ryther-writes

[ryther-writes]

The Good, The Bad, and The Truth.

The beef had been squashed. Hikaru was finally free of it all.

So why the hell am I still so worried?

She turned the phone in her hands, reading over the conversation she had with Kaito to herself again. Maybe on the hunt for her? Probably not. He didn’t seem the like the type of guy to just disappear out of thin air. Too many people to a dickhead to in his free time to just give that up.

Nah, he’s missing.

That worried her.

Shit’s about to pop.

I hate that I was right about that shit. I thought I was being paranoid, that Kenji was just making me scared of everyone and everything. But no, Kaito, you just had to go and show me the truth.

Fuck you, Kaito.

Still a bastard?

No, he’s a good guy.

And where does that leave me, huh? I’m just supposed to carry the secret now? Just let the city explode and burn, and do absolutely nothing at all?

...yeah, probably. That’s what the quiet ones always do.

Being a silent observer had its benefits, in the end. Hikaru couldn’t deny that. Few people ever bothered you, and less remembered any slights. The most you might get it “hey, I remember this one time she helped me...” and that was it. It was rare that someone had something bad to say about you.

Well, unless they were a grumpy fuck named Ishimoto Kenji.

Hikaru shuddered at the idea of him going missing. Did someone do him in, or was he just over the life, too?

Doubt it, but Kaito had a point. Maybe we are changing with the times. Maybe Kenji realized it was time to change, too. Or maybe the city just left him in the dust.

As her thoughts began to drift, she remembered the news of the casting call from the other day.

So that’s where you were, Hideo. All this time, I thought you had given up on the city and this life, that you were living life in a way none of us could ever dream. But here you are, pulled back into the fray. Maybe none of us can ever really leave.

She wasn’t mad that he had ghosted her.

Maybe had he never checked to begin with. Writing is a process, right? Maybe he needed a lot of time in solitude to think and focus. Can’t be burdened with other people’s problems. Hell, I can relate, Hideo.

I just hope you know that shit’s about to pop, and no screenplay will come close to portraying reality.

Stay safe.

[ryther-writes]

Hero(?)

Tatsuri had come and gone, and nothing of note was in the headlines. Hikaru was so certain of herself that something had to happen, maybe another beginning of a hellish world like before.

Fuck me, I really am getting paranoid. I thought everything would be fine, but this shit...it just ruined everything.

Fuck you, Kenji. Fuck you too, Kaito. Bastards.

Hikaru took out a cigarette, standing under the awning of a local gas station as rain pattered down steadily outside the safety of cover. The vile words that ran through her head made her angry - it made her want to fight back, to make them regret ruining her life, to get back for that girl that they sent out there to be used by some man who wouldn’t even care what happened to her after he was through with her.

She clenched her fists as she took a drag on the cigarette, and then she relaxed as she puffed out smoke.

I can’t do anything. Damnit, I can’t do anything at all except run. I’m so sorry. I wish I could give them hell, but I’m just...I’m just not strong enough.

Daughter.

Sister.

Survivor.

Outsider.

Outcast.

Hero?

No.

I wish I was.

But no.

Hikaru watched the rain fall, letting out a huff as she stared up at the grey, ugly sky. The weariness set in as she watched people pass her by going in and out of the store, some together, and some alone. None of them so much as gave her a look, and it only added to the weight that she felt pressing down on her shoulders, daring to suffocate her in front of everyone, and yet it would be an act that nobody would see.

Would they even care?

Probably not.

The only people who do care are Eiko and mom. Maybe Giichi, if I’m lucky. And they’d get over me disappearing eventually, too. Maybe it’d hurt. Maybe it’d kill mom. But the world would grieve for mom. She’s written books that people love, and they know the name Takagi Ayumi.

Not a single tear for me.

Maybe it’s just supposed to be that way. If it is, well...

I guess I’ll know when the day comes.

[ryther-writes]

Bloodstain

Hikaru sat in the room, lights off, her phone screen the only source of light to be found. The silence was beginning to ring in her ears, the feeling of loneliness beginning to crush her. So she reached out to her only solace, the one companion who couldn’t leave her until death do them part.

Earbuds in. And...go.

