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#kurapika who has literally said that he fears his rage fading out over time more than death :  sir please shut up
intransigente · 4 years
Text
@wargoer​ said :    ❝ anger fades. anger burns hot, then burns out. what’s left is a dull ache. ❞
𝐈𝐍     𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒     𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎     𝐎𝐅     𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒     ,          𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐄𝐃     𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘          &&          arduous     grief     faced     intemerate     truth     :          cold          &&          relentless     ,          a     privileged     gasp     above     catacombs          &&          intestate .               he     halts     mid     -     step     ,          gorgonized     in     an     icy     sweat .               yet     nothing     dwells     past     the     walls     of     cothurn     trees     ;          not     a     soul     unbelonging     of     a     prey     ,          trembling     like     ground     foxes     in     their     covers .          burrowed     time     and     borrowed     world     and     borrowed     eyes     with     which     to     sorrow     it .               he     forces     a     breath     ,          pushing     aside     the     tarpaulin     of     paranoia          &&          sifting     woods     to     toss     to     the     fire .                    ❝               then     you     understand     my     haste .               ❞                    chestnut     eyes     whisk     with     flame          /          𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔱     sheathed     furtively     in     elytra     ,          in     his     pulse          /          heart     swelled     by     the     faces     of     his     brethren .          
          mother     church     tells     us     if     our     dead     kin     are     sainted     we     may     pray     to     them .               she     does     not     say     if     they’ll     speak     back     ,          in     dreams     or     out .
Tumblr media
small     kaleidoscopes     of     color     burst     in     small     fans     where     the     last     rays     of     daylight     hit     the     snow     ,          elongate     then     blink     out     of     existence     again .               a     place     similar     to     this     ,          another     selva     of     dialogue     trekked     —     he     had     left     without     a     word     then     ,          without     introspect .               a     man     babbling     in     monosyllabic     tongues     behind     him .               the     implication     that     he’d     do     so     again     hangs     between     them     ,          drawn     hieratic     at     the     end     of     a     rotten     stick     into     the     snow .                    ❝               i’ll     shoulder     what     it     is     if     the     time     comes     ,          but     my     resolution     is     final .               ❞
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