- Joined
- Dec 15, 2012
- Messages
- 1,478
- Reaction score
- 0
With violently spreading waves, fallen decay and withered fungus fled through the vegetation from the engines' encroaching air of stabilization that settled the resting ship down into the risen earth; hiding amidst a small plateau of blue and green roots of rubber that curl fleshy orbs over curtain and conceal their nomadic home for temporary trespasses. Perhaps more was to be taken. Perhaps more was to be gained.
Yet even in the light of day, his eyes sunk, his head rested with his body laid. Salt water gathered, beading in their cratered ducts and sticking with sap. Tears of sin rolled in place of dreams. They mirrored his memories that would not leave him alone. What atrocities he had committed, willingly. All that he had witnessed back on a planet he had come to call home. Everything had twisted from happiness. And he was to blame. He was weak, ill trained, an unable to help. If only he could have saved him, as he had saved Lucifer from ignorance.
On his abdomen, consoling his hardship, were two hands woven together. Occasionally those fingers would drift, would wander. They would rise along the flesh that had been denied his mentor, youth in place of decay, where failure and emptiness resided. Unevenness and deformity was his desire now, a nightmarish dream that haunted his curiosity. Though he was conflicted, those fingers still wondered what it was like to be Gabriel's flesh; in absence. Fixated as he was, he still could not relinquish his perfection and beauty just yet.
But they had survived.
All of it, as he lay there forestalling the inevitable emergence from his bed, was what he had desired. A twist of fate had guided his mentor into his care. The worst had happened, and he was thankful for it. He had taken exactly what he had tried to escape all of his life, what he had vowed to rise above as a Jedi and protector of peace. He had fought back so hard against his destiny that he had found his answer deeply saturated in blood, such an easy and attainable answer by the gifting of the murdered; a girl smashed underneath a pillar as the crowning jewel of all those civilians in the streets. But now, as he lay here alone yet in company of others, he recognized something of even more importance; someone. Gabriel.
Getting up, Lucifer ached of a restless stillness. It was different. Normally his nightmares scared him, taunted him of an uncontrollable release. But now, memories hung over him inescapably and reality dared him to let go. He'd touched that darkness willingly, in the name of good; in the effort to reach and help Gabriel. And again he dared to console a little girl named Krynn. What was this feeling of connection, he wondered. Was this love?
Bearing back the whimper in his heart, with his white curly locks hung down over head, he knew he was expected out there. He knew they had landed and knew there was no waiting for him. Even in his state, his mentor demanded confidence and purpose. And he would, in his confliction, do all that he could to gift pride to this family; as they were by some cruel warp of will, that they all turned in towards each other. They needed each other now, Lucifer believed. It was known that each of them gave to the other, at least Lucifer reasoned it to be so; that he would give of himself fully and become worthy of Gabriel's praise, and for it he would earn his place as loved by the others.
The door slid open. He stepped out, wounded by his internal conflict. All he could do was suppress his worry for whom he thought of as 'father'. He clenched his fists, fear always giving great motivation to his life, and he searched for them. Today was a new day. It was his to seize. These were the days of discovering meaning for his life.
Yet even in the light of day, his eyes sunk, his head rested with his body laid. Salt water gathered, beading in their cratered ducts and sticking with sap. Tears of sin rolled in place of dreams. They mirrored his memories that would not leave him alone. What atrocities he had committed, willingly. All that he had witnessed back on a planet he had come to call home. Everything had twisted from happiness. And he was to blame. He was weak, ill trained, an unable to help. If only he could have saved him, as he had saved Lucifer from ignorance.
On his abdomen, consoling his hardship, were two hands woven together. Occasionally those fingers would drift, would wander. They would rise along the flesh that had been denied his mentor, youth in place of decay, where failure and emptiness resided. Unevenness and deformity was his desire now, a nightmarish dream that haunted his curiosity. Though he was conflicted, those fingers still wondered what it was like to be Gabriel's flesh; in absence. Fixated as he was, he still could not relinquish his perfection and beauty just yet.
But they had survived.
All of it, as he lay there forestalling the inevitable emergence from his bed, was what he had desired. A twist of fate had guided his mentor into his care. The worst had happened, and he was thankful for it. He had taken exactly what he had tried to escape all of his life, what he had vowed to rise above as a Jedi and protector of peace. He had fought back so hard against his destiny that he had found his answer deeply saturated in blood, such an easy and attainable answer by the gifting of the murdered; a girl smashed underneath a pillar as the crowning jewel of all those civilians in the streets. But now, as he lay here alone yet in company of others, he recognized something of even more importance; someone. Gabriel.
Getting up, Lucifer ached of a restless stillness. It was different. Normally his nightmares scared him, taunted him of an uncontrollable release. But now, memories hung over him inescapably and reality dared him to let go. He'd touched that darkness willingly, in the name of good; in the effort to reach and help Gabriel. And again he dared to console a little girl named Krynn. What was this feeling of connection, he wondered. Was this love?
Bearing back the whimper in his heart, with his white curly locks hung down over head, he knew he was expected out there. He knew they had landed and knew there was no waiting for him. Even in his state, his mentor demanded confidence and purpose. And he would, in his confliction, do all that he could to gift pride to this family; as they were by some cruel warp of will, that they all turned in towards each other. They needed each other now, Lucifer believed. It was known that each of them gave to the other, at least Lucifer reasoned it to be so; that he would give of himself fully and become worthy of Gabriel's praise, and for it he would earn his place as loved by the others.
The door slid open. He stepped out, wounded by his internal conflict. All he could do was suppress his worry for whom he thought of as 'father'. He clenched his fists, fear always giving great motivation to his life, and he searched for them. Today was a new day. It was his to seize. These were the days of discovering meaning for his life.
Last edited by a moderator: