08-18-2019, 09:51 PM
what is a god to a non-believer
'That landing could have gone better.' It was the only real thought that passed through his mind and it was enough to make him laugh through the pain. He never thought it was possible to be able to do anything through pain, he has seen the way it made others act, caused warriors to turn into crying children, but maybe he was born strange, dropped one too many times onto the hard earth below that it rewired him permanently. Twisted him into something he didn't think he could recognize, if he was the old Yossarian he would have cried just like everyone else, would have jumped up from the ground he was currently crumbled inelegantly on and claimed that death was upon him, begged to be saved from the inevitable. The impact with this land should have killed him, this should have been the end for someone who had nothing to offer this world anymore but he took a laborious breath in and out, striking blue eyes opening and though the focus was blurry he was still very much alive. Maybe it was a miracle, and if he really thought that then maybe he was the dumbest thing to ever be birthed in this unforgiving world.
He shifts his crumbled heap of a body and for the first time real and true pain registers in his mind and the world goes a stark, blind white, absolutely blank. Perhaps he let out a scream with the shock of it all but he registers nothing other than this total, earth shatteringly powerful pain that courses through him like lightning. Yossarian was foolish to think that he didn't feel pain, that he could continue to handle what he had just gone through. It was almost enough to knock him out altogether, a blackness approaching the corners of his white vision but there is a strength inside of him that he has never once known to be reality and in between the tears he stays centered and very much aware of what is going on within him, something inside wishes he would just collapse but there is a bubbling fear that if he did that, would he ever wake? Would the broken form of who he is now simply be food for another if he allowed that blackness to consume him? These are questions that even the ever curious Yossarian did not want to know the answers for. He takes another pained breath in, tastes blood on his lips, but he smells the clean air and water that surrounds him and it is better than the smoke and acrid air that fills his memories. Yossarian had escaped with his life, it did not matter the cost, it did not matter the trauma or the screams that would haunt dreams he has yet to have, because he had come out of it beaten and battered and no doubt bloody. He was the one that came out of it living and breathing, everyone else be damned.
Which is ironic considering her name is now on the tip of his tongue, flooding his mind. Yossarian wants to see her beauty, curl up against her glossy bay pelt and love her more than he ever thought possible. On the brink of death and decay, he wonders why he thinks first of himself and then of her, of a woman who smile once brightened his whole life, who pulled him along with a flick of her tail and a shackle to his heart. He remembers her lips against his neck, the feeling is burned into his skin and soul, impossible to completely forget. He once thought she would always be the first thing on his mind, that he would be laying near death and crying for his loss of her, but Karissa is second to himself so he would cry tears only for his own life. He rubs his head against the grass below him, groaning in near defeat before he finally finds whatever is left of him to move upright, off of his side and onto his knees. One step at a time Yossarian. He assesses one thing first, his left foreleg is damaged, knee torn and bloodied most from the fall and it would scar up terribly. The least of his worries, but he went small first to build himself up to the worst of it. Blood covers his chest, a ragged and fresh wound tearing across part of it and up to his shoulder but it was rather shallow and clotting already. His face burns, blood is on his lips and unknowing to him another scar is cut across what was once a handsome face, blotches of torn skin that would never heal, disfiguring him for life. Memories of talons striking at him, smoke billowing around and poisoning his lungs, darkness covering everything, wings beating violently in his ears. Yossarian's heartbeat quickens, panic becoming overwhelming. Why did he crash? He flexes out the appendages that were once something of pride and admiration for him, but he violently flinches, a cry of pain and horror escaping his mouth. He couldn't look, couldn't bare to see what was wrong with him but there was a morbid curiosity inside of him to know and understand. He turns his head painfully, and if he had any heart left inside of him it would have broken in half and he would have fallen dead on the ground in an instant. Yossarian's identity, the thing that he never thought he could live without, his wings, they were torn to shreds, ribbons of skin and feathers hanging off the bone.
'Karissa' Her name is like a mantra now in his head, he thinks her name like a prayer as if it would make him wake up with her body pressed to him, shushing him quietly as the nightmare faded to just a distant memory. She was always good at that, good at being there for him when he wasn't there for her, he never did deserve her but he also knew that did not deserve this. Yossarian was alive, but his wings were plucked, pieces missing from the once beautifully feathered part of him. Clipped and grounded, it was a wonder he ever managed to make it this far on these things, it was no wonder he crashed into the ground below. With blurry, tear stained eyes he shakily forces himself to stand and move towards the lake he had crashed close to, mud and blood coating his lightly colored coat. He stumbles into the water and mouth submerges into it, he inhales the cooled liquid. Maybe it was a miracle he was alive, because maybe he really was the dumbest creature to be born on this unforgiving, messed up fucking world.
