir to Garland's Hades. You would look positively enchanting upon the throne of Hell, of Terra, a dark-haired Persephone whose horn will grow back someday, I'm sure of it. I loved you then and I love you still. I'm sure that I'm screaming your name now.......but the wind tears my cries from the air and punishes me for these bitter tears. I can't hear the rain any longer, these racking sobs merciless and my resilient absinthian heart thumping far too hard for me to concern myself within the real world. If only you could see this, Dagger, would you still call me "monster"? A killer yes, but none so prolific as is written in the genes of your lover. It's his birthright, he can't fight it. Although I can't wait to watch him try.
* * * *
There it is, a venture into the unknown, FFIX. If anyone likes it it will continue.
