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Yes, I am turning into a crazy cat lady. No, I don't care.
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Post by Reya Starlyght on May 12, 2019 13:16:30 GMTMother's and Father's Day, 2019 Happy Mother's Day! For the celebration of the holiday, and for Father's Day in many countries, there will be a writing event pertaining the two. Simple enough, write a story, flashback, letter, or something similar about one or both of your character's parents. If your character has another person that fills this parental role, you may write about them instead, if you so choose. The event will be open through
last edited Jun 10, 2019 19:09:55 GMT by Reya Starlyght
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Post by Reya Starlyght on May 12, 2019 13:20:18 GMT
The world was soft, blurred lines, culminating in a hazy tableau of light and shadow. A faint hum of machinery emanated from the heart of the ship, fading into his muffled eardrums. His eyes flickered shut, then back open again, and with a resounding yet mellow exhale they retained the latter position. Slowly he sat up, pushing aside blankets and planting his feet onto the metal plating below. Eris was fast asleep beside him, and in an effort to not wake her he bundled up the linen next to her in a roughly human approximating shape and got up, crossing the room in near silence. He exposed the contents of a drawer and ruffled through the papers in them, searching for his sketch pad groggily. He procured it and a pair of pencils before toggling the button that snapped the doors of the cockpit open, quickly sinking into the co-pilot's chair.
The stars displayed were faint, white points, quickly evolving into branches of systems and galaxies, so very different than what he had once known. Yet Leo could not recall the constellations of the past, no more than he could so many other details long vanished in time. His gaze wrenched away from the void, down at the blank page he had flipped to, past a myriad of other drawings detailing both the mundane and the not so much. Most often they were never revisited again upon completion, and such was the case that night as well. Technically he supposed it could be neither noon nor evening in space, but nonetheless it was dark, and so his mind classified it as the latter instinctually. His pencil tapped against the paper a few times, leaving small marks of graphite in which he quickly erased, before starting with a faint, inward curving line. It led into another, and another, and before he knew it a face emerged, his hands smudged gray.
Leo's mouth turned downward, slapping the notepad against the dashboard in front of him. As his luck often went, a button was depressed and a display overlaid the windshield. Scrambling to turn it off for a moment, fearing it was the warp drive or something of the like activating, he then paused, for it was nothing but a calendar. Funny, he had no idea that such even existed on their ship. He picked up what had caused the light, tracing over the various commands that could possibly detoggle it before looking at the graph itself, soon his expression upturning. "Of course," he murmured, a faint whisper unheard by the vacuum soon re-established in front of him. His grasp found the paper again, softly exhaling.
Alastair. The only face from his past Leonidas could recall with complete clarity, the visage that oft haunted his dreams and even his own reflection. What a fitting subject, considering the date, though he had only subconsciously registered such at first. Yes, Father's Day meant little to him now, or at least that was what he had thought. It was all in the distant past, many memories long faded yet paradoxically others as clear as the present day, untouched by the flux of time. It all had once clawed at his sanity, a raging beast wishing to be free of the pain, the sorrow, the torment. That was behind him as well, however, and all that remained was a sober acceptance of reality, for it could never be changed.
His nail traced the pitched spires indented in the leaflet, eventually falling to the eyes, lips, and then at the edge of the page the left side of the chest - his heart. Tap, tap, it rested there for some time, his eyes glazing over as they were caught in the distant wintry gale. Beneath it was the scent of smoke and blood, of steel having sung its magnum opus - its final movement concluding with a stinger reverberating unto eternity. Vivid, iridescent, he eventually had to tear himself away, a soft trickle brushed off his visage. His fingertips flirted with the paper, eventually turning to the next sheet, slight impressions found upon it. And yet the utensil soon did carve deeper ones, dripping metaphorically with inflection and immaculate font twisted into cursive lettering.
From the console he slowly leaned back, closing the notebook as a minuscule smile crossed him. A sliver of tears followed as his eyes shut, slumping forward again with his face pressed against its leather binding. There did he wait, the black not entirely so, minutes ticking into hours in which he eventually resigned himself to a depthless stare at worlds beyond. It was nothing new to him, far from it in fact. Hopeless, useless, he ran his fingers through his hair, a sharp pain emanating from his temple in which he cringed, gripping his forehead as his elbow came down upon the dashboard. A few words did he curse, unable to move himself for a few seconds before he finally managed, standing up from his chair and meandering back to the ship's general living quarters. Leo rummaged through an overhanging cabinet, procuring a capsule of pills in which he emptied out four or five of them, moving them about his palm with his thumb before swallowing, in a moment filling up a glass of water and drinking it as well. It was far over any normal dosage amount for painkillers, but that was nothing new, one or two never seemed to have any effect and he knew far too well why.
