; glory and gore [1]

T H I R T Y - N I N E ; MOON

_______I'm without her but it's clear that she belongs here...

Bonds could be taken for one magnificent flower's petals, aching or florishing out of outsider decisions and effects.

If they're nourished from a sincere love and mutual trust, then the plant becomes a mesmerizing object, so pure and bright that it could put a drastic end to one's torments, just by the sight of its heavenly view.

Even if the petals were to be coldly detached from the beautiful flower, you'd swear they couldn't ever lose their charm, still receiving the power of an honest yet invisible link between two individuals.

If you do not cautiously take care of it however, filling it with uneven gentle emotions for one another, it rapidly fades away.

Even if you try your best to fix the tragedy, your lack of principles and loyalty ultimately and slowly killing the soft plant, nothing could be done to repair the damages.

What about the cursed flowers, the kind that are repeatedly granted by betrayals and destroyed by white lies ?

Maybe they deserve their sad fate, karma probably punishing them for another past life's despicable actions.

But does anything and anyone ever deserves to be broken in pieces, so abruptly and frequently that they ask themselves if they're even capable of picking themselves back up anymore ?

They all knew the war in which they were engaging would be damageful, a menacing cloud following their devious silhouettes wherever they'd go.

None of them ever envisioned it to end it up like this, wrecking anything they used to hold onto when bad times would occur, the good turning into bad, the light changing into dark and their already troubled minds hung upside-down.

None, not even The Reaper himself, collecting souls for such a long time that it should have been the easiest task to foreseen such an outcome.

Except someone prevented him from imagining such things, someone special.

Someone who crept into his cursed heart, her hidden kindness and gentle touch ironically stealing his own soul.

Weeks from then, let along months away, Seth would have laughed at anyone's bringing up the unlikely theory : a fragile entity reviving his toughen up one - maybe his skin became a little too thick for anyone to penetrate it.

Now he's left admiring from a far away his savior's refuge, well aware she must be mourning the last battle's dead. Not actual corpses, just a former figure she would have sacrified everything in order to keep out of harm.

The sole fact he attempts to imagine her actual condition, connecting both their beings for a fraction of a second and emulating her suffering immediately sends a shock wave through his body, the pain too unbearable for his devious self.