eternity_dreams (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
eternity_dreams) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
veiledallegory2010-02-17 12:23 am
eternity_dreams) wrote in veiledallegory2010-02-17 12:23 am
Entry tags:
Damned/Xenosaga: End.
Title: End.
Fandom: Damned/Xenosaga.
Warnings: Uh? Character death. A version of the future.
Word Count: 554.
Characters: URTVs.
Notes: Nigredo POV.
Summary: Harsh movements from the recent past only illuminate a clear decision. What was once held dear is all that remains. No evidence backing, a choice is made.
End.
One might wonder, after everything, why he still held any care in his heart. The past days had rose and fell like the moon’s pull on the ocean, each day being trumped by the one after it, each night quickly becoming the same. Was he supposed to feel fondness towards the ones called family now? One brother to abandon and speak things that should never be said or admitted, shocks to the system on top of the pain of a break. Another to give and take fluidly, offering what could not be fully given, taking back any kind of trust in the form of blood and violence. This was how the days had passed.
There had been steps leading up to this. He could look back and see how the path led here. A false death, the sharp pressure on a cheek, a sore and beaten body to accompany the weight of a heavy guilt. It was so obvious, looking back. This was the only place they would end.
A death was needed, was necessary. There was no getting around that fact. And so he could witness one brother giving into temptation to placate a need--throwing himself at his other half, his only source of oblivion in hope of it coming. And as well, he could see the other attempting to restrain himself as he futilely planned; his own aura brightening to match. They would kill each other, or he would kill one of them. Because they were weapons, despite what one would insist. They could not merely exist without this kind of interaction. They were created for it.
It was not a loss of hope or loss of love that filled him, simply an expanding knowledge of the actions left to him in this moment. He would fight with them, yes, but he could never bring himself to fell one of them. There was nothing in him capable of the act--destroyed inside, perhaps, but while he still existed as he did, it was not possible. And if one of them was forced to kill the other, they would lose a reason for existence. And he would not have his own shameful blood on their hands. Was he supposed to continue caring for them, after everything, he had wondered? He did, because there was nothing else he could do. It was not a choice, it was simply what was.
Two shots from his gun brought their blazing attention back to him. Above the stands, he thought he saw his father's pleased smile mirrored in another's arrogant grin. He ignored it. That would stop, the expression wiped soon enough. Because he didn't play by the rules set before him. Like a time in the past, he would end it again with a shot.
One shake of his head, a disapproving expression, something broken in his eyes, and the warm muzzle pressed against his temple, his brothers' startled expressions burned into his mind. One had to die--the man didn't specify how. And his existence was the one that least mattered; his existence threatened theirs. And taking away the risk he produced created something like the feeling of a right decision to burst in his chest for the first time that he could remember.
This was how he left their world--he smiled sweetly, and pulled the trigger.
Fandom: Damned/Xenosaga.
Warnings: Uh? Character death. A version of the future.
Word Count: 554.
Characters: URTVs.
Notes: Nigredo POV.
Summary: Harsh movements from the recent past only illuminate a clear decision. What was once held dear is all that remains. No evidence backing, a choice is made.
End.
One might wonder, after everything, why he still held any care in his heart. The past days had rose and fell like the moon’s pull on the ocean, each day being trumped by the one after it, each night quickly becoming the same. Was he supposed to feel fondness towards the ones called family now? One brother to abandon and speak things that should never be said or admitted, shocks to the system on top of the pain of a break. Another to give and take fluidly, offering what could not be fully given, taking back any kind of trust in the form of blood and violence. This was how the days had passed.
There had been steps leading up to this. He could look back and see how the path led here. A false death, the sharp pressure on a cheek, a sore and beaten body to accompany the weight of a heavy guilt. It was so obvious, looking back. This was the only place they would end.
A death was needed, was necessary. There was no getting around that fact. And so he could witness one brother giving into temptation to placate a need--throwing himself at his other half, his only source of oblivion in hope of it coming. And as well, he could see the other attempting to restrain himself as he futilely planned; his own aura brightening to match. They would kill each other, or he would kill one of them. Because they were weapons, despite what one would insist. They could not merely exist without this kind of interaction. They were created for it.
It was not a loss of hope or loss of love that filled him, simply an expanding knowledge of the actions left to him in this moment. He would fight with them, yes, but he could never bring himself to fell one of them. There was nothing in him capable of the act--destroyed inside, perhaps, but while he still existed as he did, it was not possible. And if one of them was forced to kill the other, they would lose a reason for existence. And he would not have his own shameful blood on their hands. Was he supposed to continue caring for them, after everything, he had wondered? He did, because there was nothing else he could do. It was not a choice, it was simply what was.
Two shots from his gun brought their blazing attention back to him. Above the stands, he thought he saw his father's pleased smile mirrored in another's arrogant grin. He ignored it. That would stop, the expression wiped soon enough. Because he didn't play by the rules set before him. Like a time in the past, he would end it again with a shot.
One shake of his head, a disapproving expression, something broken in his eyes, and the warm muzzle pressed against his temple, his brothers' startled expressions burned into his mind. One had to die--the man didn't specify how. And his existence was the one that least mattered; his existence threatened theirs. And taking away the risk he produced created something like the feeling of a right decision to burst in his chest for the first time that he could remember.
This was how he left their world--he smiled sweetly, and pulled the trigger.