Vulpes Callida
Radio Bob Approved
- Joined
- Jul 19, 2022
- Messages
- 109
- Thread Author
- #1
[/MEDIA]
"There are emotions not even poetry can describe. Thoughts no words can name. There are resonating echoes in the dark, a dance of untold fire, a light on the windows to the forever unknown. Something greater than Life. Something greater than Death."
"That Something leads us. Yet to that, many are now blind to. I swore to fight for it, for -them-; as it goes: head bloody but unbowed. No matter how strait the gate. How charged with punishments the scroll. I am the master of my Fate. I am the captain of my Soul."
BALLADE OF DEAD ACTORS
"Ari, Ari... Ari!" there was the soft pull of fabric from the man's right forearm, at the hands of a well known young girl. He gazed at this, remaining frozen, much like time. Her scrying pair of blue eyes maintained the innocence and mellowness he well remembered. "Let's go and play! Please...?"
"You're with her too much. What about me?" an ever-so-slighty-older boy added, grabbing the opposite forearm, almost as if he were a mirror. "You spend too much time studying these days..." the kid's brown eyes held that jealousy-littered glint of love he was all too familiar with.
He looked around. Home. The living room he so dearly missed, the couch and dinner table, the picture frames on the wall. A dimming but warm orange light sunk through the windows. The voice of the woman who raised him audible across the hall, "Ari Laukkanen! With two K's...!" she added authoritarianly, but in a tender tone. "Be a good brother, go outside with them for a bit, instead of dallying there. Dinner's not yet done... Did you prepare for your tests today?" There was no reply, yet the command was received with cheer by the younglings, who released their grasp. "Yay!" they exclaimed. The woman spoke again. "We are blessed to have such a promising young man in the family. The world will be lucky to have you... And we are luckier. Maybe in three or four years you'll be in the 'big leagues' instead of out here...!" she sounded... Happy, caring.
However, a shadow of a hand waved him closer, by the fireplace. Sat on his usual brown leather seat was the equally thin man who veiled for him, at least before time would steal him away. Moving closer, the man spoke, removing his spectacles as he examined him, up and down. His tone was stern, yet calm. "You take your responsibilities too seriously, Ari. Even if you know what you want to do, you need to be yourself. Not who we want you to be. There is so much more than that. Ignore your mother for once; you should only listen to your heart." he patted the armrest in a beckoning motion, a bible rested open on his lap, its yellowed yet well kempt pages shining softly under the light of the dancing fire. The crackling, all-beckoning. "Sit here... Ari Laukkanen, with two K's." he smiled softly at the echoed remark. "Relax with me for a bit. I won't bother you."
"...Thank you." he uttered, almost accidentally, in reply. It was only met with equally familiar words by the wise man:
"Don't ever thank someone for something they want to do."
Into the night go one and all.
The scene changed, almost as if a million images flashed in front of him. The farmstead, the caring for the animals, and the crops, with his mother. The winters, the half frozen lake, fishing there with his father. The sprawls of field and pine forests, the beautiful, distant mountains. The fauna. The nearby river, his siblings playing in it with him. The escapades to the neighbour's, school. It was impossible to discern each and every single memory, but they felt... Comfortable. Time moved forth, the picture painted shifting. He soon found the imagery dying down, but perhaps, the changes were not the ones he'd wished for.
He was in the same place, but... Everything was darker. Worn. Aged. The ambience felt... Unwelcoming. There were suitcases by his feet, and he was in a grey suit fairly unlike the rest of the otherwise rural environment. The leather chair had been replaced by a wheelchair containing the same man as before, facing an unlit fireplace. Yet... He seemed... Lost. Like he wasn't there, eyes trained to nowhere. Unconsolable sobbing came from the same hallway from where his mother's voice, as well as the hushing voices of his siblings trying to console her.
He reached out a hand as is to innately place it on the man's shoulder. Finally, it seems as if he noticed his presence, but the reaction was violent. A hand swatted his away in a shaky, unrefined motion, like the man's motor functions were long lost, speaking in a crackly tone.
"Who are you?! What are you doin' in my house! Leave... Leave! Police..." he screamed, louder and louder. "Police...!"
"Just leave already, Ari! You're making it worse again! Stop...!" his sister claimed, beggingly, all the way from the kitchen. His brother complimented the thought.
"Yeah. Leave us. Go ' be better for the people'. 'Do what you have to do'..." his tone was mocking, but also hurt. "And don't come back."
His mother's tears from the distance intensified, clearly in response to the negativity sprawled by his own kin. With it, his heartbeat became the only audible thing besides the demented man's continued cries of help. A barrage of feelings overcome him. How did the picture change so much in so little?
Into the night go one and all.