She nodded her head along with the beat, zoning in and out of the lyrics. At first they were indecipherable, not because she couldn’t understand them, but because she couldn’t be bothered to listen.

Words didn’t matter to anyone anymore.

Still, she found herself listening closer as the track went on. This was the escape from reality she craved so badly.

It doesn’t matter what I say

Users and losers

There’s nothing here to make me stay.

Ain’t that some shit. Everyone’s changed. Hell, even Giichi’s changed. He’s trying to say that he wants to change how things are being run, but he’s just kidding himself. Look at what happened when I didn’t do anything to anyone. Hunted. Imagine if someone speaks up, tries to change something?

He’ll definitely be made an example of. Should I warn him? He’s way more of a fighter than I am. He probably doesn’t need the warning. Maybe I did do something wrong after all.

The first chorus came and went, just like that. Hikaru didn’t hear a single lyric from the girl. She didn’t have to. She knew this song by heart. Played it a hundred - no, a thousand times.

This love is not what we’re about

It’s too late, and I’m too straight

It’s time to blow this fire out

The fire is right under their asses, judging by the news. I wonder if they’ll still even care as it gets hotter. Probably. Wouldn’t surprise me. Even if the rest of them stop caring, Kenji won’t forget. He’ll never let them forget, even if they started burning alive.

If that’s the case, then burn, motherfucker, burn. Burn like I did.

Bloodstain on a blue vein

Take it with no shame

Hikaru contemplated her sister’s words.

Don’t be a hero. Mom writes about them dying all the time.

I wish I could be, sis. I don’t know how. Maybe go out in a blaze of glory, maybe just try to smooth things over. What’s the hero move in a situation like this? Is running really the answer? These fucks should bleed for the things they’re doing. Not to me, but to all the other innocent people. That girl...

She’s the one I need to be doing shit for. I can’t just let this slide. But I can’t tell my sister. I’m not putting her in danger either. I already lost Dad, and if I make it out of this clusterfuck alive and she didn’t...

You are alone.

The words came as a shock to Hikaru’s system, the song ending almost immediately after.

Silence.

Reality.

No more music.

The loneliness.

The terror.

It all came back.

It never left.

She’ll never leave.

[ryther-writes]

...The Past.

0_Kenji: >> sp1egel: Hey, don't be a stranger.

0_Kenji: >> sp1egel:You never know where you might find people.

0_Kenji: >> sp1egel: See you, girl.

She read the messages over again. Was it the second time? The tenth? The hundredth? Hikaru lost count of the amount of times she had read those final three messages from Kenji since he had sent them. She still hadn’t responded back. She wasn’t going to.

There was no need to.

I’m so fucking dead.

...so why am I less scared of dying than I was in the last world?

The question disturbed Hikaru deeply. Death was always frightening, even when she tried to act for years that she didn’t care at all about such a thing happening to her. After all, dad was gone, her mom might as well have died too with her drinking, and her sister would find a way to move on from it. Being dead didn’t change anything, other than she would no longer be stuck with the pain and loneliness she had felt since her father passed.

Freedom, she thought, would be hers. But when Miura held that sword in his hands, cutting down one classmate of hers down after another, she felt afraid. More afraid than she had ever felt before. Hikaru, who had prided herself on being the coolest person who never made a show of it, was anything but cool.

Maybe if I hadn’t been scared, I wouldn’t have died along with the rest of them. I don’t know if I could have saved them -- fuck no, I couldn’t have. But maybe I would have known what would’ve come next.

But this felt different. Was it the looming sense of doom, rather than a sudden explosion that gave her time to think about it? The knowledge that she would be hunted - and maybe not found tomorrow, or the next week, or the next year - gave her an odd sense of comfort. She knew the end was coming, she could say goodbye, she could make things right, she could --

No. Your life isn’t over yet, Hikaru.

Maybe I am dead. Maybe I wasn’t even alive to begin with.

There’s only one way I can find out. But until that moment comes - I gotta run. The past may catch up eventually, or maybe I’ll run back into the past. But for now, going forward is the only thing I can do. That I should have done in my last life.

Run, Hikaru.

Run.

[ryther-writes]

The Future

//I felt like I’ve been losing my writing ability a bit with how dry my classes this semester have been so far, and wanted to take a creative break between watching lectures and writing responses/papers and just write something for my Sunrise character for fun. Enjoy.

