10-23-2019, 04:49 PM
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Roboto+Slab&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><style> #ionic{width:600px;} #ionicwrapper{ position:relative; z-index:0; border:1px solid #142c33; box-shadow:0px 0px 10px #142c33 inset; background:url('https://i.postimg.cc/P5ztx8kX/IonBG.jpg'); border-radius:100px 100px 100px 100px; padding-top:40px; padding-bottom:40px; margin-top:-90px;} #ionicimg{ position:relative; z-index:1;} #ionictext{ width:450px; border:1px solid #142c33; box-shadow:0px 0px 10px #142c33; border-radius:90px 90px 90px 90px; background-color:#67a1a5; padding:35px; color:#f2e0d0; font-size:14px; font-family: 'Roboto Slab', serif;}</style><center><div id="ionic"><div id="ionicimg"><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/mZ0p5X1q/ion-by-insane43-ddb4hg5-pre.png" width="600px"/></div><div id="ionicwrapper"><div id="ionictext" align="justify">No one had ever mentioned how difficult life might be when you are only half of what you were meant to be.
His introduction to the world had been a hard one. One made even more difficult when he would wake every morning to his parent’s eyes upon him, seeing not him, but the mirror that should have been. At first he hadn’t truly understood. He had known only that something, <i>someone</i>, was missing.
His once whispered confession to his mother had brought tears to her eyes and an unbearable grief to her lovely features. He hadn’t had the heart then to say anything more. But when he had asked his father, through his own grief he had confirmed Ion’s suspicions.
He had not imagined him, the elder brother that had shared his mother’s womb and heralded him into the world. The elder brother that had not taken even a single breath.
And, in the fallacy of youth, the only conclusion he had been able to come to is that he had, somehow, taken that from his brother. He should never have existed. Should never have been given a life not truly meant for him.
He had never shared those heart-rending realizations with his parents. Could not bear the thought of watching their love turn to ashes and their grief to anger as they realized just what he had taken from them. When they realized it should be Atom, and not Ion, standing before them.
It wasn’t long after that he had left, unable to bear the terrible weight of his own guilt each day he saw his parent’s gentle, loving faces. He had not known how to tell them the truth. Or how to apologize for living when his own twin had not. And so, like a coward, he had slunk into the night, choosing to flee rather than face the invisible accusation in their eyes.
He’d spent many long months deep in the woods, lost in his feline shape, trying so hard to pretend he could be something other than what he was. Pretending he could exist without being haunted by the face of his dead twin. It is only on that fateful morning that he finally comes to realize he cannot hide from his own mind. And it is that call which provides the impetus to send him stumbling from feline to equine, lips twisting into a long-held shriek of rage and grief and self-loathing.
It’s impossible to say how long he stands there, eyes squeezed shut, blue frame trembling and dampening beneath the force of his own denial. But he cannot deny the face in his mind’s eye forever. Not when it is a mirror image of his very own. Finally, resignation gives way to simple truth and untold possibilities dangling the prospect of peace and forgiveness before him.
He’s not certain it’s possible, but perhaps, if he allows himself to remember the twin he’d never truly known (his other half), he might finally free himself from these self-imposed shackles.
For months it had only been the two of them, imperfect halves of the same whole. But Ion had never known him in this world, and the only thing he has to give is himself. And so, with a trembling breath, he twists until he can pluck a lock of stiff hair from his tail before setting himself on an uncertain path towards the beach.
His hooves digging hesitantly into the damp sands, he continues until he is nearly falling into the waves before stumbling to a halt. The strands of hair plucked from his own tail dangle from his lips, caught in a faint breeze as he stares unseeingly out across the water. He clings foolishly to that paltry gift. It’s nothing, really. He’s not certain it would be enough. But it is all he has to offer.<p align="center"><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/XqGHvhXR/IonName.png" width="350px"/></p></div></div></div></center>
His introduction to the world had been a hard one. One made even more difficult when he would wake every morning to his parent’s eyes upon him, seeing not him, but the mirror that should have been. At first he hadn’t truly understood. He had known only that something, <i>someone</i>, was missing.
His once whispered confession to his mother had brought tears to her eyes and an unbearable grief to her lovely features. He hadn’t had the heart then to say anything more. But when he had asked his father, through his own grief he had confirmed Ion’s suspicions.
He had not imagined him, the elder brother that had shared his mother’s womb and heralded him into the world. The elder brother that had not taken even a single breath.
And, in the fallacy of youth, the only conclusion he had been able to come to is that he had, somehow, taken that from his brother. He should never have existed. Should never have been given a life not truly meant for him.
He had never shared those heart-rending realizations with his parents. Could not bear the thought of watching their love turn to ashes and their grief to anger as they realized just what he had taken from them. When they realized it should be Atom, and not Ion, standing before them.
It wasn’t long after that he had left, unable to bear the terrible weight of his own guilt each day he saw his parent’s gentle, loving faces. He had not known how to tell them the truth. Or how to apologize for living when his own twin had not. And so, like a coward, he had slunk into the night, choosing to flee rather than face the invisible accusation in their eyes.
He’d spent many long months deep in the woods, lost in his feline shape, trying so hard to pretend he could be something other than what he was. Pretending he could exist without being haunted by the face of his dead twin. It is only on that fateful morning that he finally comes to realize he cannot hide from his own mind. And it is that call which provides the impetus to send him stumbling from feline to equine, lips twisting into a long-held shriek of rage and grief and self-loathing.
It’s impossible to say how long he stands there, eyes squeezed shut, blue frame trembling and dampening beneath the force of his own denial. But he cannot deny the face in his mind’s eye forever. Not when it is a mirror image of his very own. Finally, resignation gives way to simple truth and untold possibilities dangling the prospect of peace and forgiveness before him.
He’s not certain it’s possible, but perhaps, if he allows himself to remember the twin he’d never truly known (his other half), he might finally free himself from these self-imposed shackles.
For months it had only been the two of them, imperfect halves of the same whole. But Ion had never known him in this world, and the only thing he has to give is himself. And so, with a trembling breath, he twists until he can pluck a lock of stiff hair from his tail before setting himself on an uncertain path towards the beach.
His hooves digging hesitantly into the damp sands, he continues until he is nearly falling into the waves before stumbling to a halt. The strands of hair plucked from his own tail dangle from his lips, caught in a faint breeze as he stares unseeingly out across the water. He clings foolishly to that paltry gift. It’s nothing, really. He’s not certain it would be enough. But it is all he has to offer.<p align="center"><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/XqGHvhXR/IonName.png" width="350px"/></p></div></div></div></center>