[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 425px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; text-trasform: lowercase][font=arial]// I have no idea where this is going I'm so sorry ALSO PLEASE DONT TRY TO MATCH MY MUSE!!! TBH NOTHING BUT THE LAST TWO PARAGRAPHS ARE IMPORTANT TO READ AS WELL AS THE QUOTES IN THE MIDDLE OF PARAGRAPHS, ALL THE REST IS JUST DEVELOPMENT FLUFF
HE'LL ALSO BE BACK IN THE NEXT POST I MAKE - THIS BODY HE HAS IS OFFICIALLY DEAD, HOWEVER.
"Tell me, son. Do you value life?"
Ronan stood at the edge of the cliff, gazing over at the ocean far below him. The water occasionally crashed into the rocks at full force, spraying him lightly with foam even though he was high over it in the first place, causing him to flinch back as it did so. He wasn't sure how he had found himself there. Wasn't sure why he even bothered to go near the water when he was so deathly afraid of it, even when it was so far below him. Water only ever brought bad memories into his head, and it only appeared in his nightmares. Yet strangely it was peaceful as well. Up on these rocks, he was a safe distance away from that which he feared, yet close enough that it could lap at his mind, teasing and testing him, helping him build a resistance to it. It also helped him delve deep into his mind, face other non-material fears that were pent up inside of him. The sound of the water lulled him into a sense of uneasy security, like the hold of someone who had been with you their whole life and loved you, but was a notorious murderer. You were both safe, but at the same time you weren't sure if you really were. A strange thing to seek comfort in, but something Ronan found solace in nevertheless.
"Depends on whose it is."
Ronan's icy gaze grazed the choppy surface of the waves, watching them fall and rise and matching his own breath to their rythm. The wind buffeted his pelt, threatening to push him into the rocky bay below, but he held on firmly, digging his claws into the rocks, not giving in to it's will. He wasn't going to have a repeat of what had happened before. He wasn't going to drown today, or crack his skull open on something. He had no intentions of doing so. He wasn't suicidal.
"Do you value your life?"
Was he? Though Ronan rarely dared to explore his own mental state, and though he usually pushed all thoughts of death away from his head as much as possible, he couldn't seem to do it now. He delved deeper into the thought, a frown tugging at his lips. Was he suicidal? Did he crave death to release him, was he depressed? He had gone through a lot, yes... the death of two fathers, being killed by one of them... killing so many innocents to save himself... to save himself? He knew he was a murderer, a monster. He had accepted that fact a long time ago. But Ronan never dared to explore the mental scars that his life had left on him, deeming them too dangerous to analyze. What if he broke? What if looking back and wondering if he was still sane was the thing that made him crack?
"..."
But was he suicidal? As he stared down at the rocks below him, Ronan couldn't help but wonder if he'd be glad if the rocks impaled him, if the ocean swallowed him up and erased him from the world. He wondered if, had his father not had some sort of other plans and had killed him for good, would he have cried? Would he have cared? Or would he have smiled up at the one who had created him and mouth a silent 'thank you' instead of a plea to continue his life? He couldn't admit it. It would mean that there was something wrong with him. But there was a nagging feeling, a nagging voice in his head that screamed at him, that cried "yes! yes you are suicidal, so accept it and kill yourself already!"
"Did you value hers?"
It wasn't like anyone was going to care. Images flashed by in his head, and the adult flinched back, watching as a few loose rocks fell into the watery abyss below. A smile, a laugh. The soft touch of her embrace as she protected him from all the dangers of the world. A warm, glowing shield - an angel dressed as a woman, always there to hide him from those who wanted to beat him down. Those eyes, once so full of life...
"..."
Now dead, vacant. Dull and soulless as they stared at him but didn't see him. There was no shock, no surprise in her features as she lay there, blood pooling from her eyes and forehead. She almost looked peaceful as he hovered above her, shock late to settle into his features. His eyes held the same empty look as hers, and at that moment Ronan had realized that there was really no difference between him and the dead. He was too far gone. He had panicked, he hadn't thought. He had lost himself to instinct and in a matter of seconds he had held the gun in his hand, pulled back the trigger and... she was dead. But she looked like she knew. Like she wasn't angry at him, like she didn't blame him. She understood. She forgave him for being a god damn fucking monster. She forgave him for something that just simply wasnt forgivable. He had killed her. She was gone.
"Would you kill me if given the chance?"
