Post by Athena on Nov 14, 2009 17:53:20 GMT -5
There's a terrible sort of sense in the general pain of hating blood family - because life goes backwards and is never satisfied with just a heart.
And forever is only a lifetime.
There are words - delicate, lacy phrases - that never even come near her thoughts. Things like (i'm sorry) and (i love you) and (we're family) and (power isn't worth this) and (nothing is worth this). These are reprehensible, unthinkable words, words that contradict Athena's very being and are so far away that she is not even aware some people think such things. Not her - she is not one for regrets or thick, sweet, desperate emotion.
She is sharp calculation and manipulation and a lot of other numb words that end with "tion". She is ruthless - without emotions, causing pain so impersonally and sometimes very personally because she is malicious as well and she truly hates Lysander (it's not a lie, to herself or anyone else. She is good at lying, but this is one occasion when she never needs her skill).
She hates him for many reasons, and she is so used to the gaping emptiness in her chest and the slight sizzle of her soul burning away like pipe dreams that she doesn't even know that somewhere inside her head, there is a little girl in love with her big brother --
she stares at him, awed and a little afraid because his golden eyes are fierce as he glares at the son of one of the generals - and the spark of their fire is there. her brother yawns when the mean boy runs away crying, perfect little mouth forming a perfect 'O', and she finds herself making hot, horrid little promises inside: i will trainprotecthelpguide you - beautiful like my fire and you'll make me proud. she swears to become the strongest to help him, to fulfill her promises and make it where next time she is the one saving him, and she doesn't know that this will ruin them or that promises of power will become all she cares about or that she will forget who she swore to become strong for or that she will let herself die in all the ways that matter to a human. she is just a little girl, after all, and she is so easy to mold.
-- who isn't screaming, but only because Athena has never been that demonstrative; the child caresses those lost memories of caring-for-even-a-moment, her gaze brittle and hands shaky. She closes her eyes and doesn't bother to open them again after the first time Athena genuinely tries to kill Lysander. Athena doesn't notice - she is so used to the burn of her own hatred, after all - but the part of herself she swore to her brother dies in that second, and a small brightness fades and flickers before guttering out.
Athena returns to her ship after the failed attempt and only notices the shaking of her hands when she tries to take her hair ornaments down and they nearly don't land on her vanity.
This is the clash, the last ending - the final wisp of smoke. It seeps into her pores and swirls around her finger tips, spinning delicate, lacy phrases in the humidity of the air as they tremble. Things like (i'm sorry) and (i love you) and (we're family) and (power isn't worth this) and (nothing is worth this).
She stares at her elegant hands sightlessly and doesn't recognize the silent, fragile words, and the chance is lost as she closes her eyes, not realizing the way back or that there even is a way back (because she is Athena Archivist, and second chances have always been invisible to her - and it's too late anyway). She opens them again, so blank, and curls her graceful, powerful hands into fists.
The jarring sound of the mirror shattering creates a metaphor that she can see but won't acknowledge.
And forever is only a lifetime.
There are words - delicate, lacy phrases - that never even come near her thoughts. Things like (i'm sorry) and (i love you) and (we're family) and (power isn't worth this) and (nothing is worth this). These are reprehensible, unthinkable words, words that contradict Athena's very being and are so far away that she is not even aware some people think such things. Not her - she is not one for regrets or thick, sweet, desperate emotion.
She is sharp calculation and manipulation and a lot of other numb words that end with "tion". She is ruthless - without emotions, causing pain so impersonally and sometimes very personally because she is malicious as well and she truly hates Lysander (it's not a lie, to herself or anyone else. She is good at lying, but this is one occasion when she never needs her skill).
She hates him for many reasons, and she is so used to the gaping emptiness in her chest and the slight sizzle of her soul burning away like pipe dreams that she doesn't even know that somewhere inside her head, there is a little girl in love with her big brother --
she stares at him, awed and a little afraid because his golden eyes are fierce as he glares at the son of one of the generals - and the spark of their fire is there. her brother yawns when the mean boy runs away crying, perfect little mouth forming a perfect 'O', and she finds herself making hot, horrid little promises inside: i will trainprotecthelpguide you - beautiful like my fire and you'll make me proud. she swears to become the strongest to help him, to fulfill her promises and make it where next time she is the one saving him, and she doesn't know that this will ruin them or that promises of power will become all she cares about or that she will forget who she swore to become strong for or that she will let herself die in all the ways that matter to a human. she is just a little girl, after all, and she is so easy to mold.
-- who isn't screaming, but only because Athena has never been that demonstrative; the child caresses those lost memories of caring-for-even-a-moment, her gaze brittle and hands shaky. She closes her eyes and doesn't bother to open them again after the first time Athena genuinely tries to kill Lysander. Athena doesn't notice - she is so used to the burn of her own hatred, after all - but the part of herself she swore to her brother dies in that second, and a small brightness fades and flickers before guttering out.
Athena returns to her ship after the failed attempt and only notices the shaking of her hands when she tries to take her hair ornaments down and they nearly don't land on her vanity.
This is the clash, the last ending - the final wisp of smoke. It seeps into her pores and swirls around her finger tips, spinning delicate, lacy phrases in the humidity of the air as they tremble. Things like (i'm sorry) and (i love you) and (we're family) and (power isn't worth this) and (nothing is worth this).
She stares at her elegant hands sightlessly and doesn't recognize the silent, fragile words, and the chance is lost as she closes her eyes, not realizing the way back or that there even is a way back (because she is Athena Archivist, and second chances have always been invisible to her - and it's too late anyway). She opens them again, so blank, and curls her graceful, powerful hands into fists.
The jarring sound of the mirror shattering creates a metaphor that she can see but won't acknowledge.