butterfly lips。『 minjoon 』

pt 2 prologue

prologue: valley of yellow flowers

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MANY MANY THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO

the valley of yellow flowers was tainted by the ruthless vile nature of war, bodies of soldiers replaced the delicate yellow flowers that the valley so carefully cultivated, her greenery was burnt and stained, painting her with bloody hues and rustic greys. her identity was lost to the iron swords that clashed against one another, no longer was she the valley of yellow flowers. she was another battlefield where the new and old gods fought one another for the throne in the heavens. her grounds were brutalized by the fires and earthquakes, ash, and dirt everywhere. the flowery scent that once pleasantly touched the senses was overwhelmed by the stench of death and smoke.

— and this battlefield was putrid. it was awful. it was horrifying for the mortals who could not see through the smoke that blurred their vision. their battle-worn bodies struggling, their battle-torn faces gleaming with sweat and blood underneath the weeping sun. 

this battlefield was heart-wrenching, for the families of nymphs and elves, torn apart between the new and old gods. brothers stabbing brothers, fathers stabbing their kin. not even the battle-hungry titans could handle the brutality that was the battle for the throne to the heavens above.

in the end, all the lost souls wondered if this was even worth it? if it would solve all the problems for the future? if they beat themselves bloody, would they finally find peace? if they bled out all they could bleed right onto the yellow flowers, would the dead come back from their coffins? would they never have to die a hundred more deaths again? the answer was lost amongst the tongues of the living. who looked at each other in complete bewilderment, unable to accept their luckiness.

a goddess stood there, alluring and so tragically beautiful among the bloodshed and bodies. so many bodies laid beneath her feet, bodies of every creature imaginable. all who either fought for her, or against her, or against their will. she felt a tear run down her blood-stained cheek, with a gloved hand she wiped it away. she looked down at her sword, golden ichor dripping down its silver blade. it was strange, seeing it glimmer so beautifully in the sun. she much rather look at the divine bodily fluid than the man at her feet, his soft black locks covering his open empty eyes. another tear slid down her cheek to her chin. this felt so wrong, so wrong and she felt so unworthy of being called a goddess. she had killed another god with her sword, a young god who was destined to be like her. 

"haenatov, we won the battle. there is no reason for you to shed a tear. be happy my love, my dear, this is good. you have secured another many many thousands of years for us." the head god told her, with glee on his face as he walked towards her. his blinding white smile looked absolutely ghastly under the smog. haenatov turned around, holding her hand up, not wanting him to get any closer. 

"i cannot see why you can be so happy! there is nothing we gained from this, most of the mortals are dead. the ones who fought for us. we nearly could have destroyed the world-" 

"and?" the god questioned, "we can create a new world! we have the ability to do that because we are in fact— gods!" 

"you are a mad god. crazy." she spat. the tears continued to flow, unable to see the light of the situation. she went against what she stood and reigned. war had nothing to do with love. not one bit. yet here she stood, geared in elegant battle armor, holding the sword that was used to slay her counterpart. another bit of her godly divine soul chipped off. 

the god in front of her had begun to slowly disappear, flakes of his existence flying off like butterflies. she felt a hand on her shoulder, as she watched the butterflies fly off into the distance.

she turned around. "i don't understand why." her voice quaked.

"we must keep this world perfect."

she placed her hand over her chest. she could feel her soul flutter under her blood-stained touch. as a god, she could also feel the cracks and imperfections in her soul.