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March 5th, 2008
09:18 pm - * * *
Rage and hate take over. She levitates a table onto him. Her anger gives her a lot more power than she can handle. It controls her. He throws the table away and gets up. She would be surprised how strong he is, but her frenzy holds her mind from thinking. Crush, destroy, kill. "Arise!" she screams suddenly rising her hands at the time, and floats up gracefully showing her superiority over him. Then she points her hand at him, pulling him also up as if she had another, invisible, hand on his neck. There is no fear in his dark green eyes - they had always held only bravery in them. Bravery, pain...and with them - such a lot of darkness.
"I hate you!" she says in a voice that would rather belong to a monster than a beautiful young woman.
"I love you," he replies staying completely calm as if being ready to face anything she would care to do to him. As if it does not matter anymore for him, "and I kind of understand why they were burning witches back then."
She throws him on the ground with great force trying to brake each single bone in his body. Invisible platform that was holding her releases her and she is standing on her own feet again, still vicious as all hell deamons combined. She comes up to him and pulls him on his feet violently. She hits him on the face once, twice...then again and again till he is bleeding. She is even stronger than usual.
"I still will not fight you back," he says through his own blood that is filling his throat, "I. Will. NOT." He grabs her by the shoulders trying to hold down and quell her rage and anger. She is still beating him but her strenght begins to fade, her white eyes turn yellow again and she finally collapses in his wounded arms crying, though she already knows. She has no more will or strenght to fight, no more will or strenght to live.
"Hush, my love, It is gone and over now," he whispers deeply stabbing her with a ceremonial dagger and turning it in her agonized body, feeling her vital powers leaving it slowly, "it is all over."
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Comments:
A sad tale. And, unfortunately, quite truthful.
But that is the life of a man, if he is to call him as such. We make sacrifices, and through that, we become great.
Citējot Ibsenu: "Pogu lējējs: "Es pats" ir sevi nonāvēt. Tuvāk paskaidrojot spēt, varēt sevi upurēt, Meistaram tad noderēt."
![[User Picture]](http://klab.lv/userpic/150316/7460) | | From: | ![[info]](http://klab.lv/img/userinfo.gif) simri |
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| Date: | March 5th, 2008 - 10:50 pm |
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Viņai pietrūka tikai pāris minūšu.
Parasti pietrūkst pāris minūšu...stundu...dienu...mēnešu...gadu pat.
No otras puses, uzvarējusi - viņa zaudētu. Visu, kālab bija elpojusi.
Kāpēc viņa teica, ka ienīst? Jo mīlēja vairāk kā jebko citu uz pasaules un ārpus tās. Jā, tā parasti notiek.
Kāpēc viņš teica, ka mīl? Jo vēlējās apmānīt. Jo vēlējās pats tam noticēt. Vai varbūt tāpēc, ka tā tiešām bija? Nā.
| | From: | simri |
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| Date: | March 9th, 2008 - 01:10 am |
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Glad you do. It's important. |
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Sviesta Ciba |
