Posted Apr 27 2012 - 11:32 PM
Her final stare was like one of those mannequins that you see in store windows, staring down at you, daring you to turn away, creating that one static electricity moment in your brain where you're sure that if you're turn away, you'll miss something, anything, and that moment will be gone and you'll have lost something that you'll never find again.I look away. She's gone. Boom.I'm lost in a brilliant sea of green as her final, punctuating stare pierces the depths of my ego, my heart, and burrows its way into the depths of my soul and plants itself there like a flower.No.A weed.There's that old saying, "It's not really her you miss. It's the idea of her."I'd like to call bullcark. All those feelings, those memories, those times you spent fighting side by side with her, you can't just flip a switch and bury them. Nor can you merely just forget about her. Trust me. I have tried and tried and tried.And now that final, sad stare is stabbing through me, and then there's the familiar, aching feeling of my body being jerked back into reality, as if I'd been hooked to an electric chair and the guy goes to throw the switch and then pulls his hand back, laughing, screaming "PSYCH!" at the top of his lungs.And I'm in my bed. And I still remember.Flashback one is a go.**********The very concept of a Toa Team is an abstract one. There will always be the inevitable clash of egos, the pointless bickering over stupid, mundane points that end up getting settled by rock, paper, scissors...And there's always that girl. That one girl who tries to keep the team together no matter what and acts like the sister figure for everyone.The anchor.And she was that girl. Looking back on that final conversation, that final job, I often began to wonder who exactly triggered the conversation, and when it was triggered in the first place. You know that final time you speak to a loved one, that final time you get to sit next to her in a classroom or walk next to her on a job? You know how you look back on that moment in the past and wonder, "What could I have said?"I do that all the time.She had a lot of uncertainty. A lot of worry. The conversation was littered with a huge amount of "What ifs?" and "How's?" and that's something I could understand even then and empathize with. It's a hard knock life, being a Toa. You're pretty much thrown into a job that, from the moment of inception, tells you how exactly you're going to live your life and how you're going to end up dying. The problem is that this society has given us a set path to live on, and if you screw up that path, it's gonna destroy your entire life. A failed Rahi kill here. An argument there. Boom. Life = blown.I do not believe that life is so linear that I am defined by such individual events.She told me that she wished this were it, that she wished this was the last job, that we could be together.Wishes are a freaking joke, man. Wishes are a waste of time. Wishes are for people who look back on their lives in their twilight while trying to futilely pause the moment, trying to grab that last ray of sunshine and rope the sneaky little prick back into their lives. Wishes are for people who will inevitably look back on their lives with a remarkable amount of regret because in that moment, in that one moment, they couldn't do what really needed to be done.I love you, I said to her. She loved me, too, she said back.I smiled.She smiled.And then the ambush. Not the metaphorical, moron Toa of Air that pops up and bludgeons the moment to death with his insolence and his ego. I'm talking bona fide, Rahi on all sides, we're gonna die in this hellhole ambush.And then the blackout.When I came to, I was standing inside of a pool of Rahi and Toa blood, and my teammates are all lying mutilated on all sides, and she's sitting there, propped into the weakest position imaginable, still breathing, and for a moment, my eyes decide they're gonna screw around with my brain and erase the giant tail wound that's ripped her abdomen open and torn her guts into a sick Chelsea grin.I bent down and held her in that final moment. What did I say? What could I say?Nothing. I just held her. Then I looked away.Boom. She was gone.Timeskip is a go.*******Anyway, I'm sitting in bed, still trying to figure out if this is all some sort of joke, some kind of sick, twisted game my mind's been playing on me all alone. I blink a couple times and stretch, and as I turn to see if she's beside me, I catch a glimpse of a small, ornate, cool blue shape on my right shoulder. My Mark. The Mark.It wasn't a dream, after all.I'm still Dorian Shaddix, psychopath extraordinaire and the butcher of thousands.And I'm still a failure.Hear me, my chiefs. I am tired. My heart is sick and sad.From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.*******This story was based off the past of one of my BZPRPG chars, Dorian, who's a really screwed up dude. I kind of wanted to give some background into his story, try and explain things from his point of view. This is my first real first person story, so feel free to call me out on my screwups!-TeezyNO NO NO NO.I accidentally double posted this topic. :cReporting to a staff member.-Teezy
Edited by Tyler Durden, Apr 27 2012 - 11:30 PM.
How long does barbecue sauce last in your fridge? A while.
That's the sauce, man. It sticks around.
It's thick. Hard to move.
I'm telling ya.