Sobering as it was, though, he chose to block out the thought, somewhat pointless considering everything that had already run through his mind but nevertheless he did. Pausing for some time in hope that the drugs would kick in faster, although he knew it would do nothing, Leo eventually washed the cup he held and put it away again, then slinking back over to his point of origin and sitting upon it. "You're making the bed sink," Eris muttered, half asleep if not more so as she rolled over for a brief moment, hazily blinking in his direction. He smiled, shaking his head briefly, a mhm emanating from his lips. And so did he lie down again, flat and staring up at the ceiling for some time. It was the same slick curvature as always, memorized for no reason other than his complete and utter inability to fall asleep at any reasonable time. Leo had accepted such a long time ago, though, it wasn't something he was unable to cope with, especially with a glass or six of the magical elixir known as coffee. That was just how things were, even as pain ran its course he turned on his side, offering a muted smile as he wrapped his arm around her. Everything would be alright, for now.
The stars displayed were faint, white points, quickly evolving into branches of systems and galaxies, so very different than what he had once known. Yet Leo could not recall the constellations of the past, no more than he could so many other details long vanished in time. His gaze wrenched away from the void, down at the blank page he had flipped to, past a myriad of other drawings detailing both the mundane and the not so much. Most often they were never revisited again upon completion, and such was the case that night as well. Technically he supposed it could be neither noon nor evening in space, but nonetheless it was dark, and so his mind classified it as the latter instinctually. His pencil tapped against the paper a few times, leaving small marks of graphite in which he quickly erased, before starting with a faint, inward curving line. It led into another, and another, and before he knew it a face emerged, his hands smudged gray.
Leo's mouth turned downward, slapping the notepad against the dashboard in front of him. As his luck often went, a button was depressed and a display overlaid the windshield. Scrambling to turn it off for a moment, fearing it was the warp drive or something of the like activating, he then paused, for it was nothing but a calendar. Funny, he had no idea that such even existed on their ship. He picked up what had caused the light, tracing over the various commands that could possibly detoggle it before looking at the graph itself, soon his expression upturning. "Of course," he murmured, a faint whisper unheard by the vacuum soon re-established in front of him. His grasp found the paper again, softly exhaling.
Alastair. The only face from his past Leonidas could recall with complete clarity, the visage that oft haunted his dreams and even his own reflection. What a fitting subject, considering the date, though he had only subconsciously registered such at first. Yes, Father's Day meant little to him now, or at least that was what he had thought. It was all in the distant past, many memories long faded yet paradoxically others as clear as the present day, untouched by the flux of time. It all had once clawed at his sanity, a raging beast wishing to be free of the pain, the sorrow, the torment. That was behind him as well, however, and all that remained was a sober acceptance of reality, for it could never be changed.
His nail traced the pitched spires indented in the leaflet, eventually falling to the eyes, lips, and then at the edge of the page the left side of the chest - his heart. Tap, tap, it rested there for some time, his eyes glazing over as they were caught in the distant wintry gale. Beneath it was the scent of smoke and blood, of steel having sung its magnum opus - its final movement concluding with a stinger reverberating unto eternity. Vivid, iridescent, he eventually had to tear himself away, a soft trickle brushed off his visage. His fingertips flirted with the paper, eventually turning to the next sheet, slight impressions found upon it. And yet the utensil soon did carve deeper ones, dripping metaphorically with inflection and immaculate font twisted into cursive lettering.
Alastair,
I suppose I never did call you that while you were alive. Father, Athir, Da - whatever, not like it matters now anyway. Well, happy Father's Day, even though I have no doubt you have absolutely no idea what that is aside from its literal denotation. When I was young you would occasionally speak about change, knowing full well from your own experiences the horrors that come with the passage of time, yet also the sheer breadth of beauty and wonder beached with the tides. New opportunities, a second chance, you always stressed the latter for it held the most application to your own life, and to mine as well, in retrospect.
I'm not entirely sure if the benefits outweigh the losses, though, at least to an extent. For you it stole your home, and although your words always seemed spiteful on the surface their connotation wove a vibrant tapestry of Tritaihatreis, accentuating the foreign nature of the world you had come to call your own. Sure, had the thirty-three lines never destroyed it the journey to Earthland wouldn't have even been pondered, and consequently I would have never been able to pen this one of many meaningless letters, unread for your sight long ago faded to black, nothingness, from that which we came. Perhaps it would have been for the better, an ocean of blood would have been spared, your own included. Then again, the same was true of Tritaihatreis, just a multitude of hues rather than a monochrome.
