Divinity, Unmade

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"You can't change anything if you're unwilling to discard a part of yourself

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"You can't change anything if you're unwilling to discard a part of yourself.
Change necessitates sacrifice."


Things were bad. Very bad. So bad that Five Hargreeves was convinced of some higher power mocking his desperate attempts at making things right.

The Commission was in ruins. Nothing remained of the fortress of time and instead, all he had been left with were the dusty, decrepit remains of a crumbling building and an impromptu meeting with his older, dying self. Even worse, he'd left with more questions than when he'd arrived!

What good was meeting your future self if they had nothing useful to say?

Or would he be considered a past self? Or was he older, considering Five himself was reaching his sixties...how old was the old man? Older than the previous older incarnation of him? These kinds of thoughts only made his head spin. Who knew keeping track of the multiple-dimensional versions of yourself could be so complicated?

Sometimes, Five hated time travel.

How long had the old man been hibernating in that high-security time capsule, anyway?

Five ran a ragged hand through his hair in an attempt at staving off the clawing hands of doubt and distress which threatened to pull him under should he waver.

Too many damn questions!

Tugging on the ends to feel the burning pain of his scalp, to feel something other than the suffocating sense of hopelessness for just a second.

Eyes crossed to see the hair which hung limply over his forehead and into his eyes, Five considered. It had grown. When had he last had it cut, anyway?

So busy on the run for the last couple of weeks – had it really only been a couple of weeks? Was this his life now, constantly on the run, unable to take a moment to breathe without disaster around the corner? – he had not considered stopping to get it trimmed.

Is it worth cutting? Would...she like it shorter?

Blinking slowly, almost as though in a daze, it took Five a moment to jolt to awareness as he realised where his thoughts were spiralling.

What am I, a teenager with a crush? You're old enough to be browsing happy home brochures, idiot. Not weighing the pros and cons of whether the girl you like would prefer you with short or longer hair.

Frustrated with himself for drifting so off course, Five slapped his hands against his face to force himself out of his hormonal delusions.

Kugelblitz. World-ending disaster. No time for high-school drama.

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