His eyes were flashed with memories again. The gates of the University of Medicine of Helsinki. His first love. The nights. The stress, the hard work. The unreplied messages. The unanswered calls. And then, the news announcing horrible happenings all across the world. Curfews, rendering him unable to head back to who he lvoed. The silence in the master classrooms. The books, the knowledge. The sickness. The necessity to do more, to become more, intensifying. Thoughts of his home long gone. A flame within burning in stark contrast with the words from one of his teachers rang to him during, a vivid image of his father and his decay showing:
"Medicine is like the brakes on a car whose engine is dead, and is headed downhill, toward a cliff. We only delay the inevitable. If we try to steer the car out of the way, we might collide with another."
He had to do more. Surely, he could do more, right? Noone was beyond salvation. He would be what he swore to be. A guardian angel.
The echoes stopped once again, the headache only worsening. He found himself in the fields of his farmstead, on a rainy, windy night. Thunder roared across the nothingness of the valley. Ahead lied his father's truck, but, looking around him, he wasn't there with him. The thought hit almost as hard as the wind was blowing, the temperature so low the ground below became an amalgamation of mud and watery snow. Perhaps not everything could be saved. Perhaps he had already failed.
He was helping his mother walk, her coughing heavily, whereas his two siblings, now fairly more grown, carried many suitcases toward the vehicle. All of them shielding their faces from the newfound violence of nature. His eyes caught the glint of something in the sky; something alien, the low hum of its engines disturbing the rain itself, lamplights shining down from the monster-like creature.Fear in the atmosphere, the end of humanity cracking through the heavens.
"Ari... Will we be fine...?" the now grown girl asked, terrified.
He once more, replied without any control over it.
"I will keep you safe. I will be with you."
"...No more running."
Into the night go one and all.
It all went dark. Quiet. Silence, for once. He welcomed this silence. The pain somewhat lingered, almost as if he'd grown accustomed to it. His own words resonated within him. Just how many times had he to swallow his own words...?
But once more, the barrage of recollections invaded him again. The following sequences flashed faster than the last, almost psychotically, demanding of his attention. Blurry. An eternal reminder of all he did, and didn't do. The city of Turku, the establishing of a regime. A house-apartment, with his remaining family in it. Him, in blue overalls, working in the emptying of a major state library. As the rest burned the books within it, he seemed to sneak them out. Read them, study them. Scavenge what little was going to be left from humanity. Hard times, and harder measures. Hunger. Him, doing what he promised to do, for once, but for how long?
"...Ari... Are we gonna make it...?" his sister asked.
A small clinic-like rundown house appeared. Him in it, in white overalls, the earliest logo of the Medical Union hanging by the door alongside with the numbers '62'. Endless hours, nights in the wards. Faces of colleagues, acquaintances, ever so close yet so distant. The misery in the streets outside. The batons, the arrests. The treatments, on and off record. He appeared amidst the beeping noises of the many monitors of a surgery ward:
"Ari... Is the patient going to make it?" a womanly voice of a close colleague asked.
He saw how his overalls were suddenly replaced by a suit and tie. An office. A flag of the Combine behind, alongside that of Finland. How his suit and tie were replaced by yelling. Paperwork, bureaucracy, obstacles. The colleague becoming his own enemy. Heartbreak. Men in suits, questioning of his ways with those less favoured. Trouble. Batons. The illness of his mother... And her slow, painful, non-chalant decline in health, the coughing worsening. The fevers rising.
"Ari... Is... Is mother gonna make it...?" his brother asked.
It was like a nightmare. He knew where it was going. Soon the yelling was replaced by a bottle of alcohol. The wandering of the streets after he was removed from the position he tried to custode. Crossed a line he should not have, his life alone enough of a gift to walk out with. The worry and anger of his siblings. A sudden realization, of what he had been doing, and the people suffering because of it. His decay. Frustration. Loss. The distance. Screams. Profound regret. A fading soul. A crumbling world.
"Ari... Please..." She coughed weakly. "...Make sure, you make it." his mother affirmed, as her soul was relinquished from the mortal coil on his arms. He hugged her, tears and screams of desperation filling all this nightmare was showing him.
Into the night go one and all.
Time passed, and the same people who took away what he had shoved into a train by force, amidst kicks and screams, destination, unknown. An angsty goodbye, as what was left of his family fought to hold his hand one last time. Even the colleague who he thought had given up of him. A train of thoughts, of faces he would likely never see again, of people who needed him being left to their own. Of his own perceived failure, the tracks slowly moving him away from all he ever desired, how he was straying from the path he wished to remain in. Both physically, and metaphorically.
He finally broke free from the torturous strain of quickly-flashing recollections that had taken his mind for much longer than ever before. He 'woke up' in a bunk-bed, the nightmare, unbeknownst to him, not yet over. As he sat up, he found himself on overalls he never thought he'd see himself in. Dark like many a thought. Looking at his hands, gloved. A white mask laid at the foot of the bed, by his duty boots. On a nearby chair, a belt with a holster, a baton and what seemed like a squared electronic device, as well as a radio transceiver. Just how long had it been...?