--

“What are you going to do now that you’re done with school?”

The question rang in Hikaru’s ears days later, having come up during a conversation with her sister for their first meeting since Hikaru’s graduation. She laughed it off then, dodging the question entirely and bringing the attention towards the ramen they were chatting over. She knew that Eiko wasn’t happy, but her sister hasn’t pressed the issue since then.

Couple of people got their shit figured out already, of course. The overachievers of Reimei City. Hikaru stuck a cigarette in her mouth, taking out her lighter. I’ve seen a couple of them sticking together. Kaito’s moving up, pretty sure Giichi would be willing to step up as well to give him a hand. She took a drag on the cigarette, letting the ash fall carelessly onto the pavement. Sure as hell won’t be me. They’ll probably forget about me eventually anyways, although sometimes I wondered if they even knew who I was to begin with.

She checked the kickstand on her motorcycle absently, taking another drag on the cigarette. Don’t know where that leaves me, though. Always did just kind of wing it, sis. Still...maybe that’s part of what you do once you get out of high school. Or at least give it some thought. Damn, what do people think of? Their parents? Mom, well...Eiko said she was trying to get better, but I still don’t give much of a fuck what she thinks right now. I give her credit for honestly trying though, so maybe our relationship isn’t irreparable. And dad, well...he’d just tell me to follow my heart. I could always become a mechanic like him, but eh...

Hikaru looks at the motorcycle, her father’s final gift to her before he had passed from the cancer. Sorry, dad. You’d understand though. You were pretty happy when Eiko told you she wanted to be a police officer...she didn’t quite reach that height, but a lawyer is pretty damn close. Can’t say I am quite the same shining example of an upstanding citizen, but I suppose things could be worse too.

Hikaru reached up with one hand, rubbing her neck as she took one final drag on her cigarette before ashing it out on a nearby tray. She began to walk back to her motorcycle, although she stopped after seeing a flier on a nearby wall that stood out from the rest - perhaps annoyingly so. The bright red background with popping yellow text was hard on the eyes to say the least, but it did sound interesting...

-

DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES??

We at Takahashi Cycles are looking for a driver to race for us in the next upcoming national road racing circuit, and what better to choose one of Reimei City’s own than holding a race of our own! The winner will be able to represent Takahashi Cycles, and bring themselves fortune and fame in the process!

More details can be inquired from the contact number listed below...

-

There were several strips remaining, and Hikaru hesitated for a moment. Is this what I really want? I mean, I have been doing this for a while, but I’m nowhere near the best. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt...

She tore off the strip with the contact information, reading it once to herself and then stuffing it in her pocket, returning to her bike and removing the kickstand.

Here goes nothing.

[ryther-writes]

A Haunted Past

Is this all that there is for me? I thought I had - could - get past it all. Most kindred tend to shrug off their past over time, transforming into something new, if not monstrous. I could never do that, but I always think I could let go. Yet, on this night, I almost died because I couldn’t let go of my past. I couldn’t simply feed my blood to Belmont and move on; no, I needed to prove that I had skills I once possessed. I needed to prove that being a part of what I am is not always the answer. I...I needed to prove that all I had done then was so that I could help people now.

Crowley’s fists curl, the anger inside her rising to her throat, threatening to escape in a scream of rage at any moment, to let the tide flow so that the pain and frustration that would come after would ebb quicker. Nevertheless, she holds it in for the time being.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He could have died. I could have died. That could have been any one of us!  I would have never been forgiven if I had let Belle or Abraham die by a similar manner, nor should I be. And somehow, I still can’t lead myself to let it all go, I still have to have some part of my past, my...humanity, be a part of who I am. Another curse upon my being.

Crowley’s fists slowly release their grip, and the anger subsides, only to be replaced with a feeling of emptiness that nests itself deep inside the very core of her being. She takes a seat on one of the benches within the garden, burying her face in her hands.

I only hope this will not be all for nothing. Every night I wake up, telling myself that; yet it feels like even when there is success, I have a failure of some sort to account for. Perhaps that is just a part of being human, but I cannot get rid of this lingering dread that it will one day cost me my life. And when that day comes - and I feel that it likely will - will I at least get to say goodbye?

