onlyhatredleft - Tumblr blog

[onlyhatredleft]

Happiness, not darkness. Blinking rapidly, he lightly ran his calloused thumbs over her hands. "It is not so easy as saying it," Itzal murmured, "but I'll try." Yet he had so much sadness seeped into the fine lines of his skin, becoming a part of him, a layer of grime that he tolerated and endured. Only when he allowed others to touch him again did he remember the filth.

Itzal corrected a stray hair and cleared his throat, which continued to thicken with emotion whenever he rested his eyes on her for too long. "Have you everything you need?" he asked instead of replying. One, today was hers. Two, he did not know the answer.

"Wow... you..." He cupped his hand over his mouth as if prepared to catch tears. "You look incredible."

Wendy beamed, tears filling her own eyes. “D-do you really think so, Zal?” Holding the lacey skirt of her gown out and spinning around, she fiddled with her fingertips. “You think Alex will like it?” {{Wenzal will be the death of me, it’s official}}

[onlyhatredleft]

"You...know it. You seek it. Why? Atonement?"

A human with death in her eyes. Did she also pass like this, resigned? The thought, however fleeting, was a sharp pain; he responded by looking at the ground. Green sludge crept from the edge of the pond, stretching past his ankles, reaching for hers.

Do What You Will | Itzal and Xiaowei

[onlyhatredleft]

"A battlefield." The water deity flicked the blood from his fingers and started towards the old faun, only to pause and stare at him as if he did not understand. "A battlefield. Is that the name you give to the slaughter of trees, the carnage of polluted waters, the death, the exile of your kind, your centaurs, your dwarves, your talking animals--"

He looked again at the body. "Terrible. Viciousness." For a moment he almost seemed repentant, but he broke with a horrible laugh. "If only I had been so sooner. When I could have saved them all." Black eyes riveted to the faun. "Do you mourn the human?"

Battlefields Desecrated

[onlyhatredleft]

"Humans are destruction," the river god declared. "It is your nature."

Dark eyes sharpened to razors. "Telmarine?" he asked slowly, choking out the word.

Shar looked at the stranger with a curious gaze. She had been caught off guard and so she casually apologized, "Excuse me, I didn't see you there."

His words came slowly. “Excuse you? For overlooking this? Destruction of nature on human’s whim. This should be excused?”

[onlyhatredleft]

He shook his jerkily. "Not I... I didn't do anything. I'm not a..." She  nested against his chest, so he rested his cheek against the crown of her head and closed his eyes, calming himself with the motion.

"I wasn't trying..." he answered, slightly bewildered. He smiled again, because she was so beautiful. I'm not a hero.

"Wow... you..." He cupped his hand over his mouth as if prepared to catch tears. "You look incredible."

Wendy beamed, tears filling her own eyes. “D-do you really think so, Zal?” Holding the lacey skirt of her gown out and spinning around, she fiddled with her fingertips. “You think Alex will like it?” {{Wenzal will be the death of me, it’s official}}

[onlyhatredleft]

Open starter

He glanced down at the body before lifting his eyes.

"Do you stare because you do not know death?"

[onlyhatredleft]

A River God's Wrath:

The sun was harsh and merciless in his eyes as he surfaced from the milky green film. He had neither eaten nor slept; his bones felt brittle and his lashes heavy. Even air felt foreign to his nose and throat, punishing him for each breath. Cicadas, mosquito droning, a distant bird...all so noisy. Every sound muffled in his waterlogged ears, yet so grating all the same. The river god jerkily lifted an arm and a rush of water followed the direction of his fingertips to splash against a stunted tree. The cicadas hummed lazily away from the onslaught and the fetid pond water collapsed on the forest floor. Ready to spring up again at the slightest threat of footfalls

Itzal will be in an unstable state from now until August 20. During this time, he will be violent, moody, and murderous. He will threaten or attack your character and he will not be easily calmed. I will discuss the extent of violence and injury with the mun. Current threads will not be affected. Posts will be tagged violence tw, blood tw, and the like, when appropriate.

