Dylix Morte Vita | Fin.
Feb 22, 2015 20:05:37 GMT -5
Post by flyss on Feb 22, 2015 20:05:37 GMT -5
D y l i x
M o r t e
V i t a
___
L i f e
A f t e r
D e a t h
___
1 7 Y e a r s O l d
___
D i s t r i c t E i g h t
___
We were born sick; you heard them say it
My Church offers no absolutes
She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom."
The only heaven I'll be sent to
Is when I'm alone with you
What are your goals in life? To sing? To live? To c o n q u e r ?
Your name is Dylix Morte Vita and frankly, you don't know.
It was six years ago today that you noticed him.
M o r t e
V i t a
___
L i f e
A f t e r
D e a t h
___
1 7 Y e a r s O l d
___
D i s t r i c t E i g h t
___
We were born sick; you heard them say it
My Church offers no absolutes
She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom."
The only heaven I'll be sent to
Is when I'm alone with you
What are your goals in life? To sing? To live? To c o n q u e r ?
Your name is Dylix Morte Vita and frankly, you don't know.
It was six years ago today that you noticed him.
Ice laces your window like a spiderweb, intricate designs destined to stay for an allotted time that is far too short. The warmth of your breath fogs the pristine glass, frightening the crystals into hiding, and your fingertips pad along to a tune in your head. Despite snow being common where you live, it is still of novelty and joy. White is your favourite colour, after all. Blanc. Weiß. Album. Wit. Languages nobody has uttered in centuries flood your mind just to accompany that word, like a wave on the shore of the lake by your house. It's almost overwhelming.
Sadly enough, your breath is caught swiftly in your throat, interrupting any further investigation into the notion. Metres away, playing in the pillow of snow, is a boy that has hair like a sundae and eyes like chestnuts. When he falls back, a smile on his face bright enough to catch fire, you can't help but grin along with him.
He's cute, you think to yourself as you slip on your gloves and boots, adjust the blue wool and silver thread adorning your head, and push a stray strand of stark brown hair from your eyes. You might as well not leave him out alone in the cold, to freeze in his own play and delightful struggle. You push past the front door of your house and shut it quietly behind you, making a smooth exit only to be greeted by the squeals of the district children. Hastily, you find his face as if it were your own and begin to move through the sea of white, the sea of clouds, the sea of innocence.
"Need some help?" You offer with glowing mahogany eyes and a smirk on your face. Your breath blows a false sky around you as you stare at the kid in front of you. "My name is Dylix Morte Vita." Elastic words fill the air and he nearly winces. You stop to consider that he doesn't care about your name but quickly dismiss the negative thought. It would only cause trouble if your lingered on it.
"The name's Regen Freiheit." His fingers mindlessly fiddle with the loose strings of his pants, a habit presumably, but not something that he would necessarily do often. "What brings you outside? You don't seem like the type to.." His words trail off to somewhere else as you affixate your glance with his.
"No, no; believe me, this is a rarity." Your grin widens for half a second before finding its softened structure once more. You rack your mind for a reasonable answer. "I just felt like getting some fresh air. It does seem nice out, after all." Your toes tap and the wind brushes past you roughly. You know it's going take you years to know this kid fully, but you are willing to do that. He feels so open, so truthful, so down-to-earth
"As would be expected." His response is thought out and short. Right to the point. Just as he speaks, though, a kid yells his name from across the field. "I'm sorry that our conversation has to be so brisk, but come talk to me again some time, dude. You seem cool." As he walks off, you nearly run in right then. But why waste your trek outside? Isn't it nice to live every once in a while?
Sadly enough, your breath is caught swiftly in your throat, interrupting any further investigation into the notion. Metres away, playing in the pillow of snow, is a boy that has hair like a sundae and eyes like chestnuts. When he falls back, a smile on his face bright enough to catch fire, you can't help but grin along with him.
He's cute, you think to yourself as you slip on your gloves and boots, adjust the blue wool and silver thread adorning your head, and push a stray strand of stark brown hair from your eyes. You might as well not leave him out alone in the cold, to freeze in his own play and delightful struggle. You push past the front door of your house and shut it quietly behind you, making a smooth exit only to be greeted by the squeals of the district children. Hastily, you find his face as if it were your own and begin to move through the sea of white, the sea of clouds, the sea of innocence.
"Need some help?" You offer with glowing mahogany eyes and a smirk on your face. Your breath blows a false sky around you as you stare at the kid in front of you. "My name is Dylix Morte Vita." Elastic words fill the air and he nearly winces. You stop to consider that he doesn't care about your name but quickly dismiss the negative thought. It would only cause trouble if your lingered on it.
"The name's Regen Freiheit." His fingers mindlessly fiddle with the loose strings of his pants, a habit presumably, but not something that he would necessarily do often. "What brings you outside? You don't seem like the type to.." His words trail off to somewhere else as you affixate your glance with his.
