[ before, there was a time where his memories didn't hurt him, they only molded him into something better. they were fragmented to the point they hardly made sense, but nowadays, he recalls, remembers and reflects on them for far too long to put himself in these troubling positions. with rouge, it's a pain, simply because somehow when she's in danger, there's a part of him that has to rescue her no matter the odds — it's not the first time, it's not the second time, but he'd rather her be hurt by him than by anything else that could potentially kill her.
is this a sort of weakness? he thinks like that sometimes, but maria's words resound in his head as a reminder. what his name is to mean, for him to stand in the light too, but could he do that if something happened to rouge? he understood the position he was in, he could have used the chaos emerald to keep them forever, but it was by her wish that he couldn't. whatever maria wants, he's unable to take that from her, she had to leave him so to speak, but she's part of him within his heart. that's the sort of connection they have, and can the same be said about him and rouge — it's too sentimental, their relationship was never built on that.
but he couldn't do it, he couldn't imagine a world where she died due to his negligence of the situation at hand. he doesn't know if the light will show itself when she assists in his direction. the bat who has always prompted him to go here and there, the same one who would propose a deal that would catch his interest. these are sparks that penetrate the darkness, a guide into the light, and if she no longer existed then those sparks would flicker out of his hand.
things like that shouldn't be what's on his mind as the sound within the room starts to die down, water splattering against the floor and walls like rain. the wall he's been thrusted into has left a sort of crater, but his body lays limp against the wall that he's leaning on (against his will, that is)! there's a large spike which formed within the wall, a piece of security, that's penetrated through his body — blood painting the surface behind him, pouring underneath where he sits, but shadow ignores it all.
crimson eyes slowly lift as he hears approaching footsteps, vision somewhat blurred, but the color scheme is one he could recognize anywhere. there's an exhale, whether it's out of relief or trying to catch his breath, it's hard to determine as he follows up with the obvious. ]
Ha. [ if they ignore the situation he's in. ] Record time, I suppose.
[ as though he expects her to rub it in that this wouldn't have happened without her. ]
wtf i always want you to write big for me 🥺 every thread we (will) have
is this a sort of weakness? he thinks like that sometimes, but maria's words resound in his head as a reminder. what his name is to mean, for him to stand in the light too, but could he do that if something happened to rouge? he understood the position he was in, he could have used the chaos emerald to keep them forever, but it was by her wish that he couldn't. whatever maria wants, he's unable to take that from her, she had to leave him so to speak, but she's part of him within his heart. that's the sort of connection they have, and can the same be said about him and rouge — it's too sentimental, their relationship was never built on that.
but he couldn't do it, he couldn't imagine a world where she died due to his negligence of the situation at hand. he doesn't know if the light will show itself when she assists in his direction. the bat who has always prompted him to go here and there, the same one who would propose a deal that would catch his interest. these are sparks that penetrate the darkness, a guide into the light, and if she no longer existed then those sparks would flicker out of his hand.
things like that shouldn't be what's on his mind as the sound within the room starts to die down, water splattering against the floor and walls like rain. the wall he's been thrusted into has left a sort of crater, but his body lays limp against the wall that he's leaning on (against his will, that is)! there's a large spike which formed within the wall, a piece of security, that's penetrated through his body — blood painting the surface behind him, pouring underneath where he sits, but shadow ignores it all.
crimson eyes slowly lift as he hears approaching footsteps, vision somewhat blurred, but the color scheme is one he could recognize anywhere. there's an exhale, whether it's out of relief or trying to catch his breath, it's hard to determine as he follows up with the obvious. ]
Ha. [ if they ignore the situation he's in. ] Record time, I suppose.
[ as though he expects her to rub it in that this wouldn't have happened without her. ]