A s t a
'cause i thought i saw your soul
This child didn't know how to conceal.
Well, perhaps not a child compared to my current age . . . but that's besides the point. She's still a child to me, and infant first tasting the world with each fragile step.
I've walked the world for so long, my steps have grown weary, and now fall into the same path - time after time. A trek, a walk I've carved over the years. The same false smiles. The same flawed structures of society. The same distance I keep others. I live life on repeat.
How boring I've become.
For a moment I let myself remember, when I was more, when I meant something. When I saw this curse as a gift, and used it to try my hardest to make things better for others. When I wasn't afraid of death, so I'd charge into battle. Why fear death when you come back? But time continues to move forward, and where others move up and move on. From one life to the next, never remembering what came before . . .
I'm trapped in the ice, wishing for it to thaw, to let them join them in a future where my mind isn't connected to my lifetimes.
This child before me is lucky. But her attitude already lends her to not be lucky for long. Even as I turn, as I glance at this mare, ready to be polite, or as close to polite as I can get, I really hadn't been looking for an interruption, I'm instead treated with a mare who wears her emotions on her sleeve. Her features flicker into amusement, even as I school mine. I narrow my eyes. Anger flashes briefly when I see the . . . thing . . . she walks beside, and I want to scoff.
But her tone does amuse me, ever so much. Not an amusement of joy, but like a twisted knife in your heart, and you're amused because you saw them reach for it and was just waiting for them to prove that this was their intention. Her tone was my proof that I didn't need to get close to others, there was no need for friends, not when they all die eventually anyway.
There's no need for connections - I will outlive them. There's no need for love . . . I know the heart ache at the end of those three words. I'm perfectly happy on my - oh, the girl is talking. I return my attention, and I snort as her dry tone, Of course he doesn't, that disease attacks central nervous systems. I'm not entirely certain what . . . . he? is . . . but I highly doubt he has a working system of that regard. My retort was nonchalant - as dismissive as her own dry tone had been.
But really, the child shouldn't be so eager to defend her weird friend. Why worry about what others think? Perhaps she hasn't grown enough to realize that yet? My assessment was hardly a condemption of that creature. If I thought it should be dead, well, where would that leave me? Who should have been dead of mind long ago, risen as a new individual with no recollection of the past. One soul with no memories of what came before. Didn't mean the oddity didn't disturb me, but I had been raised a lady of high society for the past couple hundred life times.
I turn away again, back to the portals, and the girl speaks. I momentarily wonder if referring to her as girl and child, when she is older than I appear to be is disrespectful. I don't care enough to change the silent titles, not like I say them out loud, after all. She does give me information, however. Of a portal taking her elsewhere. I remained silent, before glancing back at her with emotionless eyes, I see. You are still alive, so it did not harm you. I nod once, before glancing back towards the portals, I don't quite see the allure to these portals, but I can certainly say I'm not afraid of it ending my life, question remains of which one is likely safest to transverse through." I was speaking to myself, although out loud, once more pacing before stopping in front of the one that reminded me of a forest. Have you travelled through any of these yet? I ask her, before shrugging, Oh, don't bother answering, gathering information only helps for so much. I might as well see for it myself.
And so I step through the portal, not caring if she and her botanical nightmare follow.
FROM THE MOUTH
INSIDE THE MIND
@Faction
Notes:: . . .
Well, perhaps not a child compared to my current age . . . but that's besides the point. She's still a child to me, and infant first tasting the world with each fragile step.
I've walked the world for so long, my steps have grown weary, and now fall into the same path - time after time. A trek, a walk I've carved over the years. The same false smiles. The same flawed structures of society. The same distance I keep others. I live life on repeat.
How boring I've become.
For a moment I let myself remember, when I was more, when I meant something. When I saw this curse as a gift, and used it to try my hardest to make things better for others. When I wasn't afraid of death, so I'd charge into battle. Why fear death when you come back? But time continues to move forward, and where others move up and move on. From one life to the next, never remembering what came before . . .
I'm trapped in the ice, wishing for it to thaw, to let them join them in a future where my mind isn't connected to my lifetimes.
This child before me is lucky. But her attitude already lends her to not be lucky for long. Even as I turn, as I glance at this mare, ready to be polite, or as close to polite as I can get, I really hadn't been looking for an interruption, I'm instead treated with a mare who wears her emotions on her sleeve. Her features flicker into amusement, even as I school mine. I narrow my eyes. Anger flashes briefly when I see the . . . thing . . . she walks beside, and I want to scoff.
But her tone does amuse me, ever so much. Not an amusement of joy, but like a twisted knife in your heart, and you're amused because you saw them reach for it and was just waiting for them to prove that this was their intention. Her tone was my proof that I didn't need to get close to others, there was no need for friends, not when they all die eventually anyway.
There's no need for connections - I will outlive them. There's no need for love . . . I know the heart ache at the end of those three words. I'm perfectly happy on my - oh, the girl is talking. I return my attention, and I snort as her dry tone, Of course he doesn't, that disease attacks central nervous systems. I'm not entirely certain what . . . . he? is . . . but I highly doubt he has a working system of that regard. My retort was nonchalant - as dismissive as her own dry tone had been.
But really, the child shouldn't be so eager to defend her weird friend. Why worry about what others think? Perhaps she hasn't grown enough to realize that yet? My assessment was hardly a condemption of that creature. If I thought it should be dead, well, where would that leave me? Who should have been dead of mind long ago, risen as a new individual with no recollection of the past. One soul with no memories of what came before. Didn't mean the oddity didn't disturb me, but I had been raised a lady of high society for the past couple hundred life times.
I turn away again, back to the portals, and the girl speaks. I momentarily wonder if referring to her as girl and child, when she is older than I appear to be is disrespectful. I don't care enough to change the silent titles, not like I say them out loud, after all. She does give me information, however. Of a portal taking her elsewhere. I remained silent, before glancing back at her with emotionless eyes, I see. You are still alive, so it did not harm you. I nod once, before glancing back towards the portals, I don't quite see the allure to these portals, but I can certainly say I'm not afraid of it ending my life, question remains of which one is likely safest to transverse through." I was speaking to myself, although out loud, once more pacing before stopping in front of the one that reminded me of a forest. Have you travelled through any of these yet? I ask her, before shrugging, Oh, don't bother answering, gathering information only helps for so much. I might as well see for it myself.
And so I step through the portal, not caring if she and her botanical nightmare follow.
FROM THE MOUTH
INSIDE THE MIND
@Faction
Notes:: . . .
shades of jade and emerald