"No, no; believe me, this is a rarity." Your grin widens for half a second before finding its softened structure once more. You rack your mind for a reasonable answer. "I just felt like getting some fresh air. It does seem nice out, after all." Your toes tap and the wind brushes past you roughly. You know it's going take you years to know this kid fully, but you are willing to do that. He feels so open, so truthful, so down-to-earth
"As would be expected." His response is thought out and short. Right to the point. Just as he speaks, though, a kid yells his name from across the field. "I'm sorry that our conversation has to be so brisk, but come talk to me again some time, dude. You seem cool." As he walks off, you nearly run in right then. But why waste your trek outside? Isn't it nice to live every once in a while?
It was three years ago today that he noticed you
"Dylix?" Regen asks from his position on your tanned bed. There's a glitter in his eye tonight and your heart skips a beat at the softness of his facial expression. You curtly remind yourself that you're playing a dangerous game when you stare at him for a second too long or smile at him when the time isn't right. Your hands find purchase in the silken blanket that is draped over your frame before you respond.
"What is it, man?" After years of knowing him, you've picked up bits and pieces of his speech. 'Man' just so happened to be one of them. Swiftly, you get up to stoke the fire, waiting for his words to succumb you to whatever question he may dare to ask. You assume that he'll ask you to fetch him a glass of water or juice, but seeing as his tone has changed and he has set his book down, you don't think twice before eliminating that option.
Regen's eyes avoid yours. Best friends forever, you had told him not even two months ago. Is he hiding something from you? You can't help but let your mind wonder.
"What is love?"
His words shatter the thin air like knives to a piece of sweet ham. A gasp witholds itself deep inside your throat. This is not the time or place to let yourself go. You feel it's best to explain to him that cherished feeling; after all, wasn't it all due to him that you knew?
"Love," you start, "Is like somebody taking your sweets from your lunch pail everyday, but you not moving where you keep them." As if that weren't an adequate enough explanation, you decide to take it into more detail. "It's like looking at somebody and every inch of you wanting to get to know them better, wanting to keep them to yourself, wanting them to have what's best for them." You blow a strand of hair out of your eyes before reaching for the book he set down and opening it up to his saved page. Act like nothing happened, you plead to yourself internally. You feel like you've dropped the mic, but you don't care one bit.
"What kind of book is this?" You say with a tone of mock. The words on the page bleed together in streams of speech and you lose yourself in the complex diction and phrasing. It's intimidating but you wouldn't let him know that. Setting down the blue-spined book with grey-scale clouds lining it, you chuckle softly. Little did you know, he was watching you the entire time, lost in your words and your phrasing. It's seems to be that he likes to read you the most.
It was a year and a half ago today that you both noticed each other.
"Dylix?" Regen asks from his position on your tanned bed. There's a glitter in his eye tonight and your heart skips a beat at the softness of his facial expression. You curtly remind yourself that you're playing a dangerous game when you stare at him for a second too long or smile at him when the time isn't right. Your hands find purchase in the silken blanket that is draped over your frame before you respond.
"What is it, man?" After years of knowing him, you've picked up bits and pieces of his speech. 'Man' just so happened to be one of them. Swiftly, you get up to stoke the fire, waiting for his words to succumb you to whatever question he may dare to ask. You assume that he'll ask you to fetch him a glass of water or juice, but seeing as his tone has changed and he has set his book down, you don't think twice before eliminating that option.
Regen's eyes avoid yours. Best friends forever, you had told him not even two months ago. Is he hiding something from you? You can't help but let your mind wonder.
"What is love?"
His words shatter the thin air like knives to a piece of sweet ham. A gasp witholds itself deep inside your throat. This is not the time or place to let yourself go. You feel it's best to explain to him that cherished feeling; after all, wasn't it all due to him that you knew?
"Love," you start, "Is like somebody taking your sweets from your lunch pail everyday, but you not moving where you keep them." As if that weren't an adequate enough explanation, you decide to take it into more detail. "It's like looking at somebody and every inch of you wanting to get to know them better, wanting to keep them to yourself, wanting them to have what's best for them." You blow a strand of hair out of your eyes before reaching for the book he set down and opening it up to his saved page. Act like nothing happened, you plead to yourself internally. You feel like you've dropped the mic, but you don't care one bit.
"What kind of book is this?" You say with a tone of mock. The words on the page bleed together in streams of speech and you lose yourself in the complex diction and phrasing. It's intimidating but you wouldn't let him know that. Setting down the blue-spined book with grey-scale clouds lining it, you chuckle softly. Little did you know, he was watching you the entire time, lost in your words and your phrasing. It's seems to be that he likes to read you the most.
It was a year and a half ago today that you both noticed each other.
The brisk summer breeze overwhelms you as you sit on the front porch of your house. Regen's beside you, whistling a tune to a song you've known since you were a child. Your foot keeps his tempo and each shrill note fills gives you that nostalgia that you crave. The melody tumbles out of your lips like your first steps and it feels like you can see the past in front of you, a pathway into another world.
