length of life || depth of life [sitka]

[wisteria]

Life. Is it as worthless as it seems? Life, liberty, and happiness was supposed to be for everyone. It seems not. What is the point of something, like life, if you can't have it anyway? Does life itself try to kill you? That seems so. Hatred and so many unfathomable distempers and happenings, all leading up to one certain rogue in the world. A lone fae; Wisteria Everlight. A name that seems so bright, and even perky, but of coarse not, no. Family, friends, and life. It all abandoned her, left her to die in a bottomless pit of hell.

Life. It was what others call a gift; how could it be called such a word!? When something or someone leaves you to live alone, sad, and lonely. When something leaves you to die. Then what is worth living for? Is nothing worth anything any more? Can no one, even a simple, once happy, femme live a peaceful, undisturbed life? The past proves not.

Liberty. Doesn't everyone deserve what they want, deserve freedom? When others abuse you, take away your right to do anything. Something simple, just like speaking, saying someone's name, or even moving, all taken away from you. Doesn't it just make life even more worthless? If you have no rights, if you've got not life, you have something left to live for right!? The past proves not.

Happiness. One of the most important of all, and none remains. Cheer, glee, delight, is instead replaced with sorrow, misery, and pain. Nothing is worse than having nothing but yourself, if even that. Nothing is worse than being taken away from everything else, including friends, family, enemies, and even the earth. Nothing is worse than having life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness all stolen from you, especially if there's nothing you can do about it.

But, once you've lived, actually lived a hard, rough, and dangerous life, you know whats in stock when you've nothing left. Wisteria, just a young lone fae, seems to have all the information about what is in store for you if that happens. For, her past reads all of the spoken facts. Life, liberty, and happiness no longer exist in her world. Whether her world contains any life or movement, no one knows, but one thing is certain. And that is this: Wisteria Everlight undoubtedly hates life.

Short flashbacks soared through the she-cat's mind, her violet orbs wide as she relived her past in the present. It was as clear as it had been at the exact moment, like it was really happening, and Wisteria was back as a kitten. But it wasn't so. She looked into the picture, a large female tabby cat with a very round stomach, it must have been the mother. Not far off was a muscular ebony tom, his feirce golden eyes, unmoving, as if his body were completely still. Through the round eyes she saw, and not all of it was pleseant. She watched her mother give birth, watched as each of Wisteria's siblings were born, and then lastly, herself.

Of coarse, being the runt, Wisteria was pushed around, called names, and forgotten. She was the forgotten kit, which is how she became the way she is. The abuse she received, the unequality of herself and her other sisters, it just wasn't fair, wasn't right. Her family was sick and masochistic, undeserving of such a wonderful life. Wisteria sped up the replay, and it skipped to when she had run away, tears streaming down her already tearstainded face. Her normally beautiful violet opts, had become a sick watery pink, and they were very dry, even though she still shed tears.

The every so clear images faded to blurry nothingness as Wisteria's orbs filled up with salty water. It poured down her face, leaving a fresh streak where her old scars still remained. Although she hadn't shed a tear, or even thought about this for awhile now, her elder tear streaks never faded. The crusted brown still remained on her face today, for Wisteria hadn't cared much for how she looked for the past few weeks. The tears had to stop at some point, which is how she thought of it. So, just like Wisteria had, how ever long ago it was, she stopped it now as well. With a single forpaw, she reached up and wiped off the salty water that lay on her cheek. No more did tears fall; they had all stopped. Only now did the marroon tabby reopen her eyes. It was like a fairytale, like she should have gasped at how much she'd forgotten about whhere she was. But they she lay, not even a stunned look on her mask as she stared at the unfamiliar land, the dirty brick rode flowing endlessly through the grassland.

Word Count;; 800
Muse;; above average
Comments;; sorry, she's had a rough life, kinda emo...

[sitka]

Paws scraped against the rough gravel of a long paved road. A brown tom was making his way to nowhere in particular. His mind was soaring through distant thoughts, some bleak, others much more charishable. His breathing kept time with his with rythmic pace as he trotted further down the path. He yearned for the feel of grass underpaw as the gravel scraped at his raw pads.

To distract himself from the sharp pain, he concentrated on his thoughts. They ranged from the terrible time he had spent when he first escaped his humans, a rainy day when tires screamed in protest as they were being forced to stop-he shuddered-and then recovering and running off to get his first real taste of freedom. His mind lingered on that as he walked further. There were no words to describe what freedom felt like. It was like a huge weight being lifted from his shoulders, suffecating chains dropping and feeling the inexplicable relief of their absence, or less dramaticaly, getting to drink cool water after days of being parched. It was simply amazing.

