Post by Jens on Feb 5, 2009 19:33:41 GMT -8
Zybok takes the sharpening stone, and gives it a pass over the paper-cutter blade arm. Held at just the right angle only a couple small sparks fly off the blade into the dim light of his room. Tiny shooting stars, tiny points of light streaking across the nether, before they go out.
Two emotions, so close to each other but different entirely in depth, play across Zybok's face. Rage and Hate. Your culture spends most of it's life getting stepped on, with only murder and death ahead of you, Rage builds within you. The kind of Rage that fires you to heroism or slaughter. Another pass of stone against the steel, a couple more sparks joyously fighting against the darkness with their brief lives.
A rich A-hole bumps you and curses at you, that's annoying. Someone scratches your car at the super-market *or wherever*, that can make you angry. Someone decides they don't like you, pulls a knife on you, and you have to take a life to save yours just because they were stupid, that can fill you with rage. But there are some people who are weird and stand mostly apart. When they find someone they can truly see eye to eye with, that's the kind of family you choose, not the kind that someone can be born into. Stone passes along steel again, tiny sparks dance through the air for a moment.
Some things can never be forgiven. Some acts can only be repaid in blood. Lets just hope when this sin is repaid, there's only one grave that needs to be dug.
In the dim light of his room, Zybok passes the stone over the steel again, small sparks coming off the blade. His face doesn't change as his thoughts pass. His eyes don't see with veiled rage for once. They have the slow-burning sheen of Hatred.
The stone passes over steel once more, a few lonely sparks, fighting the darkness.
Two emotions, so close to each other but different entirely in depth, play across Zybok's face. Rage and Hate. Your culture spends most of it's life getting stepped on, with only murder and death ahead of you, Rage builds within you. The kind of Rage that fires you to heroism or slaughter. Another pass of stone against the steel, a couple more sparks joyously fighting against the darkness with their brief lives.
A rich A-hole bumps you and curses at you, that's annoying. Someone scratches your car at the super-market *or wherever*, that can make you angry. Someone decides they don't like you, pulls a knife on you, and you have to take a life to save yours just because they were stupid, that can fill you with rage. But there are some people who are weird and stand mostly apart. When they find someone they can truly see eye to eye with, that's the kind of family you choose, not the kind that someone can be born into. Stone passes along steel again, tiny sparks dance through the air for a moment.
Some things can never be forgiven. Some acts can only be repaid in blood. Lets just hope when this sin is repaid, there's only one grave that needs to be dug.
In the dim light of his room, Zybok passes the stone over the steel again, small sparks coming off the blade. His face doesn't change as his thoughts pass. His eyes don't see with veiled rage for once. They have the slow-burning sheen of Hatred.
The stone passes over steel once more, a few lonely sparks, fighting the darkness.
