The exquisite reminiscences in Blade's life, are a feverish, foolish dream. Reminiscences that fleet, and sooner or later, crumble within his hands, and slip through his fingers.
And he loathes how he is unable to cherish them. For dread is a companion that looms over him, injecting scepticism into his mind. he wonders, how much will it require for your departure, how much will it require for you to convey disappointment and repugnance towards him.
Yet, you squeeze his hand in reassurance and with such tenderness, your soft hands trace the palm of his hand—a notable juxtaposition to his calloused ones.
He desires to divulge to you what's on his mind.
The melancholic reminiscences are akin to a typhoon within him— it prolongs stirring. And he despises that life goes on— the tree leaves rustle, the sparrows chirp, the trains rattle along the tracks, and he remains bitter. For life, he deduced, is neither unfair nor fair— it depends on the way you deem situations.
He desires to divulge to you what's on his mind.
For you are his purpose to live as an immortal abomination of abundance, and he is your reason to die as a mere mortal.
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
silver ichor.
Fanfic୨◟❪ i ❫⁀𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗱𝗲፡ in which𓂃 valuable moments never lasted to long for him, like a firefly; you've taught him how to love ! ୧ ✷ @jemvia, 23 & 24.
