wherever I am, you'll always be
There will be more times like this one. Times where the day turns to night and all your demons come out to haunt you, or times where you find it hard to wake up. And it's so hard to pick up the bits and pieces of your shattered self... to go on living fast and dying slow. That's all you can do, because what else really is there? What will be left of your legend if you relent, if you bend to the pressure and, daresay, give up?
Will there even be a legend to tell? Or will your name and your face fade into the feeble, beating hearts of those cherished souls that miss you when you've gone.
There is a kind of peace in that, one that can't be had if your name will never fade into oblivion because of some wild, heroic act you committed - or some bold, brave discovery - or maybe even some terrible, cruel atrocity. Henry didn't know what kind of name his would be, how his legend would end - but he did know one thing.
Where it began.
So when he could feel Aisha trembling beneath him, he looked down at her with much different eyes than the crushed, crushing blues of moments before. A renewed strength flamed and beckoned in their depths, a fire he could share with her - as a friend, as a student, as an attuned, as the man that he was.
He'd follow her wherever she wanted to lead him, down into the swallowing shadows if she so wished. He'd take her hand in his and that would leave him with an irreplaceable peace.
Will there even be a legend to tell? Or will your name and your face fade into the feeble, beating hearts of those cherished souls that miss you when you've gone.
There is a kind of peace in that, one that can't be had if your name will never fade into oblivion because of some wild, heroic act you committed - or some bold, brave discovery - or maybe even some terrible, cruel atrocity. Henry didn't know what kind of name his would be, how his legend would end - but he did know one thing.
Where it began.
So when he could feel Aisha trembling beneath him, he looked down at her with much different eyes than the crushed, crushing blues of moments before. A renewed strength flamed and beckoned in their depths, a fire he could share with her - as a friend, as a student, as an attuned, as the man that he was.
He'd follow her wherever she wanted to lead him, down into the swallowing shadows if she so wished. He'd take her hand in his and that would leave him with an irreplaceable peace.
more than just a memory
HENRY
