Post by Asphodel on Oct 19, 2004 16:39:28 GMT -5
It’s raining. You watch tiny rivulets of water slip aimlessly, hopelessly down the window, to fall, one by one to their deaths. So many have fallen before, and yet it’s raining again, more fading senselessly from the world. And you aren’t just thinking raindrops.
Sirius Black is dead. You know this, and still you wonder at the strangeness that lingers on your tongue when you try to speak the fact aloud. Another little lion, fallen. Like a raindrop, numberless among the millions, but to one young boy, forever number one among the ranks.
A shiver runs down your spine despite the July heat. This castle seems so desolate without its students, without your children. And when they aren’t here, you can’t protect them. You wonder how many will return when fall rolls around.
“We cannot save them all, my dear, no matter how we try,” he says, has *always* said, but you wont listen: you can’t. Defeat is the last thing you’d admit, and children should never fall from storm clouds. Children should never die like rain.
“I know,” he whispers brokenly, though there is still fire in his eyes, twinkling as a bright blue flame. “I know.”
Of course he knows. He has known it longer than yourself, and remained immovable throughout it all. He has not been drowned by past storms. You bite you lip and pray he outlasts another.
It’s dark outside, gloomy and weary. The earth always weeps before humans are even aware the problem exists. It’s grieving now, a drop for every soul to fade. You know how that feels.
They should all be here, they should, and yet they are not. Turned by the allure of night, or given over to the sun, they no longer walk under your gaze. You had to let them go, but you wonder, as you watch the tiny droplets cascade rhythmically, who will set them free?
It’s not fair. You clench your teeth against the scream that rises in your throat. It isn’t fair at all.
When you were younger, you believed there was a light side and a dark side to everything. But as you listen to the thunder now, you realize war is like nature: there is no siding. There is only indifference. There is no good, and there is no evil. Lightning flashes across the sky. There is only power.
Those without the strength to use it free fall, like rain. They careen wildly into the unknown, blanking out into an abyss of missed chances. Does a raindrop miss the sunny days it never got to see? You know Sirius does. And James, and Lily. And so many others whose names have eroded from your mind, faceless like the raindrops. But their essence is burned into your very soul. The essence of what might have been, and what will never be. It is bitter and sweet, and you run from it, and hold it as your highest addiction. But you cringe away as the droplets patter against the pane: such mysteries should never come at that expense. Nothing is worth that. Nothing.
It’s raining harder now, and the scream lodged in your throat morphs into an anguished sob. You *taught* these children! All of them were under your care, and now...and now...You lean your head against the cool glass. And now nothing. They’re gone, and forgotten by so many, evaporated from the world, as rainwater.
“We’ll win this, I swear it,” He murmurs, and you know he’s right. But at what cost? You do not think you can live through another storm that will flood the world with blood and bodies. Tears, and friends. Raindrops blow away, but the memories of the dead linger forever, mud just under the surface.
You turn around to look at him. He’s trying to smile, for your sake and his sake, and the sake of your entire world. If it weren’t for him, no one would be here, but you especially. Without him, you would have dried up or whirled away long ago, the sun to harsh for you to bear. You are so thankful for his love that found you all those years ago, first as friendship then as something so encompassing, it is rooted within you permanently. You would never try to rid yourself of it anyway.
But who, you wonder, who will save *them*? No one. There are not enough people in this world to save the souls of the lost and the damned. There isn’t enough shade to hold the rain close. That is the way of things, and there is nothing you can do but fight your hardest for those around you. Fight to shield them and teach them to cling to life, or they will fall, spiritless and formless.
His arms come around you, and you bury yourself in his embrace. “It will be alright, love. Someday, the storm will end. It always does,” he croons, his warm body soothing you. Yes, the storm does end, but it’s always too late. Always.
You cling to him, and let your tears fall, like the nameless and the lost. Like raindrops.
So...hoping it's clear, but that was Min's POV. Thank's for reading. ~Asphodel
Sirius Black is dead. You know this, and still you wonder at the strangeness that lingers on your tongue when you try to speak the fact aloud. Another little lion, fallen. Like a raindrop, numberless among the millions, but to one young boy, forever number one among the ranks.
A shiver runs down your spine despite the July heat. This castle seems so desolate without its students, without your children. And when they aren’t here, you can’t protect them. You wonder how many will return when fall rolls around.
“We cannot save them all, my dear, no matter how we try,” he says, has *always* said, but you wont listen: you can’t. Defeat is the last thing you’d admit, and children should never fall from storm clouds. Children should never die like rain.
“I know,” he whispers brokenly, though there is still fire in his eyes, twinkling as a bright blue flame. “I know.”
Of course he knows. He has known it longer than yourself, and remained immovable throughout it all. He has not been drowned by past storms. You bite you lip and pray he outlasts another.
It’s dark outside, gloomy and weary. The earth always weeps before humans are even aware the problem exists. It’s grieving now, a drop for every soul to fade. You know how that feels.
They should all be here, they should, and yet they are not. Turned by the allure of night, or given over to the sun, they no longer walk under your gaze. You had to let them go, but you wonder, as you watch the tiny droplets cascade rhythmically, who will set them free?
It’s not fair. You clench your teeth against the scream that rises in your throat. It isn’t fair at all.
When you were younger, you believed there was a light side and a dark side to everything. But as you listen to the thunder now, you realize war is like nature: there is no siding. There is only indifference. There is no good, and there is no evil. Lightning flashes across the sky. There is only power.
Those without the strength to use it free fall, like rain. They careen wildly into the unknown, blanking out into an abyss of missed chances. Does a raindrop miss the sunny days it never got to see? You know Sirius does. And James, and Lily. And so many others whose names have eroded from your mind, faceless like the raindrops. But their essence is burned into your very soul. The essence of what might have been, and what will never be. It is bitter and sweet, and you run from it, and hold it as your highest addiction. But you cringe away as the droplets patter against the pane: such mysteries should never come at that expense. Nothing is worth that. Nothing.
It’s raining harder now, and the scream lodged in your throat morphs into an anguished sob. You *taught* these children! All of them were under your care, and now...and now...You lean your head against the cool glass. And now nothing. They’re gone, and forgotten by so many, evaporated from the world, as rainwater.
“We’ll win this, I swear it,” He murmurs, and you know he’s right. But at what cost? You do not think you can live through another storm that will flood the world with blood and bodies. Tears, and friends. Raindrops blow away, but the memories of the dead linger forever, mud just under the surface.
You turn around to look at him. He’s trying to smile, for your sake and his sake, and the sake of your entire world. If it weren’t for him, no one would be here, but you especially. Without him, you would have dried up or whirled away long ago, the sun to harsh for you to bear. You are so thankful for his love that found you all those years ago, first as friendship then as something so encompassing, it is rooted within you permanently. You would never try to rid yourself of it anyway.
But who, you wonder, who will save *them*? No one. There are not enough people in this world to save the souls of the lost and the damned. There isn’t enough shade to hold the rain close. That is the way of things, and there is nothing you can do but fight your hardest for those around you. Fight to shield them and teach them to cling to life, or they will fall, spiritless and formless.
His arms come around you, and you bury yourself in his embrace. “It will be alright, love. Someday, the storm will end. It always does,” he croons, his warm body soothing you. Yes, the storm does end, but it’s always too late. Always.
You cling to him, and let your tears fall, like the nameless and the lost. Like raindrops.
So...hoping it's clear, but that was Min's POV. Thank's for reading. ~Asphodel