There was no answer that came to Crowley. Only the terrible, unrelenting, and oppressive sound of silence.

[ryther-writes]

Cursed.

It is hard to tell what even is my true curse any more. The old man called our vampirism a curse, and it has indeed been a curse upon my life. No longer can I return home. No longer can I know a normal life. No longer can I even see the day rise, unless I want to die. And yet...yet I feel like my humanity is becoming a curse in this life I now live. To give away those among us who are afflicted with both the curse of a vampire and that of a werewolf away to the man to stop a war seems like an easy decision, and yet I cannot bring myself to immediately sell them out. No doubt that it would also turn even more people against me if I were to advocate for such a thing. But if there is no other option?...

And not to mention me going against my coterie because I felt a sense of duty and debt toward the Carnival. Although I am uncertain as to whether or not Weiss would have taken me anyway, as she sent away Jean-Pierre, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had wronged them in some way. If I am to get them to trust me and stay on my side, surely it would be the right decision to follow them wherever they go.

Crowley looked out to the road ahead as she continued the trek away from the forest she had encountered the source of the issue - and sprouted a new one in the process, the feeling of a weight on her shoulders growing heavier.

Damn it all. No matter what it is I do, there is always consequences. Perhaps that is the true curse that is afflicted upon me.

I only hope that I am not damned to eternal judgement as well.

[ryther-writes]

A Quiet Resolve

Can you trust them?

Can you believe another word that comes out of their mouth?

Can you expect your only true friend to have your back?

Can you fight?

Can you survive?

Can you do anything at all, or are you destined to merely fall into line with everyone else, giving up your own beliefs and ideals just to avoid losing your head - or worse.

No. I can’t. To give in would be selling my very soul for a hollow promise of life. But to continue down this path will no doubt lead to the end. I have few friends, and no doubt I’ve made quite a number of enemies now. There are good people here, I do believe that much, but...it feels as if any lack the conviction to stand up when it matters most.

And could I even say anything to the court? Who would believe me? And more importantly, who would do anything about it? They say it is their law to diablerize another who goes against their order, but it doesn’t sit right with me nonetheless.

Despite being able to do something about it in the moment, I feel as if I have damned myself, and perhaps those around me if they were not damned already. A participant who tries to make a difference, but ultimately remains a footnote, if that. No doubt they will erase me at the first opportunity they get. But until that moment comes...

I will fight.

[ryther-writes]

You always said that you wanted to see home again someday. You thought maybe once you did, everything would go back to normal, and we’d be happy and prosperous once again. Yet here I stand now at the door, and I find myself unable to walk into the other side.

I don’t think I can find myself going home ever again now that you’re gone. I wish I could, for your sake if not for mine, but I...I’m simply not strong enough for this. It was your dream primarily, true, but it was mine too. I had that dream that we’d see it through together, papa.

With you gone, though, that dream is dead. Perhaps it was meant to be in the end, a way to finally move on from home and find somewhere else to settle. Or maybe I was never meant to settle somewhere to begin with. That sounds much more likely to me.

I’m sorry for failing you again, as I’m sure you’d be disappointed that I couldn’t finish what we started. I still may one day yet find the courage to finally open that door and enter Ala Mhigo’s welcoming embrace. But until that day arrives - if it ever does - I will continue to walk my own path, going wherever the winds may take me next.

Farewell.

[ryther-writes]

Papa,

I don’t know where to start, to be honest. We’ve been through hell and back again, and the world around us has changed several times in recent years, yet we never really changed all that much. Sure, I moved to the Far East and learned a new discipline, but I never really accomplished anything new. It ended the same way it always does - a loss that damages any chance of accomplishing anything that matters. I’m sure I could have kept going with my path of being a Samurai, but it wouldn’t have been the same. I needed that validation that I had done something right for once. To be able to finally see a journey successfully to its end would have finally meant something had changed. But it hadn’t.

And now I sit here, futilely writing a letter to you despite knowing you’re now gone too. Why did you go? I was going to come back soon to you and try to make things right again. I had received rudimentary training to be a Gunbreaker, like you said mother had begun to learn the art of when we had left home. I know they said you had gotten sick and were too poor to be able to provide assistance for yourself, but you never reached out to me. Was it the shame of my misdeeds so many years ago that made you not reach out? Was your own pride too great to ask something of me that would have quite literally saved your life because you couldn’t stand being aided by someone you considered to be a failure?

