The End.     ///     quartlet.

the end.     ///     quartlet.

NOTHING SURVIVES THE EVENT HORIZON,   not even the vestiges of lonely gods whose makers have all but forsaken them to The Dark.   hazy halos ripple across an ad infinitem.  glimpses of time,  of reality stretch across this speckled canvas where planets are set only to crumble and where stars shimmer only to shatter.  spaces are blinking,  they are large and vast but small and miniscule.  size cannot be deciphered here,  there are too many unthinkable places flashing in and out of existence.  

❛    AlOnE  …   ❜   a sound carries its own wavelength.  they pierce,  caress and intermingle with every overwhelming vibrato.  voices speak out in the darkness,  they giggle and scream and weep.   an amalgamation of tones brushes against another,  existing outside all living things.  only entangled limbs are seen,  reaching out from an ebbing blackness,  until pools of bronze - gold burst forth.  He laughs.   ❛   yOu ArE aLoNe.  ❜

                                DIRT UNIVERSE  / @feyquil​.

              O,     HOW THE STARS SHINE BRIGHT AMIDST CHAOS   !     to become part of universe's eternal canvas was never a thought out plan    ;    alas,     he is naught but a corrupted star guardian,     abiding by newfound orders to murder those he once deemed companions     (   were they ever friends   ?     could one so audacious to leave you to die even be bestowed such a label   ?     how utterly ludicrous is the notion   ).

              an array of colors paints this once empty canvas,     variety in its every corner,     trace of color at every turn    :    carmine stars shall shine    &    dance with stars blessed with a lilac hue,     they shall shine bright notwithstanding the battles he tirelessly fought alongside his beloved    &    zoe.     these stars have bared witness to the many times he has fallen out of mere desire to protect what seemed integral to him,     a part of him that,     indubitably,     he would feel his being to be nothing without.     xayah deserves to live.     death's icy embrace has already claimed both once,     repeated occurrences of such would only evoke dire consequences for the near future.     that's not what he wanted.

              irony embraced his person long ago,     when life's hue had been stripped from him     —————     even now,     as he breathes    &    feels at own body,     seeking a heartbeat,     a reminder of past self that felt    &    felt    &    felt,     his resolute promise remains true    :    an immutable desire to protect her.     //     a solitary mission that rejects the aid of another,     he is an actor on this lone stage,     no props around him,     no audience for him to perform for.     &    this stage is bleak,     dull,     it is a reminder of what lies at the end of his path.     it's dark,    &    he must prepare to face that alone,     for burdening her with fate's unchanging mark     ...     no point,     no point   !!!     this is a self satisfying act for the sake of another,     for life's light cannot ever be granted to him again.     he accepts it.     to live is to regain the purity of that honeyed past,     free of this darkness whose clutches is tight around them    ;    he shall free its clutches from her,      allow her to return to the light   !!     embrace this darkness that wishes to make one fall,     then it shall be him    &    him alone.     if it was all for her,     if it was all for     ————————

              ❛     huh   ?     ❜     vocalized fear slips through lips,     hands balled into clenched fists,     nails digging into skin,     as if to draw out crimson ichor,     serving as means of composing self.     refuse to show fear.     body moves,     agile    &    frightened at cacophony of voices     //     ther are not his own,     they are not his own,     theyarenothisowntheyarenothisowntheyarenothisown   !!     //     ——————     &    without hesitation,     gold bursts forth,     citrine hues fixated on celestial form before him.     TERROR.     terror itself has clutched his throat,     rendering rakan speechless,     preventing any mobility.     movement itself became a myth,     'till gift of speech was granted once more,     any hopes of composure being sought    &    gained gone,     a speck in fate's cruel shadow.     ❛     who     ———     what the hell are you   !?     ❜