707glty
Lurker
Hey, hey! I'm fairly new to the RPNation community (I just made an account a few minutes ago.. haha), but I'm not new to roleplay at all. Or writing, of course.
I wanted to share a piece I wrote some time ago.
Prologue? Epilogue? Take it as you wish.
## @ J & T
"Do you believe in karma, Teru? ‘Cuz I do." The rather young boy started off with nothing but a small squeak. The anger and venom that dripped from his words didn’t match his thin voice, just another indicative clue that Jiro didn’t belong in a town like Tsuruoka. He was this short and lean little thing with a wicked look hidden behind his overgrown bangs, seething with repulsing rage that was nothing short of horrific. His head hung in feigned shame, the back of his neck rubbed raw for all to see. The reasoning for this meeting, at the brink of worn-down pier on a gloomy summer night was unspoken between the boy and the man. The way the kid rubbed at his throat and darted his gaze like an injured fawn was telling enough. They both knew why they were here, it was an overdue serving of spiteful vengeance. He opened his mouth to speak once more, his hand rattling against the fabric of his shorts.
"I believe... That, in the end.. Everything evens out. It just needs a keen eye to show it the truth."
Up until now, Jiro’s looks to Teru had been few and far between. Cool grey eyes began to bore into the void of Teru’s irises, the hue blending into the wretched eye bags that had displaced themselves on the young boy’s face. Despite all the ramping up, all the injustice and disservices this cruel town had thrust into Jiro's overflowing hands, he had found one place to anchor. To stand, heave, and drop all the baggage he had unconsensually been forced to carry.
Jiro liked to think it could've been anyone who might have sent him flying over the edge, doing what he was to do next, but he knew. He knew that in some sick, twisted fashion, it was always meant to be Teru Saiky who would suffer most from his inevitable break. Jiro and Teru, forever entwined for some appalling reason that neither of them could comprehend.
Jiro was fast with what he did next, but he was not generous. His trembling hand ducked into his endless pockets, untucking a stout metal key— a gift from a friend of the past. The movement that followed was rigid and messy, not a clean stab or a sharp slice. Jiro wanted it to hurt, he wanted the pain to sear through Teru's entire body before his brain had even begun to comprehend what had happened.
The unassuming key Jiro had plunged into Teru's eye socket made sure to twist, and it made sure to turn. It made sure to leave its mark, as Teru had done to Jiro on this same damn pier all that time ago.
The removal of Teru Saiky's eye did not grant Jiro’s desired satisfaction, but only the opposite. The tons that had been resting on his shoulders only seemed to stack higher, crushing the boy underneath their weight and sending boulders rolling directly towards him. Jiro had instantly realized what he had just done, or maybe he had just known all along that this was the furthest thing from right. Maybe Jiro was always aware of the downfall that was bound to follow his long awaited enacted revenge, and maybe he was just waiting for life to serve him another sucker punch he’d be able to fester and decay with — the boy had been expecting the signature on his premature eulogy to be handwritten in sage crayon.
I wanted to share a piece I wrote some time ago.
Prologue? Epilogue? Take it as you wish.
## @ J & T
"Do you believe in karma, Teru? ‘Cuz I do." The rather young boy started off with nothing but a small squeak. The anger and venom that dripped from his words didn’t match his thin voice, just another indicative clue that Jiro didn’t belong in a town like Tsuruoka. He was this short and lean little thing with a wicked look hidden behind his overgrown bangs, seething with repulsing rage that was nothing short of horrific. His head hung in feigned shame, the back of his neck rubbed raw for all to see. The reasoning for this meeting, at the brink of worn-down pier on a gloomy summer night was unspoken between the boy and the man. The way the kid rubbed at his throat and darted his gaze like an injured fawn was telling enough. They both knew why they were here, it was an overdue serving of spiteful vengeance. He opened his mouth to speak once more, his hand rattling against the fabric of his shorts.
"I believe... That, in the end.. Everything evens out. It just needs a keen eye to show it the truth."
Up until now, Jiro’s looks to Teru had been few and far between. Cool grey eyes began to bore into the void of Teru’s irises, the hue blending into the wretched eye bags that had displaced themselves on the young boy’s face. Despite all the ramping up, all the injustice and disservices this cruel town had thrust into Jiro's overflowing hands, he had found one place to anchor. To stand, heave, and drop all the baggage he had unconsensually been forced to carry.
Jiro liked to think it could've been anyone who might have sent him flying over the edge, doing what he was to do next, but he knew. He knew that in some sick, twisted fashion, it was always meant to be Teru Saiky who would suffer most from his inevitable break. Jiro and Teru, forever entwined for some appalling reason that neither of them could comprehend.
Jiro was fast with what he did next, but he was not generous. His trembling hand ducked into his endless pockets, untucking a stout metal key— a gift from a friend of the past. The movement that followed was rigid and messy, not a clean stab or a sharp slice. Jiro wanted it to hurt, he wanted the pain to sear through Teru's entire body before his brain had even begun to comprehend what had happened.
The unassuming key Jiro had plunged into Teru's eye socket made sure to twist, and it made sure to turn. It made sure to leave its mark, as Teru had done to Jiro on this same damn pier all that time ago.
The removal of Teru Saiky's eye did not grant Jiro’s desired satisfaction, but only the opposite. The tons that had been resting on his shoulders only seemed to stack higher, crushing the boy underneath their weight and sending boulders rolling directly towards him. Jiro had instantly realized what he had just done, or maybe he had just known all along that this was the furthest thing from right. Maybe Jiro was always aware of the downfall that was bound to follow his long awaited enacted revenge, and maybe he was just waiting for life to serve him another sucker punch he’d be able to fester and decay with — the boy had been expecting the signature on his premature eulogy to be handwritten in sage crayon.