I suppose you’ll take the answers to those questions to your grave. I don’t know whether to be angry, sad, or perhaps even relieved. I think not knowing the answers to those questions just makes it hurt so much more, because all I can manage to feel is an empty void in my heart, my stomach, my whole body. Something that I can’t ever fill back up, no matter how hard I try or how many words I write on this paper. Truth be told, I’m still unsure what I’m going to do, but I was told by the Hrothgar teaching me that being a Gunbreaker is more than just an artform. He said it was a way of life, that we live and die by this blade we carry, and that we must stand firm against any that threaten us or the lives of the innocent. Maybe I won’t be any good at it, but...

I have to try.

I love you Papa. Maybe this time, I can finally make you proud.

See you someday,

Kyranyx.

[ryther-writes]

“When did it happen?”

“A few weeks ago...we couldn’t find a way to contact you. She suggested a house to us that was in Gridania, but there was nothing there.”

“I moved out of there a while back. Maybe if I had stayed, I could have-”

“There wasn’t anything you could do, Kyranyx. Master Hatasashi was too far gone.”

“Maybe. I only wish I had been here to pay my respects when all the others were as well.”

“And we wished for your presence too. But it is better late than never...although, what will you do now? You were on a sabbatical for her.”

“I...I think I’m going to go. To where, I’m not certain. Wherever the winds and sea take me. Whoever the people I meet along the way may be, whether they be friends, enemies, or something more...they will guide my way. As they always have...”

“...but I think it is time for a new beginning.”

[ryther-writes]

The Madness of Violence

At first, I didn’t listen. I heard their warnings, but I disobeyed them. Once again, I was wrong. The voices were low at first when I woke, a distant soul or two who whispered to run. They grew in volume and size as the night went out, and a chorus broke out right as the chaos did.

RUN. RUN. RUN.

But I stayed, because I thought there was something I could learn from this night. I wasn’t even particularly welcome amongst the Camarilla, but I wasn’t totally without allies either in the slaughter. Nines, Jayita, and Isaac all proved themselves worthy allies, although I don’t know what happened to the last two. I hope they’re okay.

The details are already beginning to slip my mind, though. I don’t know how I got out, I just know that it happened. I don’t know what happened to me, but my head hurt like hell afterwards. I must’ve taken a bad hit at some point. I don’t remember most of the faces I saw, they’re just cloudy specters that taunt my memories. I wish I could curse them, but I would be cursing nothing.

Damn it all.

Damn this curse.

...damn myself.

Maybe I’ll be able to remember some of this by writing it down. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll continue to lose my mind, the memories I share will slowly fade away into the void, never to be obtained again. Will they hate me for not remembering this night? Will they even believe it?

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

There will be no more running on these nights. I have to learn to fight and to control myself, lest the madness of violence consumes me as well.

[ryther-writes]

A Scarlet Dream

Your cheeks are turning scarlet Is it from embarrassment or the spirits? Whatever it may, it’s time to say goodbye And let yourself become free From this terrible place and into the rain You have to enjoy it, because soon it will be winter

And once that cold weather comes, oh Winter, Perhaps it’s time you dye your hair scarlet It will be so firey it’ll turn that snow into rain So bedazzling it can lift even the lowest of spirits Those crimson locks, flowing in the windy freely The beauty will make anyone resent a final goodbye

But someday, we will have to give our last goodbye And none want to perish in a cold and bitter winter If only we had a choice, to let death give us that freedom Whenever it comes, I hope I get to see that scarlet One last time, and give me the spirit Of hope, even if the day I go is rainy.

I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t rain Down on your parade, my day’s been good, bye. I just can’t really seem to get into the spirit Of things, perhaps it’s because of the approaching winter Or maybe it’s because I miss Scarlett. Whenever you want to talk again, I’ll be free.

It’s just that I want to let it be free To not obscure my feelings, to let them out like a pouring rain I’m afraid I’ve left some scars, lets Try and mend them, before you say goodbye Please don’t leave me standing here in this brutal winter Weather, or all that will be left of me is my spirit.

