❛❛ Beyond those scorching fires, those limitless woods, and the atrocious War, is a place I call home. It is you...❜❜
❝ Kiss me till we're pushed over our limits.❞
...━━━★*:・ﾟ
Amidst the great War,
Blooms a young love,
It was birthed upon,
Salvag...
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✧*:･ﾟ✧
ch²²—a grievous past
---.ᴥ︎ᴥ︎ᴥ︎ᴥ︎.---
It takes a great deal of fortitude, to overcome the pain of losing someone, to live those wounds, which later on heal into scars— those ones, that remind you of that horrid time when you'd lost a piece of your heart. But, to lose them in front of your own two eyes, watching their life drain out of their eyes, as well as their skins, while you're held up by your own demons; you are yet to be granted the time to grieve, because you have promised to bring them justice, to honour their sacrifice— it takes mettle, subsistence, self-mastery, composure, forbearance, tenacity, and resolution to treat that situation.
Jungkook is brave.
As he feeds the newly bonding horses carrots, patting the side of Grey's mane fondly, you'll never know, watching him— that he's gone through such thickness; that he's living it endlessly. His expressions are perfectly balanced, never betraying a single emotion.
His tale from last night, the harsh reality of the words he's lived through, is yet again successful in sending a horripilation of dread down my spine, even though it has been a frequent thing since.
The soft feather-touch of a certain gold-winged creature stays alive on my skin, the alien traces, yet the very familiar caress of it never wanting to fade, even though it has been a good couple of hours since.
Last night has been divulging, offering to me the answers to the numerous questions that had contributed to my sleepless many nights, but even though the answers cleared those questions that had been occupying a major space in my mind, it has left room for the latest. Those newly formed puzzles mostly circle around one thing, a thing that's concept was also introduced to me last night— the afterlife.
Since my juvenile age, I have been narrated the stories of fae, witches and warlocks, demons and gods, supernatural beings, ghosts. I used to await the bedtime so as to hear from my father, the animated tales of these otherworldly beings. Those tales used to raise questions— 'do these things really exist?' and 'if they do, do they engage with the human world?', or 'are those things benevolent in nature, such as those pretty little good fairies that assist sad kids, or they are malicious, like those demons, who like snatching away one's soul?'. Father would always reply with 'you would be answered, my dear, when the appropriate time comes'.