How could you ever lie like that, to say you'd rather die than go back to it restored? I would die to see Earthland returned to its former glory, no alien world can ever hope to replace its place in my heart. An ultimatum, to some, for now I have spent more of my time away from it than I will ever again reside there, but it is my home, as distant and broken as it may be. I don't deserve any better, and though it was after your departure you fell, neither did you - well, our entire race didn't. Who am I kidding, humanity has had its fair share of horrific deeds as well, and I contributed to both counts. Actually, contribute is probably the better word to use there. Congratulations, your son is a mass murderer! I guess it runs in the family, doesn't it?
Then again, not everything about the future is horrific. It sounded absurd to me at first and at times still does, but that strip of tiny dots in the sky - the one my mother would always point at and claim was the home of the gods - truly is another realm filled with vibrant life without truly being separate from Earthland. I stare out at the same yet vastly different stars now, in the void of space that is so desolate yet so beautiful simultaneously. I think you would have loved it, even with all the intrusive questions it poses. And the new worlds, the new planets humanity has settled upon, they are not necessarily uninviting, many have been shaped by society's hands to capture the essence of home. Trillium, that's where Eris and I live now when we're not traveling, reminds me a lot of the Flats especially. It's nice, actually, the bitter wind is refreshing yet grounding at the same time when everything can seem like utter chaos, and not the exhilarating kind either.
I can no longer say I think of you every time I'm brought back to that place though, or rather, it's no longer a gruesome memory. That might not be for the best, maybe it just shows how apathetic I am to not take care to honor your death for I was the one who caused it, but for the longest time I could think about nothing else. Nowadays, my nightmares are focused on the billion other mistakes I've made during my life, so that's fun. Honestly, to a degree it's better, because I never really wanted to hate you. Now all your secrets are spilled, yes, but you really did try your hardest to steer me down the right path, and it was never your fault that I ended up the way I did, other than the fact that we are of the same blood.
At least I remember you. I cannot say the same for my mother, not a name nor face appears when I try, only words of a distant past long brushed aside. Did the same happen to you, after all those years? You never once spoke of your family beyond the spare mention of Adelina, of course the reason why is obvious now, but was it all crystal clear and my own subpar memory just a result of the human condition? Perhaps the former is worse than the latter, for there is no numbness, no true concept of a passing clock - though even Eris and I wake up and forget, sometimes.
But alas, there is no true way to turn back. At one point it was all I ever hoped for, at another the only future I could accept as a possibility. Life is what it is, though, and no amount of power can change that. How different would it be, had you not descended into madness, or even if I had not not done the same? Where would I be today, if Earthland still remained? Those answers will never be certain, but each would unfold a completely alien reality, not only for myself but in the most severe case for humanity at large. That being said, for all that has been lost to the past, so too have new relationships and opportunities presented themselves, some incomprehensible to who I once was. Perhaps that was how you could let go, moving on with an eye toward the future rather than reminiscing on moments already out of your sight. Whatever the case, it is another mystery, buried to never return. As will this letter be, in some way, shape, or form. I dare not dream lest it be corrupted, yet I wish there to be a day where I would no longer be obliged to remember, a time when all has truly been put to rest. At least I can say that is the case, for you.
Love,
Leonidas
I suppose I never did call you that while you were alive. Father, Athir, Da - whatever, not like it matters now anyway. Well, happy Father's Day, even though I have no doubt you have absolutely no idea what that is aside from its literal denotation. When I was young you would occasionally speak about change, knowing full well from your own experiences the horrors that come with the passage of time, yet also the sheer breadth of beauty and wonder beached with the tides. New opportunities, a second chance, you always stressed the latter for it held the most application to your own life, and to mine as well, in retrospect.
I'm not entirely sure if the benefits outweigh the losses, though, at least to an extent. For you it stole your home, and although your words always seemed spiteful on the surface their connotation wove a vibrant tapestry of Tritaihatreis, accentuating the foreign nature of the world you had come to call your own. Sure, had the thirty-three lines never destroyed it the journey to Earthland wouldn't have even been pondered, and consequently I would have never been able to pen this one of many meaningless letters, unread for your sight long ago faded to black, nothingness, from that which we came. Perhaps it would have been for the better, an ocean of blood would have been spared, your own included. Then again, the same was true of Tritaihatreis, just a multitude of hues rather than a monochrome.
How could you ever lie like that, to say you'd rather die than go back to it restored? I would die to see Earthland returned to its former glory, no alien world can ever hope to replace its place in my heart. An ultimatum, to some, for now I have spent more of my time away from it than I will ever again reside there, but it is my home, as distant and broken as it may be. I don't deserve any better, and though it was after your departure you fell, neither did you - well, our entire race didn't. Who am I kidding, humanity has had its fair share of horrific deeds as well, and I contributed to both counts. Actually, contribute is probably the better word to use there. Congratulations, your son is a mass murderer! I guess it runs in the family, doesn't it?