I am not one to be spiritual, But whatever or whoever made us, we’re meant to be free Whether it be myself or you, Winter I’m leaving soon for a train It’s now or never, and I hope this isn’t goodbye And if it is, then I will never forget that scarlet.

The only friend I have left now is the spirit in my hand, and the rain Over head reminds me of that winter, those cheeks turning scarlet And now I know what it’s like to be free, and I’m ready to give my last goodbye.

[ryther-writes]

The End.

There is much I have experienced in such a short amount of time. I’ve seen a man’s attempt at rising to something much greater, and I was present, albeit unconscious at the time of his demise. I lost a piece of myself physically, mentally, and emotionally down in that hole. Perhaps I will find something to fill that void, but does it truly matter?

There is nothing for me to return to. I gave my life away, so that the future generations of Robynson’s could have a life of their own. I cannot return, I cannot look my love in the eye after years of silence. I am not the same man that Amber once knew - I don’t even know if she is still alive, truthfully.

And so I am left with an emptiness within. I do not think I can find myself among these people. Although they hunt, a skill I am quite familiar with, it is not beasts they hunt. Creatures, monsters, and perhaps worst of all, humans that have gone beyond death are their targets. People who have given up everything, and who will give up anything to be in control of others. It makes me sick, and yet...

I wish they had not destroyed his haven. Not because I thought it did good, but perhaps because I could find my peace in there. Perhaps I could have understood the evil, and controlled it so that it would never plague another innocent soul so long as I kept my sanity. And perhaps none of those things would happen, and I would die alone and without any concept of who I am anymore. But at least it would have been on my own terms.

I do not know what I am going to do. Perhaps I will wander this countryside until the day I die. Perhaps I will settle down, wither away until I am but another name forgotten from history. There are so many what-if’s that I will carry to my grave. But currently, I do have one purpose at least. The man who died twice over, Duncan. He deserves to be remembered, or at the very least have his belongings buried or returned to the one in his locket. I do not know if I will find that person, but if it is the last thing I do in my long, torturous journey, then I can die a happy man.

Regardless, I believe this may be the end for myself. If anyone finds this, do not despair. For however much faith you lose, know that humanity can never truly fall against the darkness. Look to the light in your darkest hour, and it may just be the thing that guides you to your true purpose.

Farewell,

Cassius Robynson

[ryther-writes]

Reality Undone

It’s rare that I tend to write down what I think, but perhaps this will give me some kind of peace of mind. I feel like I’m in a constant downward spiral, even if nothing is truly going wrong like it is right now. We’re heading west, and we’re alive, but I wonder if it’s worth it for me to be alive. I was content in my ignorance, thinking that, perhaps, I had grown to understand the world better. Perhaps I could have returned home within the next decade, to be able to protect my mother. Perhaps I would be able to fight for my country, and to teach the others the techniques from the West so we may be able to protect ourselves and each other.

But now I know I am nowhere near ready. Everything I know has turned out to only be a fraction of what the world truly is. Darkness looms at every corner, and it threatens to consume every last human who walks this earth. No longer can even the dead be granted rest, as it turns out. And perhaps any tragedies that may occur, things we think are just freak accidents of nature, well...it’s hard to say what they were now.

I don’t know what’s real anymore. I thought there was only our world, but there is another world where awful creatures watch your every movement, and hundreds can lay dead beneath your very person, and you may never know the truth of it all. I thought my friend was real, and the Major seems to indicate as such, but when was she real? When did she stop being real? Is there a version of me, a pretender who befriends others? Who loves others? Who hates others?

I don’t think I want the answer to that question. Not because I’m afraid of closure, but because I’m afraid that even if the answer is no, it may not be a solid denial. I don’t want to hear: “Well, no, but...”

Mayu stops writing for a moment, taking a deep breath and placing her hands in her face. It wasn’t until she made contact with her hands that she realized that they were shaking rather violently, and her breath began to quicken and her whole body began to shake just as bad. She moved her hands down to the back-end of the chair, gripping it as hard as she could in an attempt to steady herself, whilst also trying to control her breathing to a more steady pace. Each minute that passed felt like an eternity, the sound of the train the only thing keeping Mayu from losing herself entirely.

