the forest remembers // zane, day two

[lance]

[presto][/presto]

z a n e .

"you are weak
but not foolish
you have learned
how to die."

It doesn't. Make me feel better, I mean.

Really, it's not much different from ending Iden. My blade chops through the bird's leg like kindling and it lets out a truly heart-wrenching squawk in response. And when my heart remains unaffected but my brain rationalizes that suffering isn't something I'd willingly inflict on anyone or anything, a second slash across its neck does the trick.

A murderer two times over, even if the second one is only by technicality. This is what I've been forced to become to extend my life by a few more hours. Where's the Zane of the past, the Zane that followed the whims of none other than the wind?

Maybe that Zane's already dead. That Zane lost himself in carnal pleasure and adrenaline rushes, let himself get carried away while this Zane is all that remains, chained to the earth like a walking corpse not yet ready to commit to an eternal rest.

It's a damn shame that my conscious found itself chained in tandem instead of released to its forever home. Damn concept of mortality, and all that.

What really strikes me is that by and by this is a choice. I didn't have to run from the Cornucopia yesterday. I didn't have to fight back when the bird decided I'd encroached too far onto its territory. And yet here I am, drenched in blood and sweat and sin, a state that lost its luster the second I left Nine behind.

Distantly, I hear a cannon boom in the distance, its shout reminding me that really, I should be grateful that I'm still drawing breath.

But as I turn my gaze towards the setting sun, I find that it's really not all that surprising that I'm not.

elegant