[onlyhatredleft]

At her radiant expression of joy, Itzal's own joy and pride squeezed his chest until his eyes dampened. He lowered his hand and gave a soft smile. "Of course."

Clearing his throat, he added, "Can you dance in it?"

"Wow... you..." He cupped his hand over his mouth as if prepared to catch tears. "You look incredible."

Wendy beamed, tears filling her own eyes. “D-do you really think so, Zal?” Holding the lacey skirt of her gown out and spinning around, she fiddled with her fingertips. “You think Alex will like it?” {{Wenzal will be the death of me, it’s official}}

[onlyhatredleft]

He couldn't hear her anymore, he could not. The river god attempted words too early and broke into a round of dry, gasping sobs. There was nowhere to hide from her words that were small, relentless pellets of hail. They bruised him, she bruised him even if she did not mean it, even if she wept.

Hope had left him; to him it was dead. If hope is at the core of souls, his had been emptied and wrung out years ago and maybe that explained the hollow feeling. If it was hope he was meant to have, perhaps his suffering had indeed been greater once hope was lost. But it was lost now and he knew no way of getting it back and just thinking of hope was pain to him.

"Go," he pushed through strangled and straining lungs. "Go. He doesn't love... He doesn't love with kindness. Go, or I'll..." The surface of the pond began to boil, a warning.

His body slumped, as if whatever strength that had been keeping him upright suddenly failed. Itzal crouched with his hands dragging on the ground, his bony knees digging into his chest, head bowed. The water quieted. If she would not return, if he wished... That was right. It was right that she would not return.

"There is no peace for me," he intoned with an expression of death. How long had he worn death on his face? "No hope. But go."

Anceint Pains || Naerwen and Itzal

"Sir," The girl began, fiddling with her dress nervously. "Hope had been the only thing that has kept me going. It tells me that if I am good and am deemed worthy, I will be reunited with my parents and my siblings in due time. It tells me everything will be alright. It was the moments when I felt no hope that I was the most bitter. If I lost hold of my hope, I would never survive."She explained in the gentlest tone her soft spoken voice could muster.

"Hope is not an evil. It is hard, impossible at times, to cling to. But what do we truly have left if we abandon the light in the dark? A sign of great strength is to keeping hoping when times are the bleakest. Hope is perhaps the most basic instinct for living things. It is at the very core of our souls. It feeds all of our other instincts, for what are love, grief, loneliness, hurt, and anger but different extensions of hope?"

The girl's tears only grew worse upon seeing his reaction. She had not meant to do this. She never wanted to hurt him more. Wen believed her words would learn the River God's grief, never worsen it. The Half Dryad had, in her naivete, crossed a line she had no place to cross. As Itzal covered his mouth trying to surpress his sobs, her heart shattered. This poor soul... How she yearned to use her gift to ease his pain!

'Aslan, please hear my prayer.' Wen begged with all her being. 'This man, your dear one, has suffered greatly for so long. He is lost and he needs your guidance. Help him find the hope and strength to press on. Help me to ease his pain.'

"No." She replied shaking her head softly. "No. Alan never leaves us. He loves each and every one of His children more than we can ever understand."

Swallowing thickly, Wen wiped her eyes and hung her head in shame. "I am so very sorry if I have caused you any pain. You may not believe me, but that is the last thing I ever wanted. I wished only to help, to lessen the burden on your shoulders. If you wish, I shall leave you in peace and not return."

[onlyhatredleft]

Enduring Souls

{{Left on the kitchen table, with his favorite breakfast, even though she was supposed to have left last night for her honeymoon.}} In myth and religion the world over, the journey of the soul is one of the most arduous and magical of all. Like Psyche before she gained her status of a Goddess, the soul must endure many labors. There are times it wants to quit. Times it wants to turn back to the familiar and easy. But as the caterpillar metamorphosizes into a butterfly safe and sound inside it’s chrysalis, so does the soul. Hurt, pain, sadness and anger plague and torture; but peace, serenity, and strength will always come. And though our wings may be clipped, or bodies die and wither away, the soul endures. It is the soul that remains with those left behind. The soul is truly eternal and keeps us alive after death. Look to Psyche, to the butterfly, in times of doubt and weakness. Look and remember that the labor cannot last forever. As long as there is truth, strength, and love to be found, it will be alright. The soul will endure all, even death. Wendy 

He leaned against the kitchen doorway, already squinting at a sheaf of legal documents in the murky morning light. A lot of work had been shoved aside during the weeks preceding Wen's wedding and while everyone at the office was understanding, he hated to let personal matters affect his business affairs in the slightest.

