The thorn of flowers
As time came to pass Idra grew into a fine young man, he was now 17 years of age, 12 years since he had left on his journey to claim the innocence of the world. I wonder where he is. I hear of his exploitations from everyone and receive their appraisal, he roams the world freeing it of “evil,” what evil?
Is he not evil, for taking their innocence and leaving me alone?
Is he not?
I stare at the midnight sky as I lay on the plains we used to rest at when we were kids, the grass tickling my feet, the world above so beautiful in the darkness. So beautiful. I want to go to that world, but I must wait for him, the days fill with sorrow as Idra looks more and more like his father. On nights like these, I just lay on the plains dreaming of him with me as we bathe under the light of the heavens, the moon, our spotlight, and the earth and universe our stage.
But it’s a far dream, far. Oh so far. I extend my hand out to the dark above, and the world is silent. Silent like my soul is this calm night, wanting so badly to make a sound and rip through the fabric of the world, but the sound can’t be conjured.
I look over in the direction that he smiled to on that day, and all I can see are headless figures whose flesh has long given way to the fauna, headless souls tied down to a world so cruelly, is this his freedom and salvation of the world? Does it ache his heart in any way?
Was it all just a lie?
The world just feels darker and colder, I thought it would be much warmer if he went out to free the world. Why?
The sound of feet slapping against grass gets closer and closer, and before I can realize it Sora stands beside me. His figure and presence much like before, his unending beauty in my eyes brings me to tears and I cry, and cry and cry.
His hand reaches out to me and I grasp it, he pulls me toward him just like before and I rest in his arms as we stand, we dance slowly...and music somewhere...music begins to play and it's all so beautiful oh so beautiful. I hum along as my eyes are closed and I rest my head on his shoulder, we slow dance under the radiance of the moon. I think nothing of the heavy smell of iron, iron, iron, as I dance with my love. My world. We dance for some time before he kisses my forehead and I open my eyes, I look into the silver of his eyes and the small droplets of blood that compliment his pale skin. I sigh softly saying “you should really clean up after yourself more,” and look over his shoulder for a moment and see a lonely darkness like no other, then I see Idra laying down looking up at the moon. Scarlet red oozes timidly from the gash in his neck, it sparkles as I weep into his shoulder.
He moves back a bit and I feel the quick slash of a warm blade right on my neck. The scarlet blood now oozing timidly from my neck, makes me smile as I stare at my beloved…
Pain, aching...aching aching aching.
From within me, it comes. Pain
It hurts. It hurts oh so bad.
I...I love him. That smile eases the horrid world, does it really?
AHHHHHHHHHH. I hear myself howl, into the melancholy world.
Will he smile now?
I wonder, as I die and the world dissipates to