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part two hundred and twelve
b b h ♥ ♥ ♥ Please do not post pictures using table codes! Please use <img src=""> for phone anons! (and label links!) • ip logging is off • anon is on • stay anon • do not spam links post glossary/wiki mod alert post meme • sncj • fyexo • fyeahs world cup: exomeme edition congratulations team nini & team chenshine! round one: 07-08 00:00 UTC - 07-10 23:59 UTC team a - laybaektao, team b - xiuchanlu, team c - sudopphun last page | flat view | themes |
Re: wc!au - team lay/tao/minseok
(Anonymous) 2014-07-08 08:58 pm (UTC)(link)But this is later, much later, and right now it is perhaps a blessing to be this numb and this blind, to remember his but little of the moments before.
Right now, Minseok knows only two things:
one: that he is dead
two: the ache in his heart has a name, and it is fear.
"It's not so bad," the man is saying, and Minseok lifts his tired head from the man - the angel's? - shoulder. The man - no, the angel, Minseok is sure of it now - has dark eyes and even darker hair, yet the a sort of whiteness, a sort of lightness that eases the pain and unbids his tongue.
"Will," he says, and then stumbles over his words. He swallows them, yet he sense the man - the angel - is waiting for them. He also knows that if he keeps them, the man will not be disappointed. Minseok knows, and cautiously, he offers them again.
"Will I ever be undead?" he asks, and the thought and the answer come to him all at once, and a terrible darkness threatens to engulf the ache; the thought that he is being a fool, the anster that is no. But the man does not laugh, nor call him a fool. Instead, he reaches his hand towards Minseok's cheek and lets it linger there for a second. A faint smile appears, and Minseok is again struck by that whiteness, easing an ache Minseok had never known existed.
(later, he will learn that all souls still long for life)
"It's not so bad," the angel says, answering his question and not all in the same breath. They are walking down a hall, it seemed - one of infinite length and breadth, with Minseok nestled safe in the angel's arms.
"What isn't?" he finally asks.
He is tired and he isn't, and he lays his head against the angel's shoulder yet again. Minseok knows instinctively that the silence foretells the missing heartbeat, but finds no cause for alarm. Only warmth.
"I thought you'd never ask," the angel says, and this time, there is laughter in his voice, and laughter wells too in Minseok, and bubbles through his chest.
:Would you have told me if I didn't?" Minseok says, adn he knows he is being cheeky. His eyes shine bright.
The angel seems to consider this for a moment, and then he smoothes back Minseok's hair.
"Probably," he admits, "but it's better shown than told."
Suddenly, Minseok is aware of laughter, lots of it, and a sense of somethjing he cannot name, that holds him back. he glances back once at the angel who smiles and nods, and as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Minseok joins the other children, and adds both his hope and his regrets to theirs.
-
Baekhyun has always had a knack with children Yixing could never seem tor eplicate. Here, they call him the Healer, yet anyone who watcvhed long enough would soon understand that the balms he provided were only temporary and that it was Baekhyun who could make their broken pieces whole, and return them to Life as they should be.
Yixing had seen many children, over what might be called the years.
Those who passed loved and mourned, from sickness, from some unavoidable accident. These were the easiest, because they knew that Life was joy, and that Life was waiting for their return. Then there were those who had passed neglected, hated, ignored. Those who had known anger more than the sun and fear moer thjan the sky. They were difficult, for Life had not been kind, and fear was a blade mor powerful than dragonsflame, and the scars it left were searing to the touch. And then there were those who had known burden, had known weight, had known a path that few would ever tread and even fewer would understand, and these - these were fragile souls, ones that had shattered and been poorly mended, and broken all over again until even the finest eye or hand could never seek their original shape. In a way, they were Yixing's specialty.In a way.
And then tehre were the children of war.
yixing was not old, but nor was he young; it was not a question fo age, the way the hatred and anger and lust and rage of hundreds and thousands would weave themselves into a net, tangling all itne conmpassed, touching those who drew near.
There were a handful of them - ones who men might call angels. They had no name, were no Fey nor Fen - they were merely guides. But guides see ane guides watch, and not a one would disagree that the children of war were a whole other case, that it was no longer a question of fixing or mending. It was a question of healing.
And here, truly was where his purpose lay.
Re: wc!au - team lay/tao/minseok
(Anonymous) 2014-07-08 09:04 pm (UTC)(link)and also anon are you ok ;;
Re: wc!au - team lay/tao/minseok
(Anonymous) 2014-07-08 09:08 pm (UTC)(link)