Tears pooled in his eyes and Ronan furiously rubbed them away, gritting his teeth together as he did so. But as much as he tried to stop them, the tears just continued falling, until the male finally gave up and instead dropped his hands to his shoulders, digging his nails into his skin until it broke, blood pooling under them. He didn't know why he was like this. He didn't know why he had to suffer like this because of him. All of this had started the moment that he was abandoned, made to believe both of his fathers were dead when in reality one had stayed in the mortal realm in order to use him as an experiment. That's what he was. He didn't even know which parts of his life were being monitored or not anymore, but he knew that everything was a lie. Yet the worst part about that was that even though he knew that some things were set up, he didn't know what. Everyone he had met could have been set up for him to kill, for him to betray. He'd grow up not knowing who was innocent in this whole fray, and who his father had purposefully tied down and made him choose to kill, who had volunteered to die. But worst of all, he didn't know his purpose in all of this. He didn't know why he had been brainwashed to kill all those people, to believe the whole world was his enemy. He didn't know why he was still alive. He didn't know why he hadn't snapped and killed himself already.
"No."
But even though it was his father that did all of this to him, Ronan knew he wouldn't be able to kill him. He had no love for that man, even if he held such a title, it was something worse that held him loyal. If Lirim were to be placed infront of him, tied and gagged and a gun pressed to his temple held by no other than Ronan... he wouldn't be able to press the trigger because that man had made him so. He made him into a loyal dog that could be stopped with one word, one flick of the wrist, put through agonizing pain with only a glance of those black soulless eyes. His father wasn't normal. His father was something supernatural, and as his spawn Ronan knew he belonged to him. Belonged to something that could never die. So it wasn't love that would stop him from killing his father. It was fear. It was the knowledge that if he tried it would cause him pain beyond belief, and still not get rid of the figure who plagued his entire life.
"What if it was to save him?"
"..."
There was also that constant nagging fear at the back of his mind that keep him loyal to his father's cause. His father knew of his friendships, of the people, or rather person, that Ronan cared for in this god forsaken earth. That meant that if he wanted to, he could easily take and kill anyone he wanted, use them as a tool to get Ronan back into his place. He couldn't let his father know how close anyone was to him. He couldn't even think of it, and he violently tried to push the thoughts away, wincing as he dug his nails even deeper into his skin, starting to run lines across his arms as he started to scratch himself.
"Do you care for his life?"
"..."
He would kill himself if something happened to Tasukete because of him. He would gladly try to kill his father if it meant saving him from this entire mess.
"What would happen if he lost it?"
"..."
He would snap. He would destroy everything. He'd kill all who wronged him or his friend.
"Would you give up your own life to save those you love?"
"... yes."
He didn't care for his own life as much as he did for the lives of the ones who loved him. Of those he loved. He'd shoot himself just to protect them. He was suicidal. He would gladly die for them. For him.
"Liar."
Memories flashed in his head, more smiles, more happy faces, all of them quickly turning black and dull, soulless eyes staring up at him with one question dancing in the air. Why? A choked sob escaped Ronan as he watched all the people he had promised to protect, watch as they were either cut down by his father's men or cut down by himself as he snapped, unable to comprehend or deal with his problems. He had promised that he would protect them and yet there they were.
"Murderer."
There they were, all in a bloody pile, doused in gasoline. One match was all it took to burn your whole life down. One match was all it took to kill people. One gun pointed to one innocent head, one knife plunged deep into someone's throat. All it took to betray was one tool. All it took to become a monster, a murderer, was one death. You never recovered from that. It became a drug, a sedative. Each life became less and less important, until it became a statistic how many people you killed. Until you were joking about it with others, bragging about how many women and children you've killed, how many men you've beaten into submission.
"Thief."
How many people you've robbed of their life. Of their future. Their families. How many people you deprived of something that was just so... basic. So easy to keep. How many lives you stole in order to build a protective shield around your mind, how many lives you stole in order to try and justify your goals.
"Die."
He hissed out to himself, tears streaming down his face. Why couldn't he just die? What right had he to remain alive? Why was he even still here on this planet? He had killed hundreds without batting an eye. It was too late to try and apologize or make up for his mistakes. What right had he to continue draining the world of the innocent? He had no chance to right what he had done. And so there was only one option for him. To die. The adult took out his switchblade with shaking hands, a deep breath escaping him as he held it near his abdomen. It took him a good few seconds, but with a cry he plunged the blade deep into his stomach, a soft gasp escaping him as his eyes widened in shock. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, though. He expected something more. He expected it to be the greatest pain in the world. But maybe it was because he was too far gone anymore to care. He was prepared to die, so it didn't hurt as much. But maybe now it would end, and he'd finally get that happy ending he always hoped for. Maybe a hundred more people would be saved from his existence.
So in the end he had answered his own question. Was he suicidal? Yes. Yes he was. But now he wasn't anything. He was just Ronan, lying dead in a pool of his own blood, looking almost as if he was asleep. He looked peaceful, content. And if someone didn't know better they'd think the raven winged canine was simply taking a nap.
/// wooooooo boy ok