#（ ☼ ）𝙸𝙲 ∣ carve your own fate .

[synthwealth]

[ Q ] :  ❝ that’s as close to an apology as you’re gonna get. ❞

  ❛ Yeah, didn't expect one anyway, ❜ not quite bitter, but exasperated without doubt. darling phoenix has learned early on : apologies are in short supply amidst humanity. how disappointing then, of the cosmos to send them one who is so very alike in that department. a temperamental pride demands she complain, but self-preservation prefer she not get shot on this day.

  this is not her problem, it really is not. ( it shouldn't be. ) let the weirdos over at area 51 deal with whatever this— he is. dearest prodigy painstakingly buries the part of her that has been acting as though littlest child in candy story regarding the not-quite-news of aliens being real. ( of course they are — the probability has always been in their favour. )

   ❛ Just— ❜ a pause / lungs filled with generous breath to expel blazing attitude through careful exhale, though little help it is, and deft fingers begin undoing tousled braid to keep themselves busy. ❛ When Uncle Sam inevitably comes for your extraterrestrial ass ❜ — a furrow of her brows and an annoyed frown — ❛ I don't know you, 'kay ? thanks. ❜

— SENTENCE PROMPT / @arkvoodlee

[synthwealth]

"the less you know, the better." / im forcewriting with u rn

  ❛ better for you, I'm sure, ❜ impulsive and bitter, with nay care for upholding decorum. a child born amidst high society knows not to speak as freely in the face of authority as the fire in her veins demands, yet still does temper bristle ‘neath the surface and settle ‘pon sharp features under the guise of naught but slight annoyance. a better part of her recoils at such lack of restraint, but propriety has little strength against the indignation that fuels a bird who has long begun to fight for others. 

  ❛ all due respect, commissioner — ❜ little though it is, in this moment ❛ — ignorance is what gets people killed. ❜ a pause, hands occupying themselves with adjusting braided hair — tug at itching strands / tighten the band — while nerves settle. and then, quiet, nearly muttered under her breath : ❛ but I’m sure you know that, well-informed as you are. ❜ 

SENTENCE PROMPT / @kangai

[synthwealth]

The familiar sound of a shot ringing out, cracking through the sound of the wind howling o’er the crest of the town, seemingly chasing the wind. There was no law or god here, nothing but the bed of his boot upon the back of her neck. Kicks her off his chain and to the floor, a low rattling chuckle escaping him. Yet leaves little time for any moment of reprieve before he bashes the butt of the rifle into her face, ‘fore those lips earned her more fire n’ venom than she could reconcile. “ told you i’d see you hang for it, girl. i told you. ”

  someone told her — or perhaps she read it somewhere : once you cease to flinch at the horrors of the world, that is when you know something inside of you is broken. when you witness all that is wrong with the system — people made victim as much as they are the perpetrator — and you are accosted by neither terror nor sorrow. it merely passes you by like any stranger on the street; a life with so many variables and secrets, a depth unknown, gone in a blink. an existence acknowledged but never explored.

  because there is nothing more for you to explore, you have seen it all. 

  so bold a claim, riddled with circumstance and dramatics, yet so easy to make in an unholy place of repetition. little bird tells herself all this torment has gotten easier to handle, and perhaps she has adapted to it as humanity is wont to do when faced with obstacles, but that does not stop the tears or the agony. the flaring of nerves; the searing pain of wrong, wrong, wrong scorching her body in a warning come much too late. ( there is no recovering from this )

you do not hear the scream leaving your lungs, only the blood rushing in your ears. metal tears your flesh not once, but twice. the cold, hard ground meets you just the same as a blunt force does your face before impulsive attitude has time to make light of the situation; to taunt one whose attention you already have. ( accustomed to trauma, you goad its ire to spare others : what a selfless tragedy you are. but nothing new, is it ? )

  even now, a prodigy born into wealth struggles to recognize how marred a spirit and soul had been long before dreadful fog swallowed her whole. excuse after excuse — they did not mean it. such a clever thing, yet merely a child in the face of own psyche. how easy a distraction then, the physical torture. simple and straightforward. much clearer shades of black and white, painting pictures with lines perceived so easily. 

  but right now, the world is blurred. she can no longer tell what are her tears and what is the blood seeping through torn guts and cracked bone. it is haunting to feel the fresh air on parts of your anatomy that should never experience such sensations in the first place, but what is perhaps more horrifying is the familiarity.

