Title
: Monotonicity
Fandom: Naruto Characters
: Mirai 17, Mirai 18
Rating: Orange Genre: somber, introspective Warnings: Twincest
monotony. Noia. Tedium. Shadow. Starvation. Apathy. Impatience. Dissatisfaction. Any way you want to call it, the feeling is always the same.
When you are without a purpose, not just have to learn to live with it.
The same blood we have, the same sky if you want. And flight in your magic, my energy. And we touch the soul, perhaps our truth, we can only do we, that fantasy, eh? Up to the limit and then further up the deepest of blue, but you do not ever thou hast believed, and fight ... This game fire burns more ...
Monotonicity
"Look, 18. Do you remember when we were like that? "
"You always say the same things."
laugh. Why do not admit it, but can not wait that you ask yourself, otherwise it will warm that way. You know how me and my only goal is to see you snorting in the tease. a way as any to stop the boredom. "You are so infantile, 17." continue. You're right: both never to grow, if you intended to stay young forever, might as well behave as such. It's funny to think that we were once among the humans who so despise and do not retain even the memory. Maybe that's why seeing them in their daily antics gives you so much trouble: I hate not having everything under the your control. As for me, it matters little. I'm not so angry child not to understand that we do not make our previous lives, and if it could happen, who would ensure we have done a good deal? For all we know, our old life would be hell. I am more direct: I find the extermination of the human a fun way to pass the time. Moreover, the monotony must be fought.
To our knowledge, there must be something human remains inside. This would explain your obsession with the clothes you do not feel satisfied unless we meet every store looting, I would not mind if I do not have to wait it out and see you try each item. "It's been almost an hour. Do you have much longer? "
Now you are laughing, reproaching still be a child.
"I'll never be worse than you with your fixation on the engines."
Do not have a point, if I find a nice car I can not refrain from stealing, even if they are well aware that flying would go much more ; fast. I like to drive, perhaps almost as much as to kill the land. Kill them while driving, then, is the maximum. While you accuse me of having fun as a kid.
There is a fragment of humanity in us, otherwise we will not continue to behave like a man and a woman.
I'd remember if we were always so, or if there was a time long ago when we were almost asexual, identical except for hair color. But I'm not complaining: if we were totally identical, I would have no one left to be angry and die of boredom.
monotony.
Noia. Tedium. Shadow. Starvation. Apathy. Impatience. Dissatisfaction.
Any way you want to call it, the feeling is always the same. When you are without a purpose, not just have to learn to live with it.
"17, remember your name?"
Slowly raise your head, close my eyes and twisting his mouth.
"Now I want to do it the stupid questions?" I had expected such a reaction, so tease me because you are the first of which did not bother to have memories. is a bit 'I think our names. Yesterday we killed a boy named Gohan, our victims rarely have a name: it simply be an indistinct mass of individuals to be deleted. Gohan was different and we have learned to know him because he was the only one that somehow struggled to keep up with us. An important enemy.
So I came to a conclusion.
"The important things always have a name. That's what makes them such. " continued to stare as if I was crazy, maybe it's an argument too convoluted for you. In the end, you simply nodded grudgingly, just to shut me up. "Obviously, for those who created us we were not that important."
"There has not even built first. Seventeen is a bad number. It's bad luck. " As usual transform any serious talk a reason to laugh, you're a child.
"I do not believe in bad luck." I say, without looking, to attract attention, you start fiddling with my hair.
"Eighteen, however, I like most. They were our years. "
in your clear eyes I see reflected in my incredulous expression, I walk further.
"Really remember?
" No. I took a guess. "
not your usual childish trick: you have a tone almost of my most cynical, for once, I would have preferred hear giggles. "I'd give it a name?" I ask you, after a few seconds of awkward silence. Do not answer right away: I fixed from head to foot, thoughtfully, and then shake your head.
"I can not. I can not think of anything. "
" Perhaps you are not important? " I do not think seriously what I said, mine is just a way to punish you for every time I you are accused of having delusions of leadership.
"has nothing to do." be quiet, without collecting my provocation " You would be able to give a name for yourself? The speech is the same. We are two sides of a single thing. "
" You're right. This time you're just busy. "
are now closer to you, for your standards have also spent too much time at what he calls just idle talk. Kiss me on the shoulder, neck and finally on the lips. Even without a name, you are important to me.
"If we do not remember our names, how can we say with certainty to be twins?"
I know what you think behind that smile imperceptible: they are in the mood to meaningless questions. Lying with his hands behind his head, close your eyes and remain silent, I do not think you're thinking, it would be too far-fetched. Although we do not store any recollection, we are sure to be twins, it is a branded concept in our minds as an axiom never questioned. We know that's all. I do not understand why I'm not even dare to destroy what remains our only security.
Your mouth is contracted into a grimace and wrinkles will ripple closed eyelids. Shooting position changes.
