Post by Samson on Mar 30, 2018 17:07:17 GMT -6
[attr="class","base"]

[attr="class","post"] Another great big fucking disappointment.
What had he expected to find? A part of him had hoped, he supposed, to find a purpose; a grand welcome party for finding the place he was supposed to be, the place he would thrive. Instead, he found three wolves playing at being gods, two of which had soon disappeared or died. Samson didn’t care which, all he cared about was that they’d left their territory unclaimed, so he felt no need to move on any time soon. This would be his base of operations for the time being; it suited him perfectly. His very soul felt balanced here in Xisyn, and Samael fell in line like an obedient pup.
A low, dark rumbling in his mind caused Samson to laugh aloud, until the two sounds were indistinguishable from one another, and he was no longer sure which was internal, and which was external. “Hush,” he murmured, more tender than cutting, as though he were humming a child to sleep. Samael acquiesced. The spirit seemed relieved at not being in control all the time. Without Samson to hold him in place from time to time like an etherised patient, their brain was too chaotic to function. They both needed this – some peace. Some logic.
Yes, Sethos was a disappointment. But, who had not disappointed him? Everyone he thought had loved him had left. Everyone he thought had needed him had moved on perfectly fine. Wolves passed like ghosts through his life. Or perhaps he was the ghost, doomed to observe and never to participate, never to inhabit matter. Never to matter.
What’s your secret? Samael had plenty of experience of being a ghost, of inhabiting matter without meaning anything. They were the same in that respect. Nobody that Samson knew had cared for Samael. Only Samson. As much as it scared him sometimes, he loved the spirit more than he had lived anyone or anything. More than his parents, more than his siblings, more than his pack. Samael was his soulmate.
Without fear of infamy, was the response, before the spirit shuffled back into whatever crevice of Samson’s mind he liked to hide in these days. The albino didn’t know what the words meant, but they were comforting nonetheless. They made him nod slowly, and then more assuredly. “Without fear of infamy,” he repeated, finding that his voice sounded more like Samael’s than it ever had. The words made sense once he said them allowed, processing them as if someone else had said them instead.
The sound, however, was followed by a deafening silence that made his ears ring. The world seemed to pause for a beat, as he turned his head to watch his own reflection in the oscillating river, before continuing. The shriek of a bird pulled him from his stupor and he imagined an enormous bald vulture swooping down and eating it in one gulp. Samson began to laugh at the image, his blood-stained teeth appearing in his reflection, bright pink eyes eclipsing into a crescent.
“What to do with the day, my friend?” Samson queried, his gaze focusing on the bright blue sky that floated high above his watery visage.
Word count: 529
Tags: Firefly
Notes: lots of inspo taken from the love song of j. alfred prufrock
[newclass=.post]position: relative; z-index: 200; opacity: 0; transition: all 1.5s ease; -webkit-transition: all 1.5s ease; -moz-transition: all 1.5s ease;[/newclass][newclass=.base:hover .post]opacity: .7;[/newclass][newclass=.post::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 8px;[/newclass][newclass=.post::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #3f394d;[/newclass]
What had he expected to find? A part of him had hoped, he supposed, to find a purpose; a grand welcome party for finding the place he was supposed to be, the place he would thrive. Instead, he found three wolves playing at being gods, two of which had soon disappeared or died. Samson didn’t care which, all he cared about was that they’d left their territory unclaimed, so he felt no need to move on any time soon. This would be his base of operations for the time being; it suited him perfectly. His very soul felt balanced here in Xisyn, and Samael fell in line like an obedient pup.
A low, dark rumbling in his mind caused Samson to laugh aloud, until the two sounds were indistinguishable from one another, and he was no longer sure which was internal, and which was external. “Hush,” he murmured, more tender than cutting, as though he were humming a child to sleep. Samael acquiesced. The spirit seemed relieved at not being in control all the time. Without Samson to hold him in place from time to time like an etherised patient, their brain was too chaotic to function. They both needed this – some peace. Some logic.
Yes, Sethos was a disappointment. But, who had not disappointed him? Everyone he thought had loved him had left. Everyone he thought had needed him had moved on perfectly fine. Wolves passed like ghosts through his life. Or perhaps he was the ghost, doomed to observe and never to participate, never to inhabit matter. Never to matter.
What’s your secret? Samael had plenty of experience of being a ghost, of inhabiting matter without meaning anything. They were the same in that respect. Nobody that Samson knew had cared for Samael. Only Samson. As much as it scared him sometimes, he loved the spirit more than he had lived anyone or anything. More than his parents, more than his siblings, more than his pack. Samael was his soulmate.
Without fear of infamy, was the response, before the spirit shuffled back into whatever crevice of Samson’s mind he liked to hide in these days. The albino didn’t know what the words meant, but they were comforting nonetheless. They made him nod slowly, and then more assuredly. “Without fear of infamy,” he repeated, finding that his voice sounded more like Samael’s than it ever had. The words made sense once he said them allowed, processing them as if someone else had said them instead.
The sound, however, was followed by a deafening silence that made his ears ring. The world seemed to pause for a beat, as he turned his head to watch his own reflection in the oscillating river, before continuing. The shriek of a bird pulled him from his stupor and he imagined an enormous bald vulture swooping down and eating it in one gulp. Samson began to laugh at the image, his blood-stained teeth appearing in his reflection, bright pink eyes eclipsing into a crescent.
“What to do with the day, my friend?” Samson queried, his gaze focusing on the bright blue sky that floated high above his watery visage.
Word count: 529
Tags: Firefly
Notes: lots of inspo taken from the love song of j. alfred prufrock
CODED BY EMERALD
[newclass=.post]position: relative; z-index: 200; opacity: 0; transition: all 1.5s ease; -webkit-transition: all 1.5s ease; -moz-transition: all 1.5s ease;[/newclass][newclass=.base:hover .post]opacity: .7;[/newclass][newclass=.post::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 8px;[/newclass][newclass=.post::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #3f394d;[/newclass]