| Bardo of Despair and Inspiration; [Singlepost] | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 30 2013, 01:15 AM (68 Views) | |
| Czernobog | Dec 30 2013, 01:15 AM Post #1 |
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Best Influence.
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He was walking home after a night at the forge. Things were going well -- they had a rotating security now, he had multiple routes home that he decided upon by rolling a die, his employees (or friends, because the line was very thin at the forge, and nonexistent elsewhere, at least he hoped) were working hard and seemed to be in good spirits -- in every arena but his own personal life. Naoya kept his head down and motored forward, he tried not to think about how things were going in his head. The encroaching wordless static, the yellow-eyed fiend, they were distractions. He had his goal in front of him and he would get there. He would. He had to keep telling himself that everything would be find so long as he kept his head up. Metaphorically at least. His routes had to go long. He needed to avoid Matechi Street. Needed to give a buffer around the time of the arson. So he found himself walking down a residential street with crooked sidewalks. Ancient wooden homes shouldered in one next to another, hunching close as if for warmth. The moon was a thin fingernail sliver in the blue-black sky. The wind whispered. It wasn't a bad night, all things being equal. Suddenly, he sensed someone by his side. "Giving in to despair, are we?" "Not on yer life," he said. His shadow suddenly stood before him, holding him in place with hands on his shoulders. He staggered backwards, trying to shrug out of its touch. It looked as it always did: his doppelganger, dressed in a disheveled school uniform, gory wound splitting its head open, eyes a baleful yellow. "What have I said about lying? About saying what you don't mean?" "You said you'd burn me outta my own skull if'n I did," Naoya said, his voice flat. "So don't lie. It's simple, fuckhead." Naoya remained silent. "So are you? Giving in to despair, I mean." "I c'n feel doubt without givin' in to jack shit." "So you can, but I know you. You doubt the meaning of things. You think that no one deserves anything, least of all you. You feel the world to be cruel and random." Naoya stood up straighter. "So? Feelin' that way motivates me. It...it gives me reason t' try'n be a good person. I don't wanna wreck anyone else's day, 'n' I just hope they'll pay me the same courtesy." His shadow shook its head and tsked. "Yet you still feel entitled. You still feel disappointed. You dwell on the negative and call it wisdom." He looked away, unwilling to meet its gaze longer than he had to. "Hey. Hey, fuckhead. Hey." It snapped its fingers. Naoya looked back. "You're a murderer. You're full of hate and lust and envy and pride. You deserve bad things to happen to you. Or at least that's what you're unwilling to admit to yourself." "I...I got my good parts," Naoya said with a shrug. He didn't sound very convincing, or very convinced. Instead, he seemed to just want this to be over, to get home and finish his homework and crawl into bed having survived another day. "Yeah. But how do they measure up?" "I...I dunno," Naoya admitted. "Oh, so the fucking know-it-all finally admits that he has no goddamn clue. Thank god we found one. I'll tell you the truth: they don't. The people who tell you everything's okay? They have no idea what you've done. They don't know the people you've hurt and wrecked and killed. Those people? They aren't real to the people who are offering you forgiveness. So it doesn't matter." His shadow stepped back, gave him a half-smile, and shook its head. "Is this goin' t' be another one of those 'I just wanna be punished' talks?" Naoya asked, tiredly. "Cause I know how that one goes." "Of course you do, fuckhead. As disgusted as it makes me to say it -- " "'M you and yer me," Naoya said, cutting it off. "Yeah. 'S th' truth. 'N' if I'm 's much 'f a broken record 's you are, maybe I should just off myself like you advised." "Now there's a thought," it said, narrowing its eyes and stroking its chin. "What?" "What?" "'Re you..." Naoya began. "We're getting off topic," the shadow said. "The way you live -- the things you focus on -- they're poisoning you. You're focused so much on the negative aspect of things that there's no real hope for you." "I don't believe that," Naoya said, and pushed past his shadow, walking down the street. It fell into step at his heels. "Do you?" "Course I don't. I'm goin' t' say it 'n' convince m'self, 'cause that's how one changes. We...we tell ourselves things over 'n' over so's they become reflexive. 'M applyin' what your sayin' -- 's just that, y'know, what you call lyin' to myself, I call a valid avenue t' change. 'M not complete, not by any stretch." It appeared before him again and stopped him. "Hang on, fuckhead. You're just twisting things around. You're taking what I'm saying and using it to justify what you're already doing. That isn't the way the game is played." "You ain't offerin' any advice!" Naoya shouted back. "You just tell me 'm doin' it wrong 'n' threaten me f'r tryin' t' fix it! 'M gettin' real sick 'f your shit!" "The feeling's mutual, fuckhead. You think I want to be here? You think I want to be? I'm sick of this. You're sick. Really, really, really sick," an expression of concern flickered over the shadow's face. "You're going to really hurt somebody if you keep going." Naoya blinked. This was new. "What? Who'm I goin' t' hurt?" The shadow's eyes closed, and it appeared to be trying to think. "You're going to..." The shadow vanished as a wave of fire washed over the city before Naoya's eyes, breaking apart houses like matchsticks. Everything he heard was drowned out in the roar of flames and the thunder of hooves. |
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