remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
Live was in the press of his bones, in the wake of his muscles, in the narrowed focus of his eyes. Not for his ghosts, because he couldn’t do that anymore, no matter how many times their phantom forms tethered along the corners of his eyes. No matter how many times he’d heard them speak his name, in dreams, in nightmares, in reality. Because strength had to come from somewhere not burrowed, not buried, not harpooned and destroyed. And if he kept permitting the wounds to erode from within, he’d sooner perish all over again – down in the depths of self-loathing, of rampant, avid destruction, and with naught else to demolish, it’d only be himself time and time again.
The barracks weren’t quiet today – filled with the sounds of steel meeting steel, grating edges and sharpened knives; lively, in the acts of restoration, in revitalizing and reviving. He’d do the same, in every opportunity he could snag. Instead of rendering to more rounds though, he watched, he listened, and then struck at his own target today – the blade in his hand the vibrant tenacity he craved for the moment – an extension of his will, his might, and his unsung vehemence. It swung into the mobile dummy with brutal, menacing force, and he watched the effigy (he gave no name to the target, but the designated features clearly marked it as Jigano), volley and rattle back and forth. A strike into the chest corded and cut, slashed and tore, and then he caught it once more as it rallied towards him. But it lacked the satisfaction of true distinction; a damned shame in these hallowed halls of mercilessness.
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
