eternity_dreams

But give me more credit than that. Someone else may have dealt the hand, but I picked it up off the table; I played every card, and I had my reasons.


I don't tell people this, it's nobody's business, but the job is the nearest thing I've got to a religion. The detective's god is the truth, and you don't get much higher or much more ruthless that that. The sacrifice is anything or everything you've got, your time, your dreams, your marriage, your sanity, your life. Those are the coldest and most capricious gods of the lot, and if they accept you into their service they take not what you want to offer but what they choose.


"It's amazing, how stubbornly things survive against incredible odds; how irresistibly strong it is, the drive to live and grow...
"Time. Time works so hard for us, if only we can let it."


I had been right: freedom smelled like ozone and thunderstorms and gunpowder all at once, like snow and bonfires and cut grass; it tasted like seawater and oranges.


"A profound trauma can transform a person's entire character, you know: turn a strong person into a trembling wreck, a happy nature melancholic, a gentle one vicious. It can shatter you into a million pieces, and rearrange the remains in an utterly unrecognizable form."


"There's a Spanish proverb that's always fascinated me. 'Take what you want and pay for it, says God.' I don't believe in God, but that principle seems, to me, to have a divinity of its own; a kind of blazing purity. What could possibly be simpler, or more crucial? You can have anything you want, as long as you accept that there is a price and that you will have to pay it."


"The only people who are capable of either unfettered action or unfettered thought are those who--either because they're heroically brave, or because they're insane, or because they know themselves to be safe--are free from fear."


"Regardless of the advertising campaigns may tell us, we can't have it all. Sacrifice is not an option, or an anachronism; it's a fact of life. We all cut off our own limbs to burn on some altar. The crucial thing is to choose an altar that's worth it and a limb you can accept losing. To go consenting to the sacrifice."


"...Do you see now why I believe in miracles? I used to imagine time folding over, the shades of our future selves slipping back to the crucial moments to tap each of us on the shoulder and whisper: Look, there, look! That man, that woman: they're for you; that's your life, your future, fidgeting in that line, dripping on the carpet, shuffling in that doorway. Don't miss it. How else could such a thing have happened?
"In all my life, there are only four people I have ever loved."

From around september fifth. This was supposed to be a three part, but I haven't worked on it. So here it is.

( 321. )

Title: Sacrifical Platitudes (blood of a lamb)
Fandom: Xenosaga/Damned.
Warnings: Angst. Violence.
Word Count: 592.
Characters: Albedo, Nigredo. Albedo POV.
Notes: Prompt from psyches: "victima propiciatoria" (Spanish for propitiatory victim). Also. Vague is a fun, fun tool.

( Those pieces were so tattered now. )

Title: Uneven Scales
Fandom: Damned/Xenosaga.
Warnings: Character death.
Word Count: 1103.
Characters: Nigredo POV. Rubedo, Albedo, and Yuriev.
Notes: The quote stuck in my head.

( What you do to one side, you must do to the other. )

Title: Wonderment.
Fandom: Xenosaga.
Warnings: Null.
Word Count: 815.
Characters: Rubedo, plus.
Notes: I still attest that it's unfinished. I wanted to timeline it through the games. But I haven't touched it for over a year so here it is in all of its failtastic glory. I want to continue it... when I can. -_-;

( Sometimes... )

"The sun breaks like twilight.

Calling the moon unfaithful, giving to the light as well as the dark.

Split in two, she calls; how can we ever be as one?

How can you give your love to both?

But the sun never sees the moon to tell it this, the moon reflects the sun's rays, drowns in the sun's tears without knowing, and continues its rotations; trailing silently, sadly, after the glowing sphere all its days.

And neither knows the other's pain.

And that's the greatest loss of all."

I'll probably decode this later. It's too good not to share. It's odd to write in english at this point.

By shira_syndrome.

( Love isn’t anything like how it’s described in his novels. )

...

"Let me go Reflect, echoing my tasteless vision in one that whoso loved the world he ran away to save it.

I was always drawn to passion.

Some things look better in gray."