"Physically, we are the same." short cuts "And if you do not stop ..." With an exasperated sigh
you bite your lower lip until it bled, and after you touched the wound, throw the dirty finger on my nose. "We have stolen the memories, but the blood is left."
advantage of my surprise to kiss me, so slowly as to appear embarrassed touched my neck and let the index run down my spine column. It almost seems like you're afraid of losing me.
attempt to correct the inappropriate parts embrace my question, sorry.
"If you dress, I'll take you for a ride." Your expression is so serious that I have not the courage to refuse, although I hate to move in the car. Outside there are always the same things.
monotony. Noia. Tedium. Shadow. Starvation. Apathy. Impatience. Dissatisfaction. Any way you want to call it, the feeling is always the same.
When you are without a purpose, not just have to learn to live with it.
Did not I ever tell you, but I retain a memory completely devoid of context. It is confined to a short phrase, perhaps even trivial, that is proof of our relationship. "Leave my sister!"
scream like a madman to a figure for how hard I try I can not tell, do not see you, but I know that I am defending you. I am sure that, in addition to the sentence, I recall harrowing anxiety that I felt, if anything happened you would have remained incomplete, worse than lame.
So if you were talking, I'd stay for days to reflect up to the conclusion that you cared enough to me, you remember something else too. I imagine you busy in your twisted reasoning, his brow furrowed, fingers intertwined, to say that maybe we were finished in trouble because of you. For those who share everything, even the most insignificant secrets turns into an unbearable burden, oppressive, and if you were not so complicated you will gladly give it up halfway. You could see it in another way: we were also united by humans and our relationship continues despite the absence of memory. Your trouble is you think too much.
They handled our brains implanted in exchange for the memory circuits that we have with superhuman powers and inexhaustible energy. But as they could not take away our blood, we continue to have the skin. She became a surrogate of our past, we have explored in search of moles, blemishes, scars and other traces of the past, fun to rebuild their stories.
You have a scar on his right knee two years ago you were procured by the child falling from the bike and last year, however, were slipping because of a cat. Claimed had occurred three weeks ago during a trip to the mountains. Today I have to propose something new. "It happened because you fell while running away from a dangerous type. But I will defend it. "
"Do you have imagination."
"It takes time to think that we were weak enough to scrape your knee. Now we do not know what is pain. "
Also I have a scar, on the back, near the left shoulder, I have seldom occasion to see her, but I think you describe it.
assume that the wound must have been very deep and perhaps could be the memory of a car accident, laughing, add that as usual I must have driven like a daredevil.
"Maybe I did it the type to run from."
From the back you lean over to my back, so look me in the face.
"I do not want to admit that you were a public danger at the wheel?"
"Scars make us different. I prefer to imagine that we have been provoked on the same occasion. "
Several
pain could make dissimilar, with an inability to suffer, our symbiosis has reached perfection, allowing us to play our scars. Every time we invent new stories, in contrast to the eternity of the passing days ever the same.
monotony.
Noia. Tedium. Shadow. Starvation. Apathy. Impatience. Dissatisfaction. Any way you want to call it, the feeling is always the same. When you are without a purpose, not just have to learn to live with it.
Who forced us inside these bodies, condemning to a life without name or remember, was convinced to make us perfect, yet I continue to be convinced that we lack something essential, indispensable even for those who have so much energy to do without sleep. I wonder if you feel my own feelings, but I'm sure to laugh; child as you are, such arguments do not even touch the mind.
Often I look at you wanting adult, smile empty, Images with short hair, the expression of more mature and slight wrinkles around the eyes. Accuse me of being too vain, unaware that in reality I'd like to grow old: it would be interesting to see with our appearance change, year after year, should this be the reason why humans insist on celebrating the day of his birth.
A deafening roar interrupts the flow of my thoughts. You've just destroyed an entire city and fluttering around me, laughing and looking for approval, perhaps I should show more enthusiastic: after all, the idea of considering our May 12th was my birthday, even if you do not have never told to celebrate. I'm still undecided about whether to consider it a happy event or not.
The years do not scratch in any way, but at least our characters should be modified, at the expense of the passing of time, you stay a kid and I restless teenager cynical and perpetually dissatisfied. Perfection us high above the rest of the world, without any experience of time to mature: we have no friends able to teach us something, or strong enough enemies with which to measure, there remains nothing but fun with humans.
Perfection is evolving, everything does not change is considered incomplete, and we are only the result of an unsuccessful experiment, two children condemned to play forever. Often, before fleeing to humans by our desperate attacks, I wonder about the motives for staying involved in life. The Earth has no resources for years accompanying constantly afraid of dying, they are aware that their race is about to expire, but the survival instinct does not abandon them, could let himself die rather than surrender to a life without meaning. recovered from the rubble that could still be useful, we believe that combined group will be stronger, I envied their ability to age, certain that it was unnecessary to keep them anchored to their lives. Thinking back to the day today, beginning to believe I was wrong.
What makes them so tough is a purpose. A goal every day, even futile, but able to make it complete, each represents another milestone achieved breakthrough that will make the day special, different from the others.
