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@hiberus said: ‘ you are an ocean that will perhaps never stop crashing ’

War worn legs were trudging up along the stone staircases; feet caked with wet sands and the blood of the slain that scattered along the coasts of the raging sea. The waves were crashing, and crashing, and crashing, tides ebbing to and fro creeping onto the sanding and threatening to engulf the stone dam that guarded the elevated city from the thundering gulf. And the wind never stopped howling either, never stopped roaring like a mighty hurricane as it blasted through the waters and onto the Vice Commander’s body, carrying with it mists of water. His jacket and its sleeves flapping furiously into the hair like a flag that struggled to cling onto what grounded it. Disheveled, damp hair whisked further with grains of sand flying but they didn’t seem to bother his whitened eyes. He continued climbing to get back into the city, away from the reddened beach and closer to others he could call his enemies.

Unyielding and relentless; canines bared as he dragged his sword and rifle up and at the sound of a familiar voice. That voice so pleased, so thrilled and that voice belonging to the Roman Emperor is what made Hijikata craned his head up to ogle dully. His fair, marble face coated with blood that had been dripping from the chin and those red droplets flew, plopping onto the stone walls as he fixated on the Emperor who stood at the top of the stairs. His silhouette illuminated by the dark clouds and pale green sky and the mist that absorbed and reflected the hidden Sun’s light. “ If there is a voice that will call for me, that will roar out for me, I will fight it. ” His back straightened and his face more visible; red irises refused to bloom over the eerily glowing whites and his lips curled back, a smile of a war-hungry wolf with a tender heart that will never stop beating. “ You compare me to this ocean, but don’t you know? They will stop eventually, but I never will. Not while my guts continue to burn. ” Not while this fidelity continues to burn and to yearn for victory.

BETWEEN YOU AND THESE BONES // NOT ACCEPTING

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My only relief is to sleep. When I'm sleeping, I'm not sad, I'm not angry, I'm not lonely, I'm nothing.

— Jillian Medoff, Hunger Point

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“People do not see you, / They invent you and accuse you.”

— Hélène Cixous, from The Selected Plays of Hélène Cixous; “The Perjured City,”