Can’t Forget…

Can’t Forget…

#BRUntold

Greetings one and all! Today I bring you a piece that I am very proud of- but am a little nervous about. See, I tried to make this art my pfp a bit back, and the bots didn’t like it. I’m hoping this isn’t a problem again, but if I go silent for 24 hours… ya’ll will know why.

This piece was inspired by the first #BRUntold prompt. It made me think of the fact that my character this year was a twin. Because some things are just unforgetable- and I’d imagine nothing about Battle Royale could make you forget that you’re a twin…

So this blog will be a mix. The images throughout will be my normal Timelapse videos, but I thought in stead of just talking about the art and characters- this time I’d do the writing exercise.

Warning:

Themes fo grief, mourning, questioning death, and the mind.

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Memory…

…

What a fickle thing….

What a weak and fragile thing….

What a cruel joke…

He couldn’t talk to anyone about The Wheel- about the cultists- about his worries for next year or his theories on what happened. Perhaps the Matriarch might understand- but for now she was back in isolation, hiding- soaking Bacta to keep from getting any worse… so he was unsure if she’d .

Would the matriarch humor him? Pretending to understand? Would she , and mourn with him? Would she pretend she didn’t know? In hopes that memory might be kind to him and let him forget?

Was forgetting even an option for him?

Every mirror now haunted him. Every reflection an accursed reminder of what he had lost- continually making him question if she was dead or just gone. Missing, or somehow having never even existed… because as far as he could tell- along with everyone forgetting The Wheel and its games- they also forgot those who were lost.

They forgot Zalcoatl was even born.

They forgot Zal was his twin…

They forgot her…

They forgot…

Mourning alone was a cruel, cruel thing.

He wasn’t even sure how to do it…

Was there a right and wrong way to do it?

Was it different to lose someone, than it was to lose your twin?

Whatever Zalcoatl’s final fate was… he didn’t know… yet every night his imagination gave him plenty of new options, new ideas… new horrors.

A part of him didn’t think she was dead. He didn’t feel like she was dead. Would he feel it if she had died? They had come into this galaxy together- grew together… it seemed wrong for them to possibly leave anything but together… And he was still alive- and he felt no pull to leave… so surely- surely, that had to mean she was still alive…right?

Apart of him feared she was gone for good- a part of him wanted to her. Not because he wanted to, or fell any draw- but because surely- it would be right?

He should never have let her go alone. They were supposed to always be together. Maybe as adults with families they’d drift a bit- but they were always supposed to be close, always supposed to be there for each other, always supposed to have at least one person in this whole great wide galaxy to count on… always have one person to fight with, to disagree with, and debate with. Always have that one person who understood them. One person that no matter what… they could reach out to…

But now when he reached out to Zal… all he felt was the cold hard glass of a mirror. Reflections played tricks on him. They weren’t identical. But they were so similar looking. Colors matching, facial structure close, growing at similar rates…

Yet his reflection showed him ear cones instead of points, one purple eye instead of two- her scars instead of his… her clothes adorning the figure that should have been him…

If they couldn’t have gone on the mission together, he should have gone instead of her… the knot of emotions in his gut told him that. The constant questioning of why her… why not him… why not both? Things could have been different had he been with her- things WOULD have been different had he just been there with her….

He wanted to talk to her- he wanted to tell her that he was sorry. He wanted to tell her how badly he wanted to be there for her. How he would never give up on trying to find her…

He didn’t feel like he was trying though. Not because of a lack of want or will- but because there was nothing for him to do now.

Because memory was cruel- and everyone seemed to have forgotten… Well, almost everyone… he supposed he was part of everyone when it really boiled down to it.

But it did make him wonder… did the cultist even ? Did they know the terrible things they had done and encouraged? Were they given the time in between to plan and scheme and cause more chaos? Were they who brought The Wheel back each time?

Or did the forget? Did they get to go back to living perfectly normal lives, in perfectly normal ways, and get to be happy and ignorant of their crimes, and the blood that covered their hands?

And why should they be allowed to be granted such a mercy..?

No…

No.

He couldn’t be thinking of it like a mercy. He couldn’t think about forgetting Zal as a good thing. He felt sick, and angry, and numb, and frustrated, and hate over all of this- but forgetting her? … ….

He spent most of his time now staring in any reflective surface he could find… so very afraid that it was just a matter of time before the wheel took even his memory of her from him….

As badly as he wanted to talk to her… he sat… watching… dreading… as if breaking the silence would break the spell- and all he’d be left with… was his own reflection….

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I hope you all liked both the art and the writing. Assuming the other projects I have lined up don’t take all of my time, I do plan on attempting the next prompt as well, even if it is a bit late- and I would like to encourage you all to give the writing team prompts a try too!

Also! If you have any writing theme ideas you’d like to see for future months, let me know so I can on the ideas to the rest of the team (or tell the team directly yourself- either is cool)

The BRUntold Prompt 1 Blog

Prompt 2 Blog

Writer’s Hotline

And of course- as always:

May the force be with you!