We were created to kill a man. His name has been engraved in our minds by replacing our with a pair of numbers, continuously disrupts our reasoning as an annoying buzz, but it's just an obsession artificial: for what concerns us is not as if Goku had never existed, his death has caused us no joy or disappointment, only the constant desire to exist without a purpose.
You approach it is the day I turn around, as if afraid to tell me something. Clumsy and hesitant, you talk to me look the other way. "Would you like a real memory as a birthday present?" Then I wondered if you had been an act of generosity or simply the urge to share a burden too great to bear alone, but I followed your advice and stopped asking myself questions unnecessary.
the only alternative is to cling to the few surrogates for happiness, allowing for a moment the illusion of having won the boredom.
monotony.
Noia. Tedium. Shadow. Starvation. Apathy. Impatience. Dissatisfaction.
Any way you want to call it, the feeling is always the same.
When you are without a purpose, not just have to learn to live with it.
We are both thin and minutes, the same characteristics that make up one of your best qualities make my body is too immature. For once you would have reason to call me infantile you limit yourself to rest: I do not care if you have ensured that, as beautiful as you are, I was afraid not to like, over and over again that it was not my fault that I was prevented to grow.
Assuming you had eighteen years at the time of our transformation I lied watching you could safely say they have lost the very human identity of around twenty years, but reminding me of my appearance immediately lower the figure.
"If I grew up, now you'd be taller than me."
had giggled, trying to uninhibited.
I tried to rebuild our human life, giving to certain assumptions dictated only by the imagination, you were beautiful, while my role was relegated to that of brother silly and intrusive, jealous of your many lovers, perhaps even capable of causing up to brawl; probably I was the one to take them. And then, as far as I could grow and exceeds in height, I would never have reached: over time our paths would be divided, we would be tied to different people, and perhaps forming distinct families living far from each other. I invented this story many years ago, the day when I discovered that you were not a virgin. You were almost embarrassed as I am, but your body the signs of your treasured past. You had found funny the whole thing, wondering how I could be jealous of someone not even preserved the memory, impertinent, I touched his face with the tip of the index, claiming to be you have every reason to jealous: about my past, you were forced to remain in doubt. Noting that mischievous smile fight your face with delicate and angelic, I had the certainty that you were wrong: with you closely, it was impossible that I had tried only attraction to another woman. Later, after killing a group of thugs that we had mistaken for a helpless girl, you told me that the idea was repugnant to you that I went to bed with human beings like that. Instead of being raised, I conclude that you do not necessarily have to be willing, my guess connecting with the only fragment of memory that has stayed with me.
I stopped thinking about your possible past noting the enormous wealth that we possess in the present. Support that those who have made plans to create two infallible beings have failed. In part, you're right: individually we are nothing. But together we can achieve perfection, our uniqueness lies precisely in identical and inseparable. Nobody has the power to interfere in our relationship, if we were human it would break even without having the time of birth, stifled by the conventions.
Whatever has happened before, now you do not have other than me.
For once, this security will not be because of boredom. not remember on what occasion we started. They say the first kiss you never forget, those who say it must have been a few kisses, and no particular significance. not even remember which of them has begun. We both had to deal with our fears and inhibitions. At first glance it seems that I was a tease when you were engaged to evoke anything from ghosts of the past, yet I certainly was not a whisper to stop stealing stupid clothes because you were better off without that stuff on him. As usual, we're both guilty to the same extent.
In spite of my twisted character I never stopped to ask if it was a good reason.
If I were human, I probably would considered immoral and wrong our relationship and that is why I believe all human beings are stupid: in their obsessive urge to live in a pack are thrown into the arms of strangers, letting their true essence is destroyed from the bustle of the crowds. We
alienated from their way of life, we experienced the loneliness and stillness. Free from pain, suffering and motivations, we shared the amnesia and the void, perhaps, more of our family and our physical appearance, was precisely what to join. As the world shrinks around something, it ends up being your only reason for living. In our case, we continue to exist only for ourselves. We needed to move the days so monotonous. If ours was only a blood relationship, we would be compelled to thank a mother that we have forgotten, if our relationship was due to the other's misfortunes, we owe the first being that we killed. If you have forced us to be brothers and friends, nothing will be deprived of freedom lovers. Not that what binds us is defined as
love, that pure and idealized in which people believe. You might not even classify as a vice, after the immense majority of the population on earth, our souls are already black enough to be further contaminated.
We simply complement each other, sharing what we have. And we will continue until the day he will not stay no man on earth, until their civilization will not be nothing left but a pile of dust, until even remind ourselves of destroying them. We
eternity before and invincible enemy to fight, so important to have multiple names. One of the many is monotonous, but it is also known as boredom. Or boredom. Shadow. Starvation. Apathy. Impatience. Dissatisfaction.
Any way you want to call it the feeling is always the same.
When you are without a purpose, not just have to learn to live with it.
© Pelù "Get well"
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