Many feelings overcame him, and none of them good. He couldn't bring himself to make sense of the happenings anymore. Why was he here? What was he doing?
A broadcast could be heard above him, outside. The city of Geneva saw its earliest reminder of how the rule of the Empire that hadboth broken and saved Earth was ever so vigilant, so present. And he, as well, was promptly reminded of he was collaborating with what he wanted to fight against. The termination of the Soul, of Faith. Of Humanity. Again, he asked himself. Why was he here? What was he doing?
His fists tightened in anger. He had seen, in these few days, more flames extinguish than in his dire times up back by his family; he had even been forced to do so himself. Was he now a murderer? What would his family think of him? What would his newfound friends think, if he kept doing down this road...?
Into the night go one and all.
But... Does it have to be like that?
There appear a few words that welcomed him into pseudo-consciousness, almost as ingrained in his brain. He grabbed the white mask, looking at himself on the faint reflection emitted from the plastic lenses thanks to the light above. His eyes had been opened in many a way, but slowly, the pieces of the puzzles were starting to fit together. In the optics he could see a man consumed by the lack of sleep, the excess of work, the emotional strain. The sight concerned him, but he saw past his physical self. Inside, a flame burned somewhat brighter than it ever had before. Visions of his parents, one of each of the two items.
"Fight for others." came in her mother's sweetening tone.
"Fight for yourself." came in his father's wiseful voice.
He shook his head, and the images in the mask were replaced by that of ones his siblings, his friends, in his mind. Of the people that needed him. He eventually put it down, closing his eyes momentarily to focus on this. Perhaps he hadn't been that mistaken. Perhaps all of the pain had been necessary to understand. Perhaps it was time.
Time...
His sight eventually dragged down to his wristwatch, some initials engraved on it. A perpetual reminder of that initial picture he just dreamt of reattaining, and all of the happenings that had dilluted it, deformed it, but never enough to forget it. How under the bludgeonings of chance, his head was bloody, but unbowed. And, how despite the volatility of his own time, the menace of the years finds and shall find him unafraid. He spoke to himself, in his own language.
"Ari Laukkanen. With two K's."
"Maybe you're just fighting the wrong things for the right reasons."
"After all. Into the night go one and all."
"But... maybe they don't have to go alone."
"You're with her too much. What about me?" an ever-so-slighty-older boy added, grabbing the opposite forearm, almost as if he were a mirror. "You spend too much time studying these days..." the kid's brown eyes held that jealousy-littered glint of love he was all too familiar with.
He looked around. Home. The living room he so dearly missed, the couch and dinner table, the picture frames on the wall. A dimming but warm orange light sunk through the windows. The voice of the woman who raised him audible across the hall, "Ari Laukkanen! With two K's...!" she added authoritarianly, but in a tender tone. "Be a good brother, go outside with them for a bit, instead of dallying there. Dinner's not yet done... Did you prepare for your tests today?" There was no reply, yet the command was received with cheer by the younglings, who released their grasp. "Yay!" they exclaimed. The woman spoke again. "We are blessed to have such a promising young man in the family. The world will be lucky to have you... And we are luckier. Maybe in three or four years you'll be in the 'big leagues' instead of out here...!" she sounded... Happy, caring.
However, a shadow of a hand waved him closer, by the fireplace. Sat on his usual brown leather seat was the equally thin man who veiled for him, at least before time would steal him away. Moving closer, the man spoke, removing his spectacles as he examined him, up and down. His tone was stern, yet calm. "You take your responsibilities too seriously, Ari. Even if you know what you want to do, you need to be yourself. Not who we want you to be. There is so much more than that. Ignore your mother for once; you should only listen to your heart." he patted the armrest in a beckoning motion, a bible rested open on his lap, its yellowed yet well kempt pages shining softly under the light of the dancing fire. The crackling, all-beckoning. "Sit here... Ari Laukkanen, with two K's." he smiled softly at the echoed remark. "Relax with me for a bit. I won't bother you."
"...Thank you." he uttered, almost accidentally, in reply. It was only met with equally familiar words by the wise man:
"Don't ever thank someone for something they want to do."
Into the night go one and all.
The scene changed, almost as if a million images flashed in front of him. The farmstead, the caring for the animals, and the crops, with his mother. The winters, the half frozen lake, fishing there with his father. The sprawls of field and pine forests, the beautiful, distant mountains. The fauna. The nearby river, his siblings playing in it with him. The escapades to the neighbour's, school. It was impossible to discern each and every single memory, but they felt... Comfortable. Time moved forth, the picture painted shifting. He soon found the imagery dying down, but perhaps, the changes were not the ones he'd wished for.