Soon enough, you are trailing off and he is, too. In the distance, a bird repeats the tune like call-and-response. You can't help but
feel like a leader when that happens, a sense of seniority flooding through you like a ray of sun.
"Regen, did you bring out the water?" You have to admit; even the strongest of heroes get thirsty after a battle. Lips chapped yet smile upon face, you gladly take the bottle from him when he hands it to you. "Thanks." you say before taking a drink, filling your mouth with the liquid, and leaving it to take its course through your body. Your body was a temple and a pure temple, at that.
Once you are done with your drink, you set it beside you and admire the sunset. Golds and pinks and oranges mix together like an egg on the horizon. It's hardly breath-taking, yet it still fills you with a sense of serenity. You'd hate to be a sap, but the thought of sharing this moment with your obviously best friend makes you shiver. It's like scene in play or book; nearly too good to be true.
Somewhere beside you, Regen begins to shuffle. It takes a minute to settle down once more and once he does, you turn to look at him. He seems like he's on the verge of saying something.
"Remember when you told me what love was?" His eyes long for the distance. They avoid you again, just like they did that day in your bedroom. "I think I know what it feels like now." You silently wonder to yourself who the lucky girl is. She must be pretty with long golden hair, like the thread on his clothes. You've accepted it by now, that your best friend can get married, but it still feels new to you and a vague emptiness fills you emotionally.
After a moment of sheer silence, he turns to meet your glance. "It's noticing the small things when nobody else does." He smiles softly and looks down to the ground in a way that reminds you of when he sews you clothing on his bedside table. "Every thought passing your mind pertaining to them and their likeness." His face is slightly closer to yours at this point and you turn away for a moment, having your turn to gaze at the sky in a peculiar way. This girl must mean a lot to him, then, if she's all that he says she is.
"It's giving them what they need and what they want, like water on a hot summer evening." His words have trailed into a whisper at this point and you let out a muted gasp. Your eyes meet his and you know now that no girl has a place in his heart.
Soon enough, you are trailing off and he is, too. In the distance, a bird repeats the tune like call-and-response. You can't help but
feel like a leader when that happens, a sense of seniority flooding through you like a ray of sun.
"Regen, did you bring out the water?" You have to admit; even the strongest of heroes get thirsty after a battle. Lips chapped yet smile upon face, you gladly take the bottle from him when he hands it to you. "Thanks." you say before taking a drink, filling your mouth with the liquid, and leaving it to take its course through your body. Your body was a temple and a pure temple, at that.
Once you are done with your drink, you set it beside you and admire the sunset. Golds and pinks and oranges mix together like an egg on the horizon. It's hardly breath-taking, yet it still fills you with a sense of serenity. You'd hate to be a sap, but the thought of sharing this moment with your obviously best friend makes you shiver. It's like scene in play or book; nearly too good to be true.
Somewhere beside you, Regen begins to shuffle. It takes a minute to settle down once more and once he does, you turn to look at him. He seems like he's on the verge of saying something.
"Remember when you told me what love was?" His eyes long for the distance. They avoid you again, just like they did that day in your bedroom. "I think I know what it feels like now." You silently wonder to yourself who the lucky girl is. She must be pretty with long golden hair, like the thread on his clothes. You've accepted it by now, that your best friend can get married, but it still feels new to you and a vague emptiness fills you emotionally.
After a moment of sheer silence, he turns to meet your glance. "It's noticing the small things when nobody else does." He smiles softly and looks down to the ground in a way that reminds you of when he sews you clothing on his bedside table. "Every thought passing your mind pertaining to them and their likeness." His face is slightly closer to yours at this point and you turn away for a moment, having your turn to gaze at the sky in a peculiar way. This girl must mean a lot to him, then, if she's all that he says she is.
"It's giving them what they need and what they want, like water on a hot summer evening." His words have trailed into a whisper at this point and you let out a muted gasp. Your eyes meet his and you know now that no girl has a place in his heart.
You kiss.
Today is the day that the rest of your life starts. It is the youngest you ever will be and the oldest you ever have been and as you grab your backpack from its place behind the door, you feel like going outside to talk to that mysterious boy wasn't such a bad idea after all.
Your name is Dylix Morte Vita and your only goal in life is to find love and it seems that you've found it.
Or at least what you can manage in a such a sadistic place like the country of Panem.
Fin
Word Count: 1743
Today is the day that the rest of your life starts. It is the youngest you ever will be and the oldest you ever have been and as you grab your backpack from its place behind the door, you feel like going outside to talk to that mysterious boy wasn't such a bad idea after all.
Your name is Dylix Morte Vita and your only goal in life is to find love and it seems that you've found it.
Or at least what you can manage in a such a sadistic place like the country of Panem.
Fin
Word Count: 1743
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