He shifts his crumbled heap of a body and for the first time real and true pain registers in his mind and the world goes a stark, blind white, absolutely blank. Perhaps he let out a scream with the shock of it all but he registers nothing other than this total, earth shatteringly powerful pain that courses through him like lightning. Yossarian was foolish to think that he didn't feel pain, that he could continue to handle what he had just gone through. It was almost enough to knock him out altogether, a blackness approaching the corners of his white vision but there is a strength inside of him that he has never once known to be reality and in between the tears he stays centered and very much aware of what is going on within him, something inside wishes he would just collapse but there is a bubbling fear that if he did that, would he ever wake? Would the broken form of who he is now simply be food for another if he allowed that blackness to consume him? These are questions that even the ever curious Yossarian did not want to know the answers for. He takes another pained breath in, tastes blood on his lips, but he smells the clean air and water that surrounds him and it is better than the smoke and acrid air that fills his memories. Yossarian had escaped with his life, it did not matter the cost, it did not matter the trauma or the screams that would haunt dreams he has yet to have, because he had come out of it beaten and battered and no doubt bloody. He was the one that came out of it living and breathing, everyone else be damned.
Which is ironic considering her name is now on the tip of his tongue, flooding his mind. Yossarian wants to see her beauty, curl up against her glossy bay pelt and love her more than he ever thought possible. On the brink of death and decay, he wonders why he thinks first of himself and then of her, of a woman who smile once brightened his whole life, who pulled him along with a flick of her tail and a shackle to his heart. He remembers her lips against his neck, the feeling is burned into his skin and soul, impossible to completely forget. He once thought she would always be the first thing on his mind, that he would be laying near death and crying for his loss of her, but Karissa is second to himself so he would cry tears only for his own life. He rubs his head against the grass below him, groaning in near defeat before he finally finds whatever is left of him to move upright, off of his side and onto his knees. One step at a time Yossarian. He assesses one thing first, his left foreleg is damaged, knee torn and bloodied most from the fall and it would scar up terribly. The least of his worries, but he went small first to build himself up to the worst of it. Blood covers his chest, a ragged and fresh wound tearing across part of it and up to his shoulder but it was rather shallow and clotting already. His face burns, blood is on his lips and unknowing to him another scar is cut across what was once a handsome face, blotches of torn skin that would never heal, disfiguring him for life. Memories of talons striking at him, smoke billowing around and poisoning his lungs, darkness covering everything, wings beating violently in his ears. Yossarian's heartbeat quickens, panic becoming overwhelming. Why did he crash? He flexes out the appendages that were once something of pride and admiration for him, but he violently flinches, a cry of pain and horror escaping his mouth. He couldn't look, couldn't bare to see what was wrong with him but there was a morbid curiosity inside of him to know and understand. He turns his head painfully, and if he had any heart left inside of him it would have broken in half and he would have fallen dead on the ground in an instant. Yossarian's identity, the thing that he never thought he could live without, his wings, they were torn to shreds, ribbons of skin and feathers hanging off the bone.
'Karissa' Her name is like a mantra now in his head, he thinks her name like a prayer as if it would make him wake up with her body pressed to him, shushing him quietly as the nightmare faded to just a distant memory. She was always good at that, good at being there for him when he wasn't there for her, he never did deserve her but he also knew that did not deserve this. Yossarian was alive, but his wings were plucked, pieces missing from the once beautifully feathered part of him. Clipped and grounded, it was a wonder he ever managed to make it this far on these things, it was no wonder he crashed into the ground below. With blurry, tear stained eyes he shakily forces himself to stand and move towards the lake he had crashed close to, mud and blood coating his lightly colored coat. He stumbles into the water and mouth submerges into it, he inhales the cooled liquid. Maybe it was a miracle he was alive, because maybe he really was the dumbest creature to be born on this unforgiving, messed up fucking world.
(Sorry, it's kinda bleh I know, but I promise it'll get better as I flesh his character out more!)