He was in the same place, but... Everything was darker. Worn. Aged. The ambience felt... Unwelcoming. There were suitcases by his feet, and he was in a grey suit fairly unlike the rest of the otherwise rural environment. The leather chair had been replaced by a wheelchair containing the same man as before, facing an unlit fireplace. Yet... He seemed... Lost. Like he wasn't there, eyes trained to nowhere. Unconsolable sobbing came from the same hallway from where his mother's voice, as well as the hushing voices of his siblings trying to console her.
He reached out a hand as is to innately place it on the man's shoulder. Finally, it seems as if he noticed his presence, but the reaction was violent. A hand swatted his away in a shaky, unrefined motion, like the man's motor functions were long lost, speaking in a crackly tone.
"Who are you?! What are you doin' in my house! Leave... Leave! Police..." he screamed, louder and louder. "Police...!"
"Just leave already, Ari! You're making it worse again! Stop...!" his sister claimed, beggingly, all the way from the kitchen. His brother complimented the thought.
"Yeah. Leave us. Go ' be better for the people'. 'Do what you have to do'..." his tone was mocking, but also hurt. "And don't come back."
His mother's tears from the distance intensified, clearly in response to the negativity sprawled by his own kin. With it, his heartbeat became the only audible thing besides the demented man's continued cries of help. A barrage of feelings overcome him. How did the picture change so much in so little?
Into the night go one and all.
His eyes were flashed with memories again. The gates of the University of Medicine of Helsinki. His first love. The nights. The stress, the hard work. The unreplied messages. The unanswered calls. And then, the news announcing horrible happenings all across the world. Curfews, rendering him unable to head back to who he lvoed. The silence in the master classrooms. The books, the knowledge. The sickness. The necessity to do more, to become more, intensifying. Thoughts of his home long gone. A flame within burning in stark contrast with the words from one of his teachers rang to him during, a vivid image of his father and his decay showing:
"Medicine is like the brakes on a car whose engine is dead, and is headed downhill, toward a cliff. We only delay the inevitable. If we try to steer the car out of the way, we might collide with another."
He had to do more. Surely, he could do more, right? Noone was beyond salvation. He would be what he swore to be. A guardian angel.
The echoes stopped once again, the headache only worsening. He found himself in the fields of his farmstead, on a rainy, windy night. Thunder roared across the nothingness of the valley. Ahead lied his father's truck, but, looking around him, he wasn't there with him. The thought hit almost as hard as the wind was blowing, the temperature so low the ground below became an amalgamation of mud and watery snow. Perhaps not everything could be saved. Perhaps he had already failed.
He was helping his mother walk, her coughing heavily, whereas his two siblings, now fairly more grown, carried many suitcases toward the vehicle. All of them shielding their faces from the newfound violence of nature. His eyes caught the glint of something in the sky; something alien, the low hum of its engines disturbing the rain itself, lamplights shining down from the monster-like creature.Fear in the atmosphere, the end of humanity cracking through the heavens.
"Ari... Will we be fine...?" the now grown girl asked, terrified.
He once more, replied without any control over it.
"I will keep you safe. I will be with you."
"...No more running."
Into the night go one and all.
It all went dark. Quiet. Silence, for once. He welcomed this silence. The pain somewhat lingered, almost as if he'd grown accustomed to it. His own words resonated within him. Just how many times had he to swallow his own words...?
But once more, the barrage of recollections invaded him again. The following sequences flashed faster than the last, almost psychotically, demanding of his attention. Blurry. An eternal reminder of all he did, and didn't do. The city of Turku, the establishing of a regime. A house-apartment, with his remaining family in it. Him, in blue overalls, working in the emptying of a major state library. As the rest burned the books within it, he seemed to sneak them out. Read them, study them. Scavenge what little was going to be left from humanity. Hard times, and harder measures. Hunger. Him, doing what he promised to do, for once, but for how long?
"...Ari... Are we gonna make it...?" his sister asked.
A small clinic-like rundown house appeared. Him in it, in white overalls, the earliest logo of the Medical Union hanging by the door alongside with the numbers '62'. Endless hours, nights in the wards. Faces of colleagues, acquaintances, ever so close yet so distant. The misery in the streets outside. The batons, the arrests. The treatments, on and off record. He appeared amidst the beeping noises of the many monitors of a surgery ward:
"Ari... Is the patient going to make it?" a womanly voice of a close colleague asked.
He saw how his overalls were suddenly replaced by a suit and tie. An office. A flag of the Combine behind, alongside that of Finland. How his suit and tie were replaced by yelling. Paperwork, bureaucracy, obstacles. The colleague becoming his own enemy. Heartbreak. Men in suits, questioning of his ways with those less favoured. Trouble. Batons. The illness of his mother... And her slow, painful, non-chalant decline in health, the coughing worsening. The fevers rising.
"Ari... Is... Is mother gonna make it...?" his brother asked.