A pink nose lifted to take in the air. There was an unfamiar scent wafting through Sitka's nostrils. He parted his jaws to get the full taste of the bizzare smell. He realized it was another cat. His green eyes narrowed in speculation, as his paws stopped in their path. He continued on more warily recalling past encounters with hostile felines. Claws slashing, teeth snapping, blood spilling, and of coarse endless yowls of pain and anger. He hoped this cat would not be one to fight. But regardless, he flexed his muscles and unsheethed his piercing claws. Getting the feel of his shear strenghth was reassuring. It felt good to know that he had expiriance in the field of fighting and knowing that his rival didn't stand a chance. Maybe. Hopefully.

He moved quieltly and precisly, placing each paw lightly on the ground while his eyes worked to take in his surroundings and his ears swiveled around to catch even the slightest of sounds in case he had been spotted. His mind worked over defensive maneuvers as he calculated how he would attack during whatever circumstances. He decided that unless he was spotted first, which would ruin his plan, he would stick to the element of surpirse hoping to attack before his rival was ready for him. Perfect. Now to locate exactly where this cat was. His senses worked to figure out the placement of the feline who would soon know the true meaning of pain. He soon spotted the cat not too far down the road.

At last he closed in the distance seperating him from his possible opponant. He realized he hadn't been detected yet since luck was with him and the wind was blowing towards him. Sitka was still a few paces behind where the cat sat, but he could clearly make out what the feline looked like.

Suddenly, the entire outlook changed. This was a she-cat who was obviously suffering. Though her back was facing Sitka, he could tell that she was in no state of contentment. Her fur was unkempt and ruffled and her slight shoulders seemed to sag down. He recognized her appearance for he had once looked this way. Back when life ceased to have a purpose for him. And suddenly, Sitka was desperate to give this cat a reason, no-matter what her situation was.

"Sitka Fallenleaf knows well what it is to suffer. He knows what it's like to hurt and feel like the only way to escape the pain is death. But by giving in to the darkness, you're quiting life. They say don't turn you're back on the world, but what if it was the world who turned its back on you? Then you keep trying. You show the world that it has nothing on you. That you aren't giving up yet. He's learned what it means to fight back and live."

He thought about that some more. What had happened to her? Had she been decieved or let down? Was her life a living hell just like his used to be? Did she lose someone? Or was she simply recovering from a fight? So much could have put her life into such turmoil. And little could be done to restore it if she was truly tramatized. But someone had to try. And no-one else was around to do so.

Little time had passed as he thought this all out. Sitka was still frozen in place deciding on how to approach the female. He let out a wordless meow just to get her attention. To let her know that she was not alone.


Word Count: 811

[wisteria]

Although the fae heard the brutes meow, she didn't turn her head, didn't move a whisker, or even shift her paws. It was as if nothing had happened. As if, it was just the wind soaring by, blowing through her fur with careless speed and wonder. The world had turned against her; this helpless, scared, and desperate cat who was in need of help.

She lifted her head up, a breeze blew by, carrying a sweet aroma along with it. She let herself relax, and enjoy the fruity smell for that second. It was over too soon, and afterwards she was back to her old self. She opened her seemingly glued eyes, the violet gleeming orbs stared right into the vivid green. Who're you...? Her voice was emotionless, you couldn't even tell if there was stress. It was as quiet as the wind through the air, but to her, it pounded through her head, and it hurt her eyes to keep them open any longer. But she forced them; not letting herself get pushed around any longer. A simple mvement, just a paw layed down, and then another followed. Soon she was up, on all four of her feet. Although her eyes were yet to be filled with any simple emotion, she moved on. Not knowing where, but somewhere.

Maybe it was to hell, maybe it was to heaven. Wisteria didn't exactly know which way she was going. She'd done nothing to harm the earth, yet eveerything seemed to be blamed on her. Maybe she'd talk to this fellow, maybe he could help her. No, it'd be a waste of time. She could move on in her life, maybe go live in a forest, or by a stream. Something in her life could change, right? Wrong. If life was as worthless as it seemed, then nothing could happen. She couldn't move, could speak, could blink. But she had... She had just spoken, to whom? The brute. Or had she imagined it? What had she said? Was it to leave? She hoped not. She wanted to speak with him... maybe.

She remembered now. She'd asked him who he was. To name himself. What if he didn't have a name...? Could the world really be that selfish to have an unnamed being among it? No, this cat would have a name. There is no one on earth who didn't have a name, she was sure of it; although she'd barrely even met anyone.