Slowly but surely, she began to regain her composure, and Mayu continually nodded to herself.

“Finish it. You owe yourself that much.”

She leaned forward, and began to write once more.

I don’t know if this is one of God’s tests. I am starting to doubt if God watches over each of us, or perhaps if he even truly exists. But I suppose if he doesn’t, then perhaps I can at least keep the faith in myself and my companions.

I just hope that I don’t have to lose myself in the process to find my strength.

@bloodoflordaeron

[ryther-writes]

Bloodied Pride

Blood was running down her gauntlets and mouth as Ysabeau drank from the pool of blood she had tried to hide in only a moment ago. A grisly sight to behold, she was sure of that, but that didn’t matter now. What mattered is that she proved to them - No, to myself she reminded herself - that she was willing to do whatever it took to gain the upper hand against her opponents. To fight for humanity, like she had always done. Any price was worth paying if it meant humanity was safe.

But the blood, that crimson ichor from which she supped upon, that price for which she had to pay was fighting her own body. She wanted to just let it all out, to stop the suffering and to move on from the madness that she couldn’t help but question despite all of her actions.

This isn’t right. They told me to walk my own path, but this isn’t what I imagined. I...

She held on despite her second thoughts. Her plated gauntlets dug down into the ground below her, but she could hardly tell what she was even digging into anymore. Darkness clouded her vision, and so Ysabeau dug harder and harder with her hands, trying to remind herself where she was, until there was darkness. She knew her body had given up, but there was just enough left to hear Tyran’s final words before she slipped into unconsciousness. The congratulations of the final step being taken from the man who lead the band she had come to known over the past weeks.

The Blood.

And then there was nothing.

“Did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Find peace.”

“No.”

“Well, then what did you find?”

“I...I don’t know.”

A small laugh echoed in Ysabeau’s ears. It sounded like it was all around her, but she couldn’t see anything. There was only darkness and the increasing pressure of anxiety that lingered on her shoulders.

“We all stray from the path, my dear. We always expect it to be straightforward and unwavering, but it never truly is. We both knew that when we let you go. Has it been your path, at least?”

“Fleur?”

“Yes?”

Silence for several moments. She knew this couldn’t be real. Could it? It didn’t matter anymore, she wanted to speak to one of her guardians while she could.

“It has been my own path, yes.”

“And did you find what you were looking for?”

She had forgotten. It had been so long since she had thought about it. Beasts and other vile creatures that she had faced since joining the Vigil and then the Sacred Band.

It was now that she remembered.

“I haven’t found them yet, no. I’ve done everything I’ve can; I’ve searched high and low, explore every nook and cranny that I can in France, and I still haven’t found my family yet. Perhaps it is best at this point to assume the worst.”

“Perhaps. But until that moment arrives, when you are absolutely certain there is no other fate that could have befallen them, you continue to look. Not just for yourself, but for us, too. Alright?”

Ysabeau’s response started to form, but she felt her throat get caught up. Every time she tried to let out another sound, she only choked again and again. She was left alone in the darkness with only her thoughts, and the voice never spoke to her again.

I don’t know. But I’ll do anything to make them proud.

@iamreinhardt

[ryther-writes]

A short 10-15 minute assignment I did in my creative writing class. We replaced a word in a phrase or sentence and made something of it - I chose the song title The Girl I Haven’t Met by Kudasai for my phrase.

The Girl I Might’ve Met

It’s a strange feeling whenever I think of the girl I might’ve met. What was her name again? It started with an A, I think...or maybe it was an S. Out of all the names I’ve heard, hers was definitely one of them.

So maybe names aren’t my thing. But I’m usually good with faces and can recognize someone in a line. When I think of the girl I might’ve met, however, the features constantly shift. Sometimes her appearance is more colorful, her hair a bright blue that rivals the skies above and the oceans below, with eyes that are such a vibrant purple they’d make Prince weep in joy. Other times, she’s a bit more plain, but even the plainness of dark hair with dark brown eyes were enough to make me stop and think “Hey, I think I know that girl”.

Whoever you are, girl I might’ve met, I hope that you’ll become the girl I got to know. And maybe finally I can put to rest whether your name starts with an A or an S.