Descartes
Pet Name: Descartes
Owner: Apache
Theme / Type: Wintergala Gurahdi
Born: November 29, 2012
Gender: Male
MisticPal Name: Tranquility
MisticPal Age: 3937 Days
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 16 / 16
Strength: 18
Defense: 0
Speed: 16
Intellect: 20
Misticpower: 1
Battles Won: 0
Battles Lost: 0
| Attached Weapons | |
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: 0/1254 [ View Foods ]
I get angry, we all do. But I will not allow myself to unburden this ferocity on the undeserving. So if I am angry, I will keep it to myself. I try to be better. I can be better. If it so bad, I will go off into the woods where I can be alone. Where I can not hurt anybody.
Sometimes I am overwhelmed by this feeling of futility, of uselessness, of a devil-mar-care obsession. I get angry at all of it, and I get angry at myself. So when I cannot escape it, I confront my anger. I crack branches against trees and pound my fists into the ground. Sometimes I will scream. Sometimes I will cry.
But then it is gone, and I feel sane again.
...Funny, now that you mention it, there are a lot of broken branches in the woods around my house.
Huh.
Go figure.
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"The way I see it... if we were put here for a reason, if any reason, it's to help each other endure. Life is tough enough without others lending hands."
ID No. 26M
Descartes; "of the charts"
sincere || hardy || uncomplicated || aloof
"The Fisherman"
Descartes grew up in the north in a small riverside village. The village thrived on the river's plenty. All raised there came to know the ins and outs of fishing, and Descartes was no exception. He is adept with spears, nets, and hooks, in fishing as well as combat.
He is not a rather obsessed fellow. He goes with the flow and tries not to be too concerned with what could have or should have been. Though he keeps to himself he is always ready to lend a hand. He does his best to prevent the worst from happening, if it is ever within his power or influence. He is steady when presented with calamity and tragedy.
Descartes is unusually tall. He has an air of confidence and strength about him that tends to dissuade troublemakers. And even though nobody would challenge him if he did, he has never been heard saying an ill word about anyone.
He takes his life one day at a time, and is not particularly worried about anything at all.
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In the middle of the meadow field
lies the coffin of peace and prosperity
that was laid to rest and
is buried the hope of man,
of us and our continuum.
In the middle of the meadow field
sleeps the premise of our kindness,
of an abstinence of war.
In the middle of the meadow field
a child of humanity is buried,
and her dreams echo in the empty spaces
lighting up
tiny, infant gestures.
In the middle of the meadow field,
will be the rebirth of the world,
but there is only so much she can do,
she needs some help along.
So I've got myself a shovel
and am going to start digging.
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I stumble over my feet and catch myself at the last second. I shift the burden on my shoulder, pause for a moment, and then continue.
I have been carrying her body for so long. Fighting has left me weakened. I am so exhausted.
But I am almost at the village. I will return her to her home and to her family, even if I have to drag myself.
I climb over the last hill as the sun is setting. It is not long before I am greeted by shouts, and cries, and only when I can bear it no longer do I drop her down, as gently as I can, at the foot of the building crowd.
I want to say sorry. I want to say I tried to save her. I want to say, the people responsible won't be hurting anyone anymore.
But I think they know by the look in my eye, so instead I don't say anything at all.
When I can, I get away, away from the questions and the stares. I will leave and not return, to my home, to my childhood. I do not want it.
They can keep it. I don't want any of it anymore.
---
I wash my hands by the riverside.
For a minute the water runs red, just for a moment. I cannot help but watch it rush, and swivel, and drown in the vast muddiness of the river. It is like it never existed at all.
My hands are clean, but I have never felt so dirty in my life.
So much for generosity. So much for goodness. So much for zen and so much for peace. I have disgraced my ideals. I have involved myself, and people are dead because of it.
I had to do something, something to help her but couldn't I have done it better?
I sit on the bank a long, long while, not knowing where I will go next. While I sit, I pray.
Let these memories wash away, like the blood rolling off my fingertips. Let me absolve myself of my sins.
Help me better.
Please, please, help me be better.
~
Descartes belongs to Apache.
Boxed WinterGala on 5/31/18!
[Adopted from the pound as a Nocturnal Gurahdi]
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