[Hector fled towards inhibition as if its supposed, fleeting grasp may release at any moment. His ideas were a farce, for it would not let go; Its love strong as iron made by any smith, which for millennia had held back the waves of anguish. Distraught tears the intellectual child cried, he was fighting against its intimacy because to him it was a raging fire intent on destruction. He saw it as a mediocre confinement destined for ruin, its purpose a remedied means for emotional definition. In Hector’s nearsighted and muddy perspective she was a translucent bastard and allowed for only wit and provided grassy illusion. Becoming of sound mind was nowhere near as he had viciously cut prospect into his bloodied and scarred skin; reminiscent of a time for only enjoyment and healthy prosperity.
This paltry being continued upon the ragged path till idiosyncratic injury protruded. His tides calmed as this single motion made petty his fears and wistful past. Lured forth by his quaint marks, Hector became what was meant. Faded mokes may label it fate or destiny, but there is no such thing…and without divine insult, to do or not is all he decided; knowing full well that ideals drawn upon tainted silt are nothing more than a passing mirage, dependent upon time alone.
And yet he was no longer solitary. Her loving hands grasped firmly within his, the vast ocean of her opaque cerulean eyes staring back into his very own. All lost to him except adoration of life and its exceptionally meaningful beauty. His being was placed firmly; held in her dainty pale hands as if it were a living, beating heart… but it was more. Hector was more than a beating heart, which he now accepted as blithe tacit. Bland antiquity growing towards callous ingenuity, but altogether composed of an embellished blonde.]
Its absolutely perfect in my frail mind… I hope you enjoyed,