His eyes flicked up. Did he forget to clear the table before he went out yesterday? Walking up to it, he quickly detected the folded piece of paper that had been slipped under his customary bowl of rice porridge. Placed beside it was a plate of steamed vegetables and pan-fried tofu, which was Wen's silent but firm reminder that he needed to eat a balanced breakfast. Itzal's eyes were misty even before he pulled up the note with shaky fingers.

His soul wasn't so strong. It was battered, full of gaping holes and cracks and parts clumsily mended. But wasn't there a kind of peace in him now? Was it not a painful, bittersweet kind of serenity that allowed him to set the note down with a soft smile and sit down to eat the meal prepared by his best friend's hands? Perhaps even as he was crying, he was healing.

[onlyhatredleft]

First meeting Wendy {{Cause I can't get enough of these two}}

"Sir?" The brunette flashed a dimpled smile when she noticed the deer-in-headlights expression on the customer's face. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Yes..." His dark eyes, so tired even in the soft ambient lighting, wandered vacantly between her face and the menu. "Green oolong."

"Of course. Will the hot oolong tea and Singapore-style curried noodles be all for you today?"

He pulled out his wallet in reply and handed her a credit card.

"Lovely children," she noted. "How old are they?"

He flinched at the question and snapped the wallet shut, hiding the faces of a beaming young girl and boy.

Her expression fell immediately. "I'm sorry." He glanced up at her fleetingly, as if reaching for one last beacon. The light in him was in grave danger of guttering out and it broke her heart.

The customer was at a booth still picking apart his meal when her shift ended. She held her plate tighter and ventured over to him. "Mind if I...?"

He turned away from her while simultaneously clearing away a few papers that looked like legal documents. She sat on the stool next to him and her eyes fell on a cane leaning nearby that she had not noticed before. Fighting past her doubts with another smile, she extended a hand. "I'm Wendy."

He hesitated, but finally lifted his own hand and fitted it to hers. "Itzal."

[onlyhatredleft]

Shar looked at the stranger with a curious gaze. She had been caught off guard and so she casually apologized, "Excuse me, I didn't see you there."

His words came slowly. "Excuse you? For overlooking this? Destruction of nature on human's whim. This should be excused?"

[onlyhatredleft]

drabble: water lillies

     Dust to dust...

When water lilies die, they curl into themselves and sink beneath the surface of the water, dragged by death back down to the mud that gave birth to them. However pure, however beautiful, it does not matter. Down to the grave they descend and the river god wished he could follow them down to the mud, and with the mud he would cover himself until he finally found rest, until he could finally sleep.

     Forasmuch as it pleases Almighty God...

Five days, perhaps, a lily will bloom. Five sunrises, five sunsets, and in a moment everything he loved was wrenched from him and dashed on the ground no matter how he held onto them with the five fingers on each of his hands. Powerless, like petals on stormy waves. And now he wanted nothing, except rest.

     Ashes to ashes, mud to mud.

[onlyhatredleft]

Panic! At the Disco, “When the Day Met the Night”

[onlyhatredleft]

-flips palms upward and places them between their bodies- These hands? Can you count the deaths these hands have caused? What about their hands? Can you count the trees they felled, the rivers they poisoned, the Talking Animals they hunted down and slaughtered? Forgiveness? We forgive and sin repeats itself. Sin has lasted as long as your enduring truths.

-his hands drop, he moves away from her- I can't be selfl--I can't be selfless because I am all that is left of me. They took the rest and killed it. Only I...only... -the pond's surface ripples under his unheard command, then roars to shred the waterlily with violence. The water calms and the petals float- How can that flower love anything now? It is torn, it is dead, it... I am that flower. Broken.

