There's no revolution with those words. As the Batter had thought, back when he tried to smile when speaking with Ren, those words alone would not save him. It may be tossing more fuel on the fire by thinking something like that, but it's true. In the end action always spoke louder then words.
And the Batter had nothing to show for himself aside from a single death and a child taking care of his fading life in his stead.
He watches Zacharie trace the box of their world and the openness of this island. No longer cramped but able to stretch as much as he saw fit. But then the noises started and the thoughts followed and it made him want to crawl back into that box. Become the puppet that was unfeeling and walked to where it was told to go.
He can't die. Half-true. Once the Batter is sent home, he is dead and gone. But here he can't. The Storyteller will just bring him back.
And he's been loved and has loved, once upon a time. And the Batter once loved the world dearly before he carved everything out. All that was left was a scared child in an adult's body.
The Batter hated it and and was pretty sure he hated himself.
But maybe he should try yet again. The Batter wasn't sure if he could completely stop the thoughts saying he needed to purify the world. He was purely made for it and shaking that wasn't going to be easy.
One foot hanging over the cliff to hell and a curiosity to see what would happen if he leaned forward. Maybe he didn't have to walk off the cliff at once but he could simply put his foot down for a little while.]
...okay. Okay.
[Try not to think of it as 'again'. Just the sun rising. Just another day.]
I do not understand love that well. But I will try it. Just to see what will happen.
no subject
There's no revolution with those words. As the Batter had thought, back when he tried to smile when speaking with Ren, those words alone would not save him. It may be tossing more fuel on the fire by thinking something like that, but it's true. In the end action always spoke louder then words.
And the Batter had nothing to show for himself aside from a single death and a child taking care of his fading life in his stead.
He watches Zacharie trace the box of their world and the openness of this island. No longer cramped but able to stretch as much as he saw fit. But then the noises started and the thoughts followed and it made him want to crawl back into that box. Become the puppet that was unfeeling and walked to where it was told to go.
He can't die. Half-true. Once the Batter is sent home, he is dead and gone. But here he can't. The Storyteller will just bring him back.
And he's been loved and has loved, once upon a time. And the Batter once loved the world dearly before he carved everything out. All that was left was a scared child in an adult's body.
The Batter hated it and and was pretty sure he hated himself.
But maybe he should try yet again. The Batter wasn't sure if he could completely stop the thoughts saying he needed to purify the world. He was purely made for it and shaking that wasn't going to be easy.
One foot hanging over the cliff to hell and a curiosity to see what would happen if he leaned forward. Maybe he didn't have to walk off the cliff at once but he could simply put his foot down for a little while.]
...okay. Okay.
[Try not to think of it as 'again'. Just the sun rising. Just another day.]
I do not understand love that well. But I will try it. Just to see what will happen.
[It's a start.]