𝐖𝐀𝐗 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ↷ diluc ragnvindr x reader [on hiatus]

CHAPTER SIX. A TERRIBLE DAY FOR RAIN

( CHAPTER SIX && A TERRIBLE DAY
FOR RAIN )

❝ i stopped believing in happy endings ❞

( tw. s*icide attempt and extreme depressive language that may be triggering )

—

IT WAS POURING, you observed. Raindrops splattered onto your face as you looked upwards towards the dark heavens. Observing the lines of rainfall, you breathed a quiet sigh— filling your air with the piercing cold. Your green dress grew heavy with the cast of rainfall, pooling by your feet with the wet silk. It didn't matter to you; not anymore.

Recently, you've stopped having those prophetic dreams. The ones where you would see yourself stand by the waterfall close by the winery; where you were surrounded by the broken winged-butterflies. Or the dreams of which you would see yourself flying just above the clouds, the cotton wisps of white drifting past you as fleeting freedom presented you with a glimmering sliver of what it means to be happy. It was strange— the day to day experience of childhood euphoria but when morn dawned upon the world, the fleeting reverie escaped you by just a thread. Weaving and twisting into tethers; you always suspected your fate wasn't your own to conduct.

Your wanderings of the nostalgic world woven by dreams of a naïve girl, reliving the past in a beautiful trance to where you protected yourself from the cruelty beyond. It was how you dealt with everything, to bury under a layer of childishness. To protect your inner self from the hurt through lies and deceptions you've created with your own mind.

(A girl given the entire world yet, possessed nothing in reality. It was a cold truth, bittersweet even.)

All reactions have an equal opposition, and as a result— your own self-loathing and hatred created an ego, a conscious voice that replicated your most deplorable thoughts; ones that would be seen as sins against the gods and their heavenly principles.

The gods are cruel to the mortals; toying with their servile lives as they pleased. But at some point, the torture does grow to be enough to warrant the puppets to free themselves from their marionette strings. They take that leap, jumping into the unknown in hopes of finding salvation.

Alas, at that very moment, when they leap forth for salvation, the mortal seal their fates forever.

This edict of the gods; salvation is a mere concept of falsities, barren lies to keep mankind compliant. Yet still, foolishness drives them to this end. At the pluck of their fingers, an insect who was granted the authority to soar becomes nothing more than a pest forever crawling the earth.

(You could just end it all here. Jump and allow for the waters to take you.)

From when it started, you were unsure. The voice that vocalized your worst demons, the voice that reverberated in echoes— driving you into a hole of depravity and vile thinking. Of which you knew were sins, transgressions that no mortals should ever think of.