She turned her view on him again. He looked familiar, but she was sure they'd never met before. Who did he look like? Altough the green eyes had no resemblance, for the one she was thinking of had purple eyes. That's it. It was her. He looked strangely similar to her own coat. The marroon body, and thick black zigzags down the flanks. How had she not known he looked like her...? When was the last time she'd seen herself? She couldn't remember... Maybe it was when she looked down into the water bowl? But that couldn't be possible... There was never even any water in the bowl at her house. EXhouse.

She left that out of her mind, she wandered off from it, but left it where it was to review it again later. She went back to the brute. Where was he from? ANd what did he want from her? All of these questions were required, before she spoke any more to this stranger. He was no harm to her, no one was, but she had to know. Who are you? She asked again, this time with a slightly different accent.

Word Count;; 603
Muse;; slightly more than average
Comments;; sorry for the wait...

[sitka]

EMO

To all of those who live to die, whose life
is all they have to give
Just know that when the time has come,
you'll think: Man, I'd die to live
To all of those who cry at night and keep
wishing it'll be alright
Just know that life isn't meant to be thrown away;
you won't get another day
To all of those who cut to feel
Just know: Not everything will always heal
To all of those who think: Why me?
Just know that isn't the way things have to be
To all of those who've given up, who've quit
Just know that someday very soon your
darkness will be lit
There's a reason for your heart to pound,
and one day you'll be found
Lost always has a partner,
Things will stop getting harder.

The eyes. They opened. But from the life they lacked, it wouldn't have made a difference if they had stayed closed. Who was this cat? Why did she appear dead even while breathing? How could she still be living? She had obviously suffered way too much to still be clinging to life. But maybe it was the opposite. Maybe she wanted to let go already, to die. But her life wouldn't give her what she wanted, so it still held on to her, willing her to suffer more and to endure more pain. It wasn't fair. But it also wasn't fair to quit. She just had to see that there was some good in life before she left the world one day for good.

The voice. It sounded. Barely. It was empty, lifeless. It was the sound of lungs and vocal cords forcing themselves to exert just enough energy to let loose words that they dreaded to speak. It was the sound of dry wind blowing in a bare pathway with nothing to block the sound. No trees to sway, no leaves to rusltle. Just bare open ground. Eventually the sound faded into the distance, where no-one would ever hear it.

There are some things that I tried to say,
but my breath was wasted,
the words faded away.

For a moment, Sitka thought he had imagined the windy voice, and he simply stared at the she-cat. She didn't seem to be expecting an answer, so maybe he had imagined it. He kept waiting for some reaction from her. But nothing came. The cat before him seemed to be having a hard time just forcing her body to perform its regular functions. "How can I help?" he whispered, but she did not react. It was as if she hadn't heard him speak. As if he were talking to a corpse.

His eyes couldn't focus anywhere else. His senses wouldn't range out to find out what was going on in the world around him. All he could do was stare at this unfortunate cat. His mind couldn't process anything else except for the obvious fact that she was in pain. That she needed help. That she needed life. Sitka had never felt a such strong devotion towards anything before. Not when his life balanced on the edge of a knife-no matter which way he fell, he was going to get cut-not when he wanted to break free of his old life, not ever. Until now. He had to get this cat to see that life had a meaning. That you didn't live just to feel pain. Life could get so much better than this, and he was going to prove it to her. Just then, she spoke again. The words were still wind-like, but there was more....more reason to them. "Who are you?" she asked. Those three words were simple and yet they were so much more. She was trying to give herself a reason. "I'm Sitka Fallenleaf."

HEAL

Red seeping through,
the world's cruel to you.
Hand holding blade,
the hurt starts to fade.
Overcoming pian,
falling scarlet rain.
Eyes blankly staring,
no-one is caring.
The dark takes you in,
let the relief begin.
No reason to fight,
there's no longer light.
You need a way out,
and yet you don't shout.
You still hold it inside,
except when you've cried.
Nothing seems real,
just that sharp relieving feel.
You want something better,
but your eyes just get wetter.
A sudden realization,
a different sensation.
Holding in the ache,
what good does that make?
Keeping them away,
consider it betray.
They know you're there,
you realize they care.
Still not okay,
but well on the way.
The dim ghost of hope,
is there in your eyes.
You start to forget,
about all the lies.
Instead you remember,
not to surrender.
The knife drops to the floor,
your wrists now feel sore.
It's from this exact moment,
you decide to quit.
Because now you know it,
there's lives YOU'VE lit.

Word count: 746

[wisteria]

Her gaze swept over to view at the surprisingly vivid gree eyes. They were full of confusion, but also fear, and something else, was it excitement? What did that brute think of her? She didn't blink, and only kept staring at him, as if digging into his eyes and finding the truth hidden away.

[not finished]