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hm.
( at some point, within this treacherous path he’s taken, it had all been taken, adopted, internalized — this wretched frustrations whose flames will not . . . 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 succumb to even the wind’s monstrous howls. &. yet, it’s terrifying, )
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others that might see a dishonored swordsman as a man, once again.
( hesitation apparent in his voice, he only offers a slow, but firm shake of the head. )
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( the past, ever so cruel with its gaping maw &. bared incisors, would find ways to bite down on what one would believe to be wounds that have fully healed — scars unwillingly reopened with the might of one ferocious bite, or bit by it cut open by the most minute )
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many of those in ionia still hold contempt in their eyes when they look at me. but . . . look, don’t worry about it. don’t worry about me. i’ve dealt with this burden for many years; whether i find my way back to the path matters not.
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