It was like a nightmare. He knew where it was going. Soon the yelling was replaced by a bottle of alcohol. The wandering of the streets after he was removed from the position he tried to custode. Crossed a line he should not have, his life alone enough of a gift to walk out with. The worry and anger of his siblings. A sudden realization, of what he had been doing, and the people suffering because of it. His decay. Frustration. Loss. The distance. Screams. Profound regret. A fading soul. A crumbling world.
"Ari... Please..." She coughed weakly. "...Make sure, you make it." his mother affirmed, as her soul was relinquished from the mortal coil on his arms. He hugged her, tears and screams of desperation filling all this nightmare was showing him.
Into the night go one and all.
Time passed, and the same people who took away what he had shoved into a train by force, amidst kicks and screams, destination, unknown. An angsty goodbye, as what was left of his family fought to hold his hand one last time. Even the colleague who he thought had given up of him. A train of thoughts, of faces he would likely never see again, of people who needed him being left to their own. Of his own perceived failure, the tracks slowly moving him away from all he ever desired, how he was straying from the path he wished to remain in. Both physically, and metaphorically.
He finally broke free from the torturous strain of quickly-flashing recollections that had taken his mind for much longer than ever before. He 'woke up' in a bunk-bed, the nightmare, unbeknownst to him, not yet over. As he sat up, he found himself on overalls he never thought he'd see himself in. Dark like many a thought. Looking at his hands, gloved. A white mask laid at the foot of the bed, by his duty boots. On a nearby chair, a belt with a holster, a baton and what seemed like a squared electronic device, as well as a radio transceiver. Just how long had it been...?
Many feelings overcame him, and none of them good. He couldn't bring himself to make sense of the happenings anymore. Why was he here? What was he doing?
A broadcast could be heard above him, outside. The city of Geneva saw its earliest reminder of how the rule of the Empire that hadboth broken and saved Earth was ever so vigilant, so present. And he, as well, was promptly reminded of he was collaborating with what he wanted to fight against. The termination of the Soul, of Faith. Of Humanity. Again, he asked himself. Why was he here? What was he doing?
His fists tightened in anger. He had seen, in these few days, more flames extinguish than in his dire times up back by his family; he had even been forced to do so himself. Was he now a murderer? What would his family think of him? What would his newfound friends think, if he kept doing down this road...?
Into the night go one and all.
But... Does it have to be like that?
There appear a few words that welcomed him into pseudo-consciousness, almost as ingrained in his brain. He grabbed the white mask, looking at himself on the faint reflection emitted from the plastic lenses thanks to the light above. His eyes had been opened in many a way, but slowly, the pieces of the puzzles were starting to fit together. In the optics he could see a man consumed by the lack of sleep, the excess of work, the emotional strain. The sight concerned him, but he saw past his physical self. Inside, a flame burned somewhat brighter than it ever had before. Visions of his parents, one of each of the two items.
"Fight for others." came in her mother's sweetening tone.
"Fight for yourself." came in his father's wiseful voice.
He shook his head, and the images in the mask were replaced by that of ones his siblings, his friends, in his mind. Of the people that needed him. He eventually put it down, closing his eyes momentarily to focus on this. Perhaps he hadn't been that mistaken. Perhaps all of the pain had been necessary to understand. Perhaps it was time.
Time...
His sight eventually dragged down to his wristwatch, some initials engraved on it. A perpetual reminder of that initial picture he just dreamt of reattaining, and all of the happenings that had dilluted it, deformed it, but never enough to forget it. How under the bludgeonings of chance, his head was bloody, but unbowed. And, how despite the volatility of his own time, the menace of the years finds and shall find him unafraid. He spoke to himself, in his own language.
"Ari Laukkanen. With two K's."
"Maybe you're just fighting the wrong things for the right reasons."
"After all. Into the night go one and all."
"But... maybe they don't have to go alone."
ENTER PATIENT
HOUSE-SURGEON
THE SHADOW OF DAWN
THE CHIEF
11/09/18
A brittle soul, the cracks on it widening as Fortune time and time again abandons it. You are blind to just how much good you have done, and you can still do. Weren't it for you I'd still be wandering the street alone. But seeing you like this brings me unimaginable pain. My brother, not everything is lost. But I pray, please, make sure that what you do not lose is yourself. There is not much to be said that you do not already know; it matters not how Destiny shapes you nor where Fate leads you, I will always be by your side.
THE HOPE
11/09/18
A Light Shining in Darkness. A smile to change the tides, often shrouded in a veil of self-flagellation. There are no words to describe the warmth in your heart, and the glint in your eyes. Like a twin soul, you make mine whole; if only I knew how to let you know. Despite the hardships that haunt you, there is no doubt in my mind yours will be fine. And I will be there, next to you, no matter what, like you have for me. Take my hand, as for there is a place waiting for us, and the Lord knows I will not let go of you.
