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a view to kill
Title: a view to kill
Fandom: Wadanohara and the Great Blue Sea, The Gray Garden, Mogeko Castle, Obsolete Dream, Ice Scream, Poison Bugs
Character(s): Wadanohara, Yosafire, Yonaka, Kurotsuno, Shirogane, Tsumuri
Pairing(s): None
Genre: General
Word Count: 600
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Varieties of hate.
Notes: I should tag today but I wrote this.
Some people find that hate is hard. It drags like a heavy weight, difficult to move with. It does not come naturally: it must be taught, until experience with it has made the feeling familiar.
Wadanohara has not yet known real hate. The closest she knows are the palpitations of fear, the realization that someone else might kill her were they to get the chance, and even this is only superficially similar. Fear is justified and rational. It moves her feet and brings urgency to her spells. Hate only clouds the mind. She sees no reason for hate. Not yet.
Some people mistake lesser emotions for hate. They have not yet matured enough to know the meaning of the word and to distinguish it from the petty bickering of schoolchildren.
Yosafire hates men, or so she used to say. In reality they no more than annoy her. Their general faults grate on her nerves, but there are a few she would call good friends. She’s learned now that the worst of them have faults all their own that provoke a much more intense emotion of loathing. With them in mind, she doesn’t toss the word ‘hate’ around nearly as easily.
Some people know hate well. For them, hate rises like acid in the throat: it can either be swallowed, or violently spit out at the one causing their bile.
Yonaka hates a certain species and a certain castle. She will tell you that every bit of it is deserved, and there are few who would argue with her. There is hate in the shine of her blade and each drop of blood spilled. Spite is half of what keeps her fear from overwhelming her. As long as it keeps being of use to her, she’ll hold tight onto that hate.
Some people take hate too far. They lose sight of what made it helpful to them in the first place and hate indiscriminately, or let their good sense be overpowered by it. Their hate blinds them.
Kurotsuno hates. She just hates. Her father, her world, whatever is in her way is despised until she can no longer think rationally about it. She utterly destroys what even irritates her, and when she can’t get rid of it completely she cuts it down as many times as she has to before it’s no longer foolish enough to get up in her presence.
Some people hate themselves. There is no use for that. Too much energy goes into hating that could go into fixing their faults, and if those faults have already been improved or were exaggerated in the first place, the self-loathing obscures that person’s vision inwards.
Shirogane hates himself. He looks at himself and sees nothing but weakness, cowardice, a failure, a loser. Nothing his friends say otherwise can get through to him because he has already engraved this picture of himself, and when he hides alone in the darkness of a cave, he stares at nothing else but that engraving.
Some people don’t hate at all. Never be reassured by this.
Tsumuri doesn’t hate anyone, because that would require caring about them in some way or form, and that’s just not something he does. Not with his carefree lifestyle that he holds so dear. He enjoys what he enjoys, which is mostly the blood and viscera of other insects, and he holds no grudges against them for disagreeing with him. They can live their lives the way they want, or at least, they can attempt to. He doesn’t hate the weaker ones who become his victims: they’re just easy targets.
Fandom: Wadanohara and the Great Blue Sea, The Gray Garden, Mogeko Castle, Obsolete Dream, Ice Scream, Poison Bugs
Character(s): Wadanohara, Yosafire, Yonaka, Kurotsuno, Shirogane, Tsumuri
Pairing(s): None
Genre: General
Word Count: 600
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Varieties of hate.
Notes: I should tag today but I wrote this.
Some people find that hate is hard. It drags like a heavy weight, difficult to move with. It does not come naturally: it must be taught, until experience with it has made the feeling familiar.
Wadanohara has not yet known real hate. The closest she knows are the palpitations of fear, the realization that someone else might kill her were they to get the chance, and even this is only superficially similar. Fear is justified and rational. It moves her feet and brings urgency to her spells. Hate only clouds the mind. She sees no reason for hate. Not yet.
Some people mistake lesser emotions for hate. They have not yet matured enough to know the meaning of the word and to distinguish it from the petty bickering of schoolchildren.
Yosafire hates men, or so she used to say. In reality they no more than annoy her. Their general faults grate on her nerves, but there are a few she would call good friends. She’s learned now that the worst of them have faults all their own that provoke a much more intense emotion of loathing. With them in mind, she doesn’t toss the word ‘hate’ around nearly as easily.
Some people know hate well. For them, hate rises like acid in the throat: it can either be swallowed, or violently spit out at the one causing their bile.
Yonaka hates a certain species and a certain castle. She will tell you that every bit of it is deserved, and there are few who would argue with her. There is hate in the shine of her blade and each drop of blood spilled. Spite is half of what keeps her fear from overwhelming her. As long as it keeps being of use to her, she’ll hold tight onto that hate.
Some people take hate too far. They lose sight of what made it helpful to them in the first place and hate indiscriminately, or let their good sense be overpowered by it. Their hate blinds them.
Kurotsuno hates. She just hates. Her father, her world, whatever is in her way is despised until she can no longer think rationally about it. She utterly destroys what even irritates her, and when she can’t get rid of it completely she cuts it down as many times as she has to before it’s no longer foolish enough to get up in her presence.
Some people hate themselves. There is no use for that. Too much energy goes into hating that could go into fixing their faults, and if those faults have already been improved or were exaggerated in the first place, the self-loathing obscures that person’s vision inwards.
Shirogane hates himself. He looks at himself and sees nothing but weakness, cowardice, a failure, a loser. Nothing his friends say otherwise can get through to him because he has already engraved this picture of himself, and when he hides alone in the darkness of a cave, he stares at nothing else but that engraving.
Some people don’t hate at all. Never be reassured by this.
Tsumuri doesn’t hate anyone, because that would require caring about them in some way or form, and that’s just not something he does. Not with his carefree lifestyle that he holds so dear. He enjoys what he enjoys, which is mostly the blood and viscera of other insects, and he holds no grudges against them for disagreeing with him. They can live their lives the way they want, or at least, they can attempt to. He doesn’t hate the weaker ones who become his victims: they’re just easy targets.