agamid: (dion091)

[personal profile] agamid 2024-04-11 05:01 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The wrong memories come to the surface. The memories of someone born a curse, not a blessing. The memories of someone reviled and hated, and not someone lauded and admired. They are the memories of someone who lost the battle against impulse and violence, and went through life taking one life at a time.

(But, the memories of this person still contain far less carnage.)

And that person, thinks it's lovely when the blood gurgles out of Diluc. That person thinks the red that dribbles from his mouth and chin suits him where it turns his skin red, and soils the clothes usually so meticulously kept.

He admires Diluc's dignity, cultivated through years of wrath and tamed temper. He admires his steadfast resolve, honed into a blade after years of being a blunt hammer.

He supposes that he may as well admire him here too, in death. ]


Diluc.

[ Red lines his throat too from the shallow wound from the wire, and he staggers back once it falls away with Diluc. He watches him crumple to the ground, and sinks to his knees.

Diluc often reminded him of the Phoenix: an unwavering symbol of hope. ]


It's alright. [ He settles a hand on Diluc's shoulder to help him sit upright on the ground as best as he can. ] I'm sorry too.

[ And then he lifts the lance in his other hand, and drives it through Diluc's heart. ]