THE SHACKLED
11/09/18
Brother of the Fatherland, mirror soul. Lost and Found, Ying and Yang, or so many believe. I do not. My father used to say that those who tell a story once it is for it to be shared, twice it is for it to be heard, thrice it is to bring oneself to believe it. Every time you preach I can see behind it; I can see the real you, torn and teary, forced to a reality he does not wish to partake in. A slave to the stranger in his mind, locked in a cage, key thrown away. But I will be there for the real you. Fate or not, I promise. Oli kiva nähdä.
THE SELFLESS
11/09/18
My friend. Breton brother. A soul so pure it is hard not to squint at its brightness; perhaps the only other in this Earth that knows what must be done, and its cost. There is no greater example of what humanity is: a humble heart who beats for those whoses it doesn't. A flame in a cold night. An unspoken example, determined to do what he must. Always there. Always willing. Standing on your side alone is an honour. No words will ever tell the relief of knowing you are alright. Let us do as we do, until our last breath.
THE BROKEN
11/09/18
The Girl with no Name. A shattering soul believing to be the shadow of her sister. Looming ever so eerily close to the Void with every passing minute. Someone who values oneself so little it hurts to witness their own blindness. Not only are you not alone, but you are much stronger than you think. Many a time I have found myself admiring your deeds. I will step on the lands of Hell need be, if it is what it takes to make you see what great a person you are. You stood by my side at my time of need; let me do the same for you.
THE DAMNED
11/09/18
The Queen of Hearts, a haunting title; unable to escape what once hurt her. Fate enslaved her to the same mistakes, but Lord willing, I will have her hurt no longer. A soul of noble descent who embarked in the depths of Hell to desperately chase what she sought. Witness to many a tear, be it tinted scarlet or not. Seen both sides of the coin, known more than I can remember. I pray you listen to me as much as I listen to you, as for darker times awaiten, but I won't let you face them alone. You have had enough of your sorrow.
THE SPIRITED
11/09/18
A jovial smile, and a gentle laugh, and a blind eye. That is what most see, but not what is underneath. I may be the only one that knows of your cruel fate. Even in the most dire of moments you staid a beacon of positivity, willing to risk it all for those who suffered a fate similar to you. I am sorry it is how it was, I am sorry I could not do more than be there for you. I cherished our strolls together, our talks, even our time outside the city walls. There isn't much I can say to you that you don't know: except, I will miss you dearly.
Lepää rauhassa.
THE BURDENED
11/09/18
A woman who once crowned me knight, whose heart once believed she had the strength to carry the world on her shoulders. Now she lies witness as it feels her spirit come crashing down under the choices and sacrifices made, tearing at her very core. A mirror of the past that has yet a lot to see and learn; but time grows short at her carelessness. You have stood by me, and I will stand by you, but, know that no matter how much I want to be there for you, it is you that much change. I don't want to lose a good friend. Lord help us.
THE LAZARUS
11/09/18
A man who had lost everything, and all reason to live. Threatened by the worst of diseases, tainted by the worst of vices. Not so much a man, but a husk for many. Yet hope is the last thing that is lost. I had always known there resided you. For all of your flaws and shortocomings, I knew you would find the strength to show yourself, when you were most needed. It is not all over yet. Progress might slow, many things may linger, but the gift of Life has been bestowed on you again, in every sense. And I will help you keep it.
THE SCARED
11/09/18
A hurting heart, its time in this world shortened. Abused by both emotions and substances. Frightened by the future. Many see you as a nuisance. But truth is, under the surface lies a vulnerable but warm soul, which only wishes for the sweet moments it has longed for in a lifetime and has never gotten. Perhaps our hours together are narrowed, perhaps fighting the inevitable is a fool's journey. But I promise you, before either of us leaves this Earth, I will have you smile like you have wanted for so long, even if for a second.
THE PENITENT
11/09/18
A victim of something looming over him. A prototype for those who send us to our deaths. A conflicted valiant soul fighting against the cruelties of the mind imposed by both machine and uniform. I have done more than I will ever be able to tell you, and I fear it might not be enough. But despite the shortcomings, I hope you are able to resist. I hope you can keep being yourself. The past is something we must remember if we wish to retain what defines us. Stay strong. You might not know it, but I will be there for you.
THE LOST
11/09/18
Not many can say have wandered the divide between life and death as vividly as you did. But it is said that many do not like what they see in it. One singular look is all it took me to know you are silently fighting something you cannot control. No matter how much you try, you will never be able to escape it. Because you and I both know you don't want to. It's you. You have strayed from the path but you are never too far to go back. Listen to our voice. Come back to those who need you. ...To those who are waiting for you.
