He doesn't notice Hayame's words, he barely hears Voryn's over the pounding rush of furious blood in his head. An escalation that leaves his fingers trembling in white fury, his eye β that eye β looking down at Voryn with hatred.
It burns. His fury. Weaker he calls it. Weaker than his? Does he even know what those took from him? Did anyone? They mocked him, called him weak, derided him, because they had worlds that would be kind to them, or purposes to go back to. Silco wants to wring Voryn's neck, and show him what a mockery it was to call him weak that his vengeance was nothing compared to his. Some Moon-and-star nonsense, a lover that would inevitably betray him, perhaps? A trusted friend? They were nothing. None of them were.
Couldn't they see that? Of course they couldn't, so enamored with the worlds that they came from, the promise of what they could bring, that they refused to see the rot that lurked within each and every one. What made them so worthy? What value would they bring to this universe? What point could any of them have? He wants to rant, and rage, and tell them that they are being foolish, but they would not listen, would they? Why would they care, so swollen with dreams of returning to their perfect worlds, their perfect homes. For Silco could not imagine a life, in which he would bring back a world with nothing in it, and wasn't that what they all had? These worlds, with "good lives" were all that could motivate some of them, for they wanted to preserve their position. They had to. Nobody who came from a place like he did would be caught dead reviving it. Would they? He had said this, he had shared it, what these rotted worlds were like, where their pollution would seep into the very bones of their worlds, no matter what they did. But would they listen to him? Would any of them?
Oh no, none of them would. He was the lost one, the derided one. The one that they mocked and looked at as a creature to be destroyed. He was supposedly weak to all of them. Nothing. He made an enemy of all of them, and they still didn't respect him. He would lay waste to their very city if given the chance, and they still treated him like a piece of refuse. Something to kick to the side on their way toward whatever end goal they had in mind. Even the Harbinger did not want him to succeed, for they had placed him in this obstacle in particular. Given him the very two that were so ready to slay him. To murder him. To crush his shard, and then β
Voryn lets go, a mockery of unwanted intimacy, as Silco's dual-vision overtakes him, and his head is lifted in perfect time. He can see it coming, he can't move, he can't dodge, could he β
But what about β What will happen to β
Oh no β ]
No, Ji ββ
[ Hissed out as it is, his tone shaking, he almost says a word he refuses to share, the shock of his realization that there was something more important than anything hidden away, and nobody knew where it was, not even β
Hayame's arrow pierced his skull, sending flying bits of bone, hair, and gore everywhere as it flew through the other end. Likely, some of it found its way onto Voryn, and everything for Silco, all of that rage and fear, it went black. Silent. All of that strife, all of that fury, and it was like taking a storm, and plucking it out of the sky. Like all of it had suddenly ceased and was silent.
A black, oil-slick shard clinked to the ground, sharp and daggerlike, and it teetered at the edge of a gap in the floor, before it started to tip over, the universe deciding to grant the man a single favor. ]
no subject
He doesn't notice Hayame's words, he barely hears Voryn's over the pounding rush of furious blood in his head. An escalation that leaves his fingers trembling in white fury, his eye β that eye β looking down at Voryn with hatred.
It burns. His fury. Weaker he calls it. Weaker than his? Does he even know what those took from him? Did anyone? They mocked him, called him weak, derided him, because they had worlds that would be kind to them, or purposes to go back to. Silco wants to wring Voryn's neck, and show him what a mockery it was to call him weak that his vengeance was nothing compared to his. Some Moon-and-star nonsense, a lover that would inevitably betray him, perhaps? A trusted friend? They were nothing. None of them were.
Couldn't they see that? Of course they couldn't, so enamored with the worlds that they came from, the promise of what they could bring, that they refused to see the rot that lurked within each and every one. What made them so worthy? What value would they bring to this universe? What point could any of them have? He wants to rant, and rage, and tell them that they are being foolish, but they would not listen, would they? Why would they care, so swollen with dreams of returning to their perfect worlds, their perfect homes. For Silco could not imagine a life, in which he would bring back a world with nothing in it, and wasn't that what they all had? These worlds, with "good lives" were all that could motivate some of them, for they wanted to preserve their position. They had to. Nobody who came from a place like he did would be caught dead reviving it. Would they? He had said this, he had shared it, what these rotted worlds were like, where their pollution would seep into the very bones of their worlds, no matter what they did. But would they listen to him? Would any of them?
Oh no, none of them would. He was the lost one, the derided one. The one that they mocked and looked at as a creature to be destroyed. He was supposedly weak to all of them. Nothing. He made an enemy of all of them, and they still didn't respect him. He would lay waste to their very city if given the chance, and they still treated him like a piece of refuse. Something to kick to the side on their way toward whatever end goal they had in mind. Even the Harbinger did not want him to succeed, for they had placed him in this obstacle in particular. Given him the very two that were so ready to slay him. To murder him. To crush his shard, and then β
Voryn lets go, a mockery of unwanted intimacy, as Silco's dual-vision overtakes him, and his head is lifted in perfect time. He can see it coming, he can't move, he can't dodge, could he β
But what about β What will happen to β
Oh no β ]
No, Ji ββ
[ Hissed out as it is, his tone shaking, he almost says a word he refuses to share, the shock of his realization that there was something more important than anything hidden away, and nobody knew where it was, not even β
Hayame's arrow pierced his skull, sending flying bits of bone, hair, and gore everywhere as it flew through the other end. Likely, some of it found its way onto Voryn, and everything for Silco, all of that rage and fear, it went black. Silent. All of that strife, all of that fury, and it was like taking a storm, and plucking it out of the sky. Like all of it had suddenly ceased and was silent.
A black, oil-slick shard clinked to the ground, sharp and daggerlike, and it teetered at the edge of a gap in the floor, before it started to tip over, the universe deciding to grant the man a single favor. ]