11-29-2016, 10:49 PM
I hit the ground with a heavy thump, probably caused by something in me breaking. I don’t want to know what. I don’t have it in me to even try breaking my fall, so I don’t. My body crumples weakly to the ground, arms sprawled out at either side.
My face feels hot and my vision starts to blur. Trying to breathe starts to feel funny, and muscles all over my face start to twitch.
My whole body follows. I try to stand, but my limbs only seem to respond by curling me into a snivelling, snotty, teary, bloody and sweaty ball. Nothing wants to respond. Everything feels either strange, broken or horribly pained, or some combination of the three. I… don’t think I can name a part of my body that isn’t damaged to what seems like a point beyond repair.
Why did I do this?
I’m outclassed. It’s blatantly, painstakingly clear now. The proof isn’t just in the pudding - it’s in the electrical burns, the bloody cuts, the blackened bruises, the smoking bullet holes… everywhere. I had no hope in Hell of winning today.
My body is broken. I’ve lost.
...In that moment, something comes to me. Distant sounds of awful squeaking noises, mixed in with some incredibly simple melody. Through my mind’s eye I see… a face, like my own, but older. Faintly smiling as it watches intently.
The song stops, and for a moment, what looks like a violin passes my line of sight. You’ll get it, goes a voice even more like my own than the face was. Just keep working at it. And remember…
...I can’t see clearly. I hear another sniffle. It’s… high-pitched and a little squeaky. I sound like I did a few hours ago. I sound like a child.
...You’re not gonna get it perfect the first time.
I can’t help but smile a little, myself, as I hear her repeat, just keep working at it. I’m proud of you.
“Can’t give up yet,” I puff, my voice wavering. With my torn jacket sleeve I rub my eyes dry, maneuvering my now-limp left arm with my right. “Gotta keep going…”
Him. Where this all began. His sword. It was important to her. I don’t know how, but it was. And after I do in the aluminum wall between me and it… it’s mine. I don’t care what it takes. I’m getting a hold of that thing if it kills me.
“No more interruptions!”
“No,” I hiss. If I had even half my brain left intact right now, I’d know how cheesy I’m being as I say, “One more.” At that, I leap back.
“Trace on,” I whisper, calling Kanshou and Bakuya to my sides. The next instant I leap forward. As I whistle through the air, my body begs me to simply give into the pressure being exerted on my body - to just let myself fall over again and maybe have a bit of a nap…
...Which must be what this tin-can motherfucker reads from me as I fly beneath his arm and skid to a stop in front of the bugger that started this fight in the first place. “Cheers,” I breathe before I blink backwards, backflip and send both my blades crashing into either side of my true opponent’s head - the metal prick that thought it was a good idea to throw me! “Dual Comet Strike!”
As my last breath - used perhaps unwisely to shout an improvised special move name - escapes my lungs, my eyes turn to the ground. Though I haven’t left it for even a proper second, it seems eager to meet me again… and I still don’t have the energy to break my fall.
...But somebody else does. I tilt my head shakily to whoever’s holding me. There’s an arm at my back and under my knees, and they seem to belong to the same person who caught me before. At least, I think so. It’s a bit hard to tell.
Is he… smiling? Or is he saying something…?
My last proper thought before everything goes out of focus is, by all rights, I shouldn’t have been able to pull that off… whatever that was.
“I…”
“...think I need a nap…”
My face feels hot and my vision starts to blur. Trying to breathe starts to feel funny, and muscles all over my face start to twitch.
My whole body follows. I try to stand, but my limbs only seem to respond by curling me into a snivelling, snotty, teary, bloody and sweaty ball. Nothing wants to respond. Everything feels either strange, broken or horribly pained, or some combination of the three. I… don’t think I can name a part of my body that isn’t damaged to what seems like a point beyond repair.
Why did I do this?
I’m outclassed. It’s blatantly, painstakingly clear now. The proof isn’t just in the pudding - it’s in the electrical burns, the bloody cuts, the blackened bruises, the smoking bullet holes… everywhere. I had no hope in Hell of winning today.
My body is broken. I’ve lost.
...In that moment, something comes to me. Distant sounds of awful squeaking noises, mixed in with some incredibly simple melody. Through my mind’s eye I see… a face, like my own, but older. Faintly smiling as it watches intently.
The song stops, and for a moment, what looks like a violin passes my line of sight. You’ll get it, goes a voice even more like my own than the face was. Just keep working at it. And remember…
...I can’t see clearly. I hear another sniffle. It’s… high-pitched and a little squeaky. I sound like I did a few hours ago. I sound like a child.
...You’re not gonna get it perfect the first time.
I can’t help but smile a little, myself, as I hear her repeat, just keep working at it. I’m proud of you.
“Can’t give up yet,” I puff, my voice wavering. With my torn jacket sleeve I rub my eyes dry, maneuvering my now-limp left arm with my right. “Gotta keep going…”
Him. Where this all began. His sword. It was important to her. I don’t know how, but it was. And after I do in the aluminum wall between me and it… it’s mine. I don’t care what it takes. I’m getting a hold of that thing if it kills me.
“No more interruptions!”
“No,” I hiss. If I had even half my brain left intact right now, I’d know how cheesy I’m being as I say, “One more.” At that, I leap back.
“Trace on,” I whisper, calling Kanshou and Bakuya to my sides. The next instant I leap forward. As I whistle through the air, my body begs me to simply give into the pressure being exerted on my body - to just let myself fall over again and maybe have a bit of a nap…
...Which must be what this tin-can motherfucker reads from me as I fly beneath his arm and skid to a stop in front of the bugger that started this fight in the first place. “Cheers,” I breathe before I blink backwards, backflip and send both my blades crashing into either side of my true opponent’s head - the metal prick that thought it was a good idea to throw me! “Dual Comet Strike!”
As my last breath - used perhaps unwisely to shout an improvised special move name - escapes my lungs, my eyes turn to the ground. Though I haven’t left it for even a proper second, it seems eager to meet me again… and I still don’t have the energy to break my fall.
...But somebody else does. I tilt my head shakily to whoever’s holding me. There’s an arm at my back and under my knees, and they seem to belong to the same person who caught me before. At least, I think so. It’s a bit hard to tell.
Is he… smiling? Or is he saying something…?
My last proper thought before everything goes out of focus is, by all rights, I shouldn’t have been able to pull that off… whatever that was.
“I…”
“...think I need a nap…”
Quote:I'D LOVE TO WRITE IN QUOTES WHAT I DID BUT THE PERSON AFTER ME IS PRESSED FOR TIIIIIIIME
705 words according to Google Docs.
GOOD LUCK 'CAUSE I THINK I'LL NEED IT