THE RESENTFUL
11/09/18
There is little more painful than the injust loss of someone you love, and knowing your actions are shackled to the only other you have. The fear of forgetting, too. For all our time together in the field and in the bay, I only wish you'd let me know more of you. While I do not share the vindiction, I don't think we are too different. And in times like these we must stand together. I am glad I can stand by you. The change I spoke of starts with us. So never forget why we are here. Never forget her. Because she needs you.
THE ORTHODOX
11/09/18
A man of gentle soul and methodic focus. A self proclaimed Rasputin, the heart of which has seen more pain than most. Despite this, it manages to remain one of the most human. There are very few of us left. You need to be careful, as there is still much that needs to be done. One of these days we will find the time to talk. I think we have more in common than we care to admit, and yet, we've hardly discussed anything personal. There is peace in knowing people like you exist. And there is respect in every step you take.
THE THOMAS
11/09/18
A self-titled 'narc', blind only to the horrors that do not include him as the victim. You are like a window to the past, to a time where only I mattered, yet no-one hated me more than myself. To this date I am yet unsure if it is naivity or wilful disconnect from the world when it comes to you; God knows she tried to correct you to no avail. A selfish burning man that refuses to put himself out, or to believe anything he does not already. I do not feel anger toward you, only pity. But I am honest when I say I hope you find peace.
THE SILENT
11/09/18
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THE LENIENT
11/09/18
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THE RESOLUTE
11/09/18
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THE CARELESS
11/09/18
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THE CAREFREE
11/09/18
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THE DEVOTED
11/09/18
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THE DEVOTEE
11/09/18
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THE FALLEN
11/09/18
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THE BLIND
11/09/18
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THE EYE
11/09/18
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THE DREAMER
11/09/18
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THE ECHO
11/09/18
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THE INNOCENT
11/09/18
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THE HEEDLESS
11/09/18
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THE NOTEKEEPER
11/09/18
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THE JUDAS
11/09/18
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THE DRIFTER
11/09/18
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THE NEWBLOOD
11/09/18
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THE DEDICATED
11/09/18
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THE TIMEMAKER
11/09/18
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THE WEASEL
11/09/18
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11/09/18
A brittle soul, the cracks on it widening as Fortune time and time again abandons it. You are blind to just how much good you have done, and you can still do. Weren't it for you I'd still be wandering the street alone. But seeing you like this brings me unimaginable pain. My brother, not everything is lost. But I pray, please, make sure that what you do not lose is yourself. There is not much to be said that you do not already know; it matters not how Destiny shapes you nor where Fate leads you, I will always be by your side.
THE HOPE
11/09/18
A Light Shining in Darkness. A smile to change the tides, often shrouded in a veil of self-flagellation. There are no words to describe the warmth in your heart, and the glint in your eyes. Like a twin soul, you make mine whole; if only I knew how to let you know. Despite the hardships that haunt you, there is no doubt in my mind yours will be fine. And I will be there, next to you, no matter what, like you have for me. Take my hand, as for there is a place waiting for us, and the Lord knows I will not let go of you.
THE SHACKLED
11/09/18
Brother of the Fatherland, mirror soul. Lost and Found, Ying and Yang, or so many believe. I do not. My father used to say that those who tell a story once it is for it to be shared, twice it is for it to be heard, thrice it is to bring oneself to believe it. Every time you preach I can see behind it; I can see the real you, torn and teary, forced to a reality he does not wish to partake in. A slave to the stranger in his mind, locked in a cage, key thrown away. But I will be there for the real you. Fate or not, I promise. Oli kiva nähdä.
THE SELFLESS
11/09/18
My friend. Breton brother. A soul so pure it is hard not to squint at its brightness; perhaps the only other in this Earth that knows what must be done, and its cost. There is no greater example of what humanity is: a humble heart who beats for those whoses it doesn't. A flame in a cold night. An unspoken example, determined to do what he must. Always there. Always willing. Standing on your side alone is an honour. No words will ever tell the relief of knowing you are alright. Let us do as we do, until our last breath.
THE BROKEN
11/09/18
The Girl with no Name. A shattering soul believing to be the shadow of her sister. Looming ever so eerily close to the Void with every passing minute. Someone who values oneself so little it hurts to witness their own blindness. Not only are you not alone, but you are much stronger than you think. Many a time I have found myself admiring your deeds. I will step on the lands of Hell need be, if it is what it takes to make you see what great a person you are. You stood by my side at my time of need; let me do the same for you.
THE DAMNED
11/09/18
The Queen of Hearts, a haunting title; unable to escape what once hurt her. Fate enslaved her to the same mistakes, but Lord willing, I will have her hurt no longer. A soul of noble descent who embarked in the depths of Hell to desperately chase what she sought. Witness to many a tear, be it tinted scarlet or not. Seen both sides of the coin, known more than I can remember. I pray you listen to me as much as I listen to you, as for darker times awaiten, but I won't let you face them alone. You have had enough of your sorrow.