  this is not the first time dearest phoenix had her innards torn to shreds and exposed to the outside world, and it will not be the last.  

  pride demands she responds with a quip despite it all, to put the fire in her lungs to use, but all that she has left is blood. again clever lips part, and from them comes naught but a wretched, hacking cough, spilling the scarlet ichor shackling her to consciousness.

  selfless little bird knew this was coming; was counting on it, like every other time. sacrificial lamb to slaughter, she takes comfort in the time she steals from wicked hunter and gives to her fellow sheep.

  and a part of her wants to apologize. her sentiment was genuine, it truly was. ( in another time, she would have loved to hear Caleb Quinn speak of his inventions ) the venom spat in heated moments is but a tool, a chain, to reel in a man with enough pride to take the bait. she knows the type — glances it in reflective surfaces time and again. and when dying lamb looks up at its butcher, this hunter amidst cruel entity's game, something soft lingers amidst hues of honey; something so very tired and defeated.

  but it disappears soon enough, when the familiar sound of an old, decrepit gate sparking to life echoes across their dark playground.

you have nothing left in you. the thread keeping you on this plane finally snaps and all you have left to give before darkness takes you is the same smug smile that has gotten you into this mess — and your last breath.

  ❛ Gotcha. ❜

UNPROMPTED (PREVIOUS) / @dcthslinger

[synthwealth]

❝ everyone comes across someone who will better them someday. ❞ from helreginn!

  unbidden escapes a huff, dancing 'pon notes of amusement.

  like you, comes a thought. the first, impulsive thought. a phoenix forged from prideful fire thinks it much too sentimental for her taste; too tender and fragile to survive if allowed to blossom. ( she never had that green of a thumb ) but she acknowledges it, no longer burying it 'neath a mountain of denial like she had done in the early days, before either pure coincidence or a strange fate would see her a part of this world's history.

  truth be told, even as vehemently against the idea of pre-ordained paths and foretold destinies as this Garlean prodigy is, present company makes it difficult not to chip at such beliefs time and again. hero and saviour, champion of hydaelyn and bearer of crystals — will they ever run out of titles for him ? if coincidence is not at fault, surely it is skill and perseverance.

  perhaps she will forever accredit his achievements to experience and conviction, as opposed to a tapestry woven by fate, but regardless of what lead her to leave footprints along his path, darling phoenix is thankful for it. because it has changed her — possibly saved her, even. ( she dares not think of what own homeland would use her skills for )

  like you, sings the heart of a companion who ne'er thought to remain for so long, yet still the softness required to voice such melody eludes her. instead, buried fondness mingles with an all too familiar humor, softened though its edges and gentle her smile. ( there is no pride here. ) ❛ You're welcome.❜

SENTENCE PROMPT / ACCEPTING !

[synthwealth]

❝ don’t fool yourself that it’s different this time. it’s never different. ❞ from lito!

  a bitter thought : has she ever sounded like this ? there was a time, not too long ago — though it certainly felt like an age — when such sentiment would perhaps settle over her with ease, perfectly at home amidst plenty of other, similarly dreadful convictions. ( back when the Empire seemed infallible and her future set in stone ) it made sense then, for a young phoenix in a golden cage devoid of change to think herself content with a path pre-ordained.

( there comes the slightest twinge of her brows and scrunch of her nose, though whether because of vaunted Warrior's words — or a freshly brewed coffee tasting wrong — is anyone's guess. )

  it all feel so ugly now — so stupid. she was a child ( still is to many, though loathe she is to admit it ), so how can an entity so much larger than life — draped in heroism and light — carry an ideal that is so... stifling ? the world is constantly changing, brimming with a potential few ever come to realize. little bird wonders, with a certain bitterness, if perhaps it is the privilege of her youth to look 'pon radiant knight and think him a pessimistic idiot.

  ❛ things only stay the same if you let them,❜ nearly incredulous comes her voice, careful to stray from mockery, but clearly baffled by the very notion that such a thing needs to be said. ❛ don't complain about an equation giving you the same result over and over,❜ a dark beverage is joined by the gentle pour of milk, colors swirling into brighter hues, ❛ if you never change the variables.❜

SENTENCE PROMPT / ACCEPTING !