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righteousindignation) wrote2012-12-20 05:47 pm
righteousindignation) wrote2012-12-20 05:47 pm
Entry tags:
request-magical girls and death gods
Green eyes behind glasses, add another ring and a splash of gold and you'd have eyes that mirrored her own. Green eyes and fair blonde hair, of course she has to look like that, sickeningly sweet enough to make your teeth hurt.
Grell despises it, and yet it's fitting.
Fair is the child who champions the light, the peace, while her with hair like blood burns her path through the world, leaving grey ash and black marks behind her. She knows that her decades cannot protect her now, she lacks her points-physically and metaphorically, she thinks, months still not enough time to get her accustomed to how her teeth sit now. Reapers preside over death, keep it in their grip so they do not succumb themselves, and she is the ambassador of a concept that has been suspended, facing facts and denying them because they're uncomfortable to accept.
Fuu Hououji is correct, and Grell pretends it's not a fact so she can create a version of the truth where the roles are switched. Where blood and destruction win, the lunatic moon rests in the sky and not her throat, where the truth belongs to her and not the saint she sneers at. Her words, her attitude, they are protection from reality that whispers of her being incorrect, of physical strength meaning nothing when your mind will fracture if you allow it to be shaken anymore. The saint has a body that will break but a mind that is encased in diamond-flawless, like her logic, and her strength goes beyond Grell's own.
Fighting this war is useless, as useless as it would be to throw herself in the sea and expect them not to bring her back for the game. This she has realised when she does not sleep and she views everything in true objectivity-she is wrong and Fuu is right, but she will keep that to herself for now and try to sleep without dreams for as long as she can keep up her charade.
Grell despises it, and yet it's fitting.
Fair is the child who champions the light, the peace, while her with hair like blood burns her path through the world, leaving grey ash and black marks behind her. She knows that her decades cannot protect her now, she lacks her points-physically and metaphorically, she thinks, months still not enough time to get her accustomed to how her teeth sit now. Reapers preside over death, keep it in their grip so they do not succumb themselves, and she is the ambassador of a concept that has been suspended, facing facts and denying them because they're uncomfortable to accept.
Fuu Hououji is correct, and Grell pretends it's not a fact so she can create a version of the truth where the roles are switched. Where blood and destruction win, the lunatic moon rests in the sky and not her throat, where the truth belongs to her and not the saint she sneers at. Her words, her attitude, they are protection from reality that whispers of her being incorrect, of physical strength meaning nothing when your mind will fracture if you allow it to be shaken anymore. The saint has a body that will break but a mind that is encased in diamond-flawless, like her logic, and her strength goes beyond Grell's own.
Fighting this war is useless, as useless as it would be to throw herself in the sea and expect them not to bring her back for the game. This she has realised when she does not sleep and she views everything in true objectivity-she is wrong and Fuu is right, but she will keep that to herself for now and try to sleep without dreams for as long as she can keep up her charade.