THE SPIRITED
11/09/18
A jovial smile, and a gentle laugh, and a blind eye. That is what most see, but not what is underneath. I may be the only one that knows of your cruel fate. Even in the most dire of moments you staid a beacon of positivity, willing to risk it all for those who suffered a fate similar to you. I am sorry it is how it was, I am sorry I could not do more than be there for you. I cherished our strolls together, our talks, even our time outside the city walls. There isn't much I can say to you that you don't know: except, I will miss you dearly.
Lepää rauhassa.
THE BURDENED
11/09/18
A woman who once crowned me knight, whose heart once believed she had the strength to carry the world on her shoulders. Now she lies witness as it feels her spirit come crashing down under the choices and sacrifices made, tearing at her very core. A mirror of the past that has yet a lot to see and learn; but time grows short at her carelessness. You have stood by me, and I will stand by you, but, know that no matter how much I want to be there for you, it is you that much change. I don't want to lose a good friend. Lord help us.
THE LAZARUS
11/09/18
A man who had lost everything, and all reason to live. Threatened by the worst of diseases, tainted by the worst of vices. Not so much a man, but a husk for many. Yet hope is the last thing that is lost. I had always known there resided you. For all of your flaws and shortocomings, I knew you would find the strength to show yourself, when you were most needed. It is not all over yet. Progress might slow, many things may linger, but the gift of Life has been bestowed on you again, in every sense. And I will help you keep it.
THE SCARED
11/09/18
A hurting heart, its time in this world shortened. Abused by both emotions and substances. Frightened by the future. Many see you as a nuisance. But truth is, under the surface lies a vulnerable but warm soul, which only wishes for the sweet moments it has longed for in a lifetime and has never gotten. Perhaps our hours together are narrowed, perhaps fighting the inevitable is a fool's journey. But I promise you, before either of us leaves this Earth, I will have you smile like you have wanted for so long, even if for a second.
THE PENITENT
11/09/18
A victim of something looming over him. A prototype for those who send us to our deaths. A conflicted valiant soul fighting against the cruelties of the mind imposed by both machine and uniform. I have done more than I will ever be able to tell you, and I fear it might not be enough. But despite the shortcomings, I hope you are able to resist. I hope you can keep being yourself. The past is something we must remember if we wish to retain what defines us. Stay strong. You might not know it, but I will be there for you.
THE LOST
11/09/18
Not many can say have wandered the divide between life and death as vividly as you did. But it is said that many do not like what they see in it. One singular look is all it took me to know you are silently fighting something you cannot control. No matter how much you try, you will never be able to escape it. Because you and I both know you don't want to. It's you. You have strayed from the path but you are never too far to go back. Listen to our voice. Come back to those who need you. ...To those who are waiting for you.
THE RESENTFUL
11/09/18
There is little more painful than the injust loss of someone you love, and knowing your actions are shackled to the only other you have. The fear of forgetting, too. For all our time together in the field and in the bay, I only wish you'd let me know more of you. While I do not share the vindiction, I don't think we are too different. And in times like these we must stand together. I am glad I can stand by you. The change I spoke of starts with us. So never forget why we are here. Never forget her. Because she needs you.
THE ORTHODOX
11/09/18
A man of gentle soul and methodic focus. A self proclaimed Rasputin, the heart of which has seen more pain than most. Despite this, it manages to remain one of the most human. There are very few of us left. You need to be careful, as there is still much that needs to be done. One of these days we will find the time to talk. I think we have more in common than we care to admit, and yet, we've hardly discussed anything personal. There is peace in knowing people like you exist. And there is respect in every step you take.
THE THOMAS
11/09/18
A self-titled 'narc', blind only to the horrors that do not include him as the victim. You are like a window to the past, to a time where only I mattered, yet no-one hated me more than myself. To this date I am yet unsure if it is naivity or wilful disconnect from the world when it comes to you; God knows she tried to correct you to no avail. A selfish burning man that refuses to put himself out, or to believe anything he does not already. I do not feel anger toward you, only pity. But I am honest when I say I hope you find peace.
THE SILENT
11/09/18
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THE LENIENT
11/09/18
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THE RESOLUTE
11/09/18
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THE CARELESS
11/09/18
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THE CAREFREE
11/09/18
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THE DEVOTED
11/09/18
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THE DEVOTEE
11/09/18
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THE FALLEN
11/09/18
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THE BLIND
11/09/18
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THE EYE
11/09/18
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THE DREAMER
11/09/18
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THE ECHO
11/09/18
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THE INNOCENT
11/09/18
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THE HEEDLESS
11/09/18
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THE NOTEKEEPER
11/09/18
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THE JUDAS
11/09/18
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THE DRIFTER
11/09/18
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THE NEWBLOOD
11/09/18
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THE DEDICATED
11/09/18
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THE TIMEMAKER
11/09/18
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THE WEASEL
11/09/18
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