๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ข ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐: @creaticgoeticist itโs Not Like It Is In The Movies, You Know. Someone Dies In A Violent And Terrible Way, And They Play A Soundtrack Snippet. Maybe They Add In Some Foley, A Bit Of Dialogue For The Villain, The Lamentation Of The Onlookers As They Mourn A Sudden Loss Of Their Beloved Companion. Itโs Cacophonous In Its Chaos, A Constant Echo Of Itself, And Perhaps Thatโs For The Best; It Masks The Scent Of Death In A Way That Maintains Its Palatability. The Audience Is Sad, But They Are Cradled. They Can Shut Their Eyes Or Look Away, And Are Seduced By The Notion That What They Have Just Witnessed Is Not Real. you Cannot Afford Such Luxuries. The Reality Is The Stillness Of A Corpse, And The Rhythm Of Your Own Breathing. the Absence Of Any Sort Of Fanfare Is Not Something You Are Expecting. All You Can Hear Instead Is The Agonizing Silence Of A Life Given In Exchange For Yours. Thereโs No More Screeching Metal As It Clashes With Itself, No More Grunts Of Effort Or Calls For Backup. There Is Nothing. Nothing At All. Wait, There Is One Thing. The Drip, Drip, Drip Of Blood Slipping From Where It Clings To Lord Englishโs Cane And Onto The Ground Where Heโ Whatโs Left Of Him, That Isโ Lay At His Feet. A Cruel Addition To The Otherwise Hollow Fucking Nothing Youโre Already Plummeting Downward Into. You Stare At The Unmoving, Eviscerated Mass Of Limbs And It Reminds You Of The Tumor You Afflicted Their Universe With All That Time Ago. The Red Miles Of His Blood Seep Into The Jagged Cracks Of The Rocky Surface You Stand On, Reaching For Something To Infect. Reaching For You. You Look At Him Like This. Drip, Drip. He Does Not Look Back. He Canโt. There Are No Eyes For Him To Do So. how Can It Be Over, Just Like This? There Are Supposed To Be Final Words, A Last Cry Of Passion, A Kiss Goodbye. Like You Are Reminded Coldly, You Cannot Afford Such Niceities. Your Loverโs Brain Matter Is Currently Being Smeared Across The Bottom Of A Green Scaled Heel. You Do Not Have Time To Think About The Last Time You Saw Him Smiling, Or What His Last Words Happened To Be, Or If They Were Even Addressed To You. You Will Scramble To Cling To Them Later When You Have A Moment To Comprehend The Immense Loss That You Face, But All You Are Able To Do In This Moment Is White-knuckle Your Sickles And Listen To The Stick-drag Of Heavy Footsteps Clodden In Viscera. damn Him, For Being A Hero. you Knew That This Would Be The Ruling From The Moment He Stepped In Front Of You. The Grandfather Clock, Though Not In Your Field Of View, Tolls Once, Twice, Again. The Pendulum Agonizes Over Its Choice As You Agonize Over Cutting Superficially At The Lord Who Took From You Your Last Bastion Of Hope. You Donโt Want To. Youโre Tired. You Canโt Strike Aptly When All You Can Think About Is The Tip Of The Cane Youโre Battling Against Being Driven Into The Knight Of Timeโs Throat. You Cannot Beat Him When He Already Knows Your Next Move. You Cannot Overcome Him. He Is Already Here. heroic. you Slice Away A Sizable Portion Of Thick Skin. just. you Constrict The Flow Of Lord Englishโs Blood, Tightening His Capillaries To Singularities. heroic. you Ignore Your Aching Heart As You Accidentally Slip In Some Of The Knightโs Blood. just. you Feel Like You Are Going To Die As You Drive Your Sickle Into The Writhing Bulk Of Scales And Sinew And Filet Him Where He Stands. heroic. you Miss Him Infinitely, And You Will Forever. the Rest Of Them Have To Drag You Away From Him. Your Nostrils Are Filled With The Stench Of Iron And Your Lips Taste Of It Too. It Was Uncouth To Bury Your Face In His Caved-in Chest, But You Just Couldnโt Help Yourself. You Wanted To Provide Him One Last Comfort. It Is The Least You Can Do. His Last Glimpse Of You Was The Way You Looked On In Terror. You Wish It Hadnโt Been. You Wish Instead It Was Of The Kiss You Shared Before Turning Your Backs Against Each Other To, As He Would So Eloquently Say, โkick Some Green Assโ. Or, Perhaps, Of The Sweetness Of The Pastries You Had Five Mornings Ago, Or The Light Of The Nearest Stars Bouncing Off Of Your Face And Making Your Eyes Sparkle Like You Had No Idea They Did. anything But This. the Stillness Will Cease, One Day. Sweeps Later, When You Meet The Lord And You Become His Knight. But You Donโt Know This Yet. For Now, You Force Loudness, You Surround Yourself With It, And You Try To Carry Your Heavy Soul From One Place To The Next. You Insert Yourself Into Places You Likely Do Not Belong Just To Feel As If You Do. You Write Reviews Instead Of Talking To Him About Your Favorite Films. And You Live, Because Of A Sacrifice That You Will Always Be Angry With Him For Committing. you Will Live. heroic. just. heroic. #death #gore #grief ๐ผ๐๐๐๐๐ข ๐๐๐ Just. โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ
To think our excellent movie host was holding onto something so dearly. Hm. I shall arrange for a basket.
I Think That Would Be A Good Idea. He Probably Needs It.
I don't suppose you have the memories for his favorite flowers in there, do you?
I'll Take A Peek.