-saunters by and looks at the pond. She frowns a little, and looks into the basket that she was carrying on her arm. Without seeing the naiad, she extracts a waterlily and pushes it gently on the surface-

-His fingers were readied, the rage preparing to curl around the slender neck but the flower, the delicate bundle of memories lodged at the base of his skull, stops him-

Nere? …You are not her. Leave.

[onlyhatredleft]

"You could never be a strain," he murmured to the ground as he waited for the elevator. "Just seeing you every day is blessing enough for him, I know." Hearing her always take so much of the blame and leave so much of the credit bothered him every time. If she couldn't understand how much of a helpmate she was to Alex then she could never understand the full impact of each blinding smile she gave and each gentle word she spoke.

Itzal smiled into the phone. "Bandit wouldn't," he echoed. Growing somber, however, he used his free hand to smooth what wrinkles he could from his shirt. Was it too obvious that he had slept in his clothes? There were many situations where having Bandit around would not be enough. But he kept the fears locked away in his chest, though they fought to spill out into speech that would only be a burden on Wen. If anyone was a burden it was he...

When the door opened and framed her slender body it was as if sunlight spilled into the hallway and pressed comfort into his tired skin. If she didn't know then he didn't know what he could do to make her see. Itzal laid one hand against her shoulder blade to return the embrace and followed her inside. "I'm alright," he answered instead of confessing that he had pulled another long shift at work. "Thank you. Hello Bandit." The tea warmed his palms.

He set the mug down for a moment in order to remove his jacket, which he hung up neatly. Taking up the hot tea again and letting the aromatic steam sooth his agitated nerves, Itzal turned to his dear friend. "Tell me what happened, Wendy."

1 Missed Call || Wendy and Itzal

Hearing how stressed he sounded, Wendy instantly decided she’d have peppermint and make him chamomile. It would calm him down and help him relax. As they continued speaking, she filled the kettle from the pitcher of filtered water in the fridge and set about getting everything ready for the tea.

“Yes, he’s still working. He’ll be sorry he missed you, but ever since he got that promotion he wanted, they expect so much more of him. You understand. I’m glad he’s happy, I am. I just worry he’s going to make himself sick by not taking proper time to rest. He’s so worried about having the money for the house on time, and I think it’s my fault. I don’t make nearly as much at Zen Palette as he does at him job. If I made more, maybe Alex wouldn’t have to worry so much. I feel like I put more of a strain on him rather than help.” Wendy explained. She had always worried for Alex, and tried to make things easier for him. But ever since they married, she felt like she did a worse job than ever.

Itzal fell silent for a moment, and Wendy did as well. The kettle had begun to whistle and she busied herself filling two mugs with the hot water and tea bags. While they steeped, the young woman took a quick look around the loft to make sure it was clean enough for visitors. Nor that she needed to worry, being a tidy little thing to begin with. She wasn’t perturbed by his silence. Both of them were long since used to one or the other ceasing to speak for bit. Why for the longest time in their friendship, Wendy barely spoke at all! She knew as well as he did that the silence meant nothing, for if something truly important needed be said, it would be when they were ready. Silence had become a comfortable thing with them, not an awkward thing that need be filled with even more awkward small talk.

“Zal, no. I’m fine. Take your time, really there’s no rush.” Wendy replied, feeling guilty for worrying her friend. “Besides, Bandit wouldn’t let anything happen to me, would you, boy?” The dog almost grinned and thumped his tail against the hard wood floor.

Just as she finished stirring the Agave nectar into the mugs, a knock signaled his arrival. Hanging up her phone and setting it down, the young woman ran to answer the door. Beaming, she hugged him tightly. “You look pale. Have you been resting enough?” Wendy asked, her guilt and concern only growing as she showed him inside. Had her message done this? If not, how long had he been in this state that she didn’t notice until now? Her heart falling, Wen bit her lip before holding one of the mugs out to him. Peppermint was after all a wonderful aid for many health concerns.

[onlyhatredleft]

Paramore, “Last Hope”