"It's like you never had wings..." (NoC RP#1)
Jul 19, 2023 15:00:58 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Steve Awesome, and 4 more like this
Post by bloodiedfox on Jul 19, 2023 15:00:58 GMT -5
“Change”
So much baggage for one word of six letters.
It is feared. It is cursed. It is mourned.
But it is inevitable.
And it is glorious.
Bloodied Fox stares at the cocoon that hangs from the tree branch in front of him. Entranced, he watches as it shifts, teasing the emergence soon to come.
Life is change. The passing of one second to another a step into the future. Even our very bodies are part of it; 330 billion cells being replaced every day. We can no more stand still than we can walk on the Sun.
Yet still you decry my change.
Fox turns from the cocoon with a snort of contempt.
“Why did you have to change, Fox?”
You want to know why?
He raises his right hand into view, holding up his custom X*Crown title belt.
This is why. The old Bloodied Fox you loved when you didn’t have anyone better available could never have held this. Hell, that’s part of why you loved him! He was so nice and inoffensive and didn’t get above his station. A milquetoast little gay boy you could take home to mother when you came out so she wouldn’t disown you. Men like that don’t hold the X*Crown, even if you mouth platitudes about them deserving to.
Fox places the belt on his shoulder. Those paying close attention over his shoulder will see the cocoon begin to fall apart.
I became what I needed to be, driven by the neglect of the people who professed to care. Both the audience and my loved ones turned their backs on me, yet now they weep and wail for who I was.
He shakes his head.
As I told the wolf, too late. Far, far too late.
The cocoon falls away. A butterfly flaps its beautiful wings for the very first time.
Bloodied Fox is dead. Long live Bloodied Fox.
Perhaps drawn to the light glimmering off the gold, the butterfly silently flies over to Fox and settles on his title belt. He turns his head to look at it, smiling almost sadly.
As for what comes now? Well, I’ll leave you to ponder this question…
Fox places his left hand by the belt, and as if on command the butterfly walks onto it. Gently, he moves his hand to hold the newly unchrysalised creature before his face.
If I was willing to do what I did to someone I loved quite dearly…
He suddenly balls his hand into a fist. Pausing only for a second at the certain death of the butterfly, he lowers it to let his face be seen clearly, an emotionless mask.
…what won’t I be willing to do to the four of you?
So much baggage for one word of six letters.
It is feared. It is cursed. It is mourned.
But it is inevitable.
And it is glorious.
Bloodied Fox stares at the cocoon that hangs from the tree branch in front of him. Entranced, he watches as it shifts, teasing the emergence soon to come.
Life is change. The passing of one second to another a step into the future. Even our very bodies are part of it; 330 billion cells being replaced every day. We can no more stand still than we can walk on the Sun.
Yet still you decry my change.
Fox turns from the cocoon with a snort of contempt.
“Why did you have to change, Fox?”
“Why did you stop following the rules?”
“Why won’t you pander to us anymore?”
You want to know why?
He raises his right hand into view, holding up his custom X*Crown title belt.
This is why. The old Bloodied Fox you loved when you didn’t have anyone better available could never have held this. Hell, that’s part of why you loved him! He was so nice and inoffensive and didn’t get above his station. A milquetoast little gay boy you could take home to mother when you came out so she wouldn’t disown you. Men like that don’t hold the X*Crown, even if you mouth platitudes about them deserving to.
Fox places the belt on his shoulder. Those paying close attention over his shoulder will see the cocoon begin to fall apart.
I became what I needed to be, driven by the neglect of the people who professed to care. Both the audience and my loved ones turned their backs on me, yet now they weep and wail for who I was.
He shakes his head.
As I told the wolf, too late. Far, far too late.
The cocoon falls away. A butterfly flaps its beautiful wings for the very first time.
Bloodied Fox is dead. Long live Bloodied Fox.
Perhaps drawn to the light glimmering off the gold, the butterfly silently flies over to Fox and settles on his title belt. He turns his head to look at it, smiling almost sadly.
As for what comes now? Well, I’ll leave you to ponder this question…
Fox places his left hand by the belt, and as if on command the butterfly walks onto it. Gently, he moves his hand to hold the newly unchrysalised creature before his face.
If I was willing to do what I did to someone I loved quite dearly…
He suddenly balls his hand into a fist. Pausing only for a second at the certain death of the butterfly, he lowers it to let his face be seen clearly, an emotionless mask.
…what won’t I be willing to do to the four of you?