Then again, not everything about the future is horrific. It sounded absurd to me at first and at times still does, but that strip of tiny dots in the sky - the one my mother would always point at and claim was the home of the gods - truly is another realm filled with vibrant life without truly being separate from Earthland. I stare out at the same yet vastly different stars now, in the void of space that is so desolate yet so beautiful simultaneously. I think you would have loved it, even with all the intrusive questions it poses. And the new worlds, the new planets humanity has settled upon, they are not necessarily uninviting, many have been shaped by society's hands to capture the essence of home. Trillium, that's where Eris and I live now when we're not traveling, reminds me a lot of the Flats especially. It's nice, actually, the bitter wind is refreshing yet grounding at the same time when everything can seem like utter chaos, and not the exhilarating kind either.
I can no longer say I think of you every time I'm brought back to that place though, or rather, it's no longer a gruesome memory. That might not be for the best, maybe it just shows how apathetic I am to not take care to honor your death for I was the one who caused it, but for the longest time I could think about nothing else. Nowadays, my nightmares are focused on the billion other mistakes I've made during my life, so that's fun. Honestly, to a degree it's better, because I never really wanted to hate you. Now all your secrets are spilled, yes, but you really did try your hardest to steer me down the right path, and it was never your fault that I ended up the way I did, other than the fact that we are of the same blood.
At least I remember you. I cannot say the same for my mother, not a name nor face appears when I try, only words of a distant past long brushed aside. Did the same happen to you, after all those years? You never once spoke of your family beyond the spare mention of Adelina, of course the reason why is obvious now, but was it all crystal clear and my own subpar memory just a result of the human condition? Perhaps the former is worse than the latter, for there is no numbness, no true concept of a passing clock - though even Eris and I wake up and forget, sometimes.
But alas, there is no true way to turn back. At one point it was all I ever hoped for, at another the only future I could accept as a possibility. Life is what it is, though, and no amount of power can change that. How different would it be, had you not descended into madness, or even if I had not not done the same? Where would I be today, if Earthland still remained? Those answers will never be certain, but each would unfold a completely alien reality, not only for myself but in the most severe case for humanity at large. That being said, for all that has been lost to the past, so too have new relationships and opportunities presented themselves, some incomprehensible to who I once was. Perhaps that was how you could let go, moving on with an eye toward the future rather than reminiscing on moments already out of your sight. Whatever the case, it is another mystery, buried to never return. As will this letter be, in some way, shape, or form. I dare not dream lest it be corrupted, yet I wish there to be a day where I would no longer be obliged to remember, a time when all has truly been put to rest. At least I can say that is the case, for you.
Love,
Leonidas
From the console he slowly leaned back, closing the notebook as a minuscule smile crossed him. A sliver of tears followed as his eyes shut, slumping forward again with his face pressed against its leather binding. There did he wait, the black not entirely so, minutes ticking into hours in which he eventually resigned himself to a depthless stare at worlds beyond. It was nothing new to him, far from it in fact. Hopeless, useless, he ran his fingers through his hair, a sharp pain emanating from his temple in which he cringed, gripping his forehead as his elbow came down upon the dashboard. A few words did he curse, unable to move himself for a few seconds before he finally managed, standing up from his chair and meandering back to the ship's general living quarters. Leo rummaged through an overhanging cabinet, procuring a capsule of pills in which he emptied out four or five of them, moving them about his palm with his thumb before swallowing, in a moment filling up a glass of water and drinking it as well. It was far over any normal dosage amount for painkillers, but that was nothing new, one or two never seemed to have any effect and he knew far too well why.
Sobering as it was, though, he chose to block out the thought, somewhat pointless considering everything that had already run through his mind but nevertheless he did. Pausing for some time in hope that the drugs would kick in faster, although he knew it would do nothing, Leo eventually washed the cup he held and put it away again, then slinking back over to his point of origin and sitting upon it. "You're making the bed sink," Eris muttered, half asleep if not more so as she rolled over for a brief moment, hazily blinking in his direction. He smiled, shaking his head briefly, a mhm emanating from his lips. And so did he lie down again, flat and staring up at the ceiling for some time. It was the same slick curvature as always, memorized for no reason other than his complete and utter inability to fall asleep at any reasonable time. Leo had accepted such a long time ago, though, it wasn't something he was unable to cope with, especially with a glass or six of the magical elixir known as coffee. That was just how things were, even as pain ran its course he turned on his side, offering a muted smile as he wrapped his arm around her. Everything would be alright, for now.
