somebody shine a light
I'm frozen by the fear in me

“LEE!” (—don't.)

“LEE, LEE--“ (—please, don't—)

I can't—

His whispers meant nothing, dead words falling from lifeless lips as his warm blood kept spilling out over her—as if it could somehow fall into her silent veins and bring her back to life, make her wake up from this cold marble slumber. She shouldn't be dead—she shouldn't be dead, she wasn't old enough, she was the future, she was hope, she was everything and she was lying cold in her own drying blood.

"No—" he sobbed into her unyielding neck. Faced with the darkness of the world, there was little else he could do. It whispered for him, beckoned to him, rose to a shrieking gale around his ears; what did he have left? His foundation had been torn from right under him, his world brought down brick by brick until someone had just torn the whole fucking thing down, because hey, why not? It was going down anyway, this ship sinking, and still he cried for her, and not for himself, because how could he pity himself when she was the one who was dead?

“….Lee.” She was breathing on his back, near his shoulder, but he just flattened his ears and buried his face against Snö. He didn't want to hear. Didn't want to know. Didn't want to be called back into the cold, cruel world where there would be no more Snö.

It was like losing Psyche all over again; they hadn't met much in their last years, but he could've gone to find her if he wanted to. And now.. he couldn't.. she had burned, black and beautiful and utterly, irrevocably dead.

Their daughter would follow the same path—and he hoped she would not get lost in the winding pathways of stars, but find Psyche wherever souls went when their bodies died, and that they would be happy, up there somewhere.

(Or down there, or wherever the fuck they were.)

And that they would run together and prance together and do all sorts of silly, funny things, and maybe, just maybe, every once in a while look down towards Helovia and watch him struggle on and miss him but not too much—he had to live his life, for them, so that when the time came for him to join them he would be able to .. what, exactly? Tell them all they'd missed out on?

".. how senseless death, how precious life," he said, weakly, exhausted. The world was a cold and empty void, but with Snö lifeless in his arms, how could he turn his back on life?

"Her last thoughts were: 'I didn't get to tell my dad I'm sorry. I didn't get to tell him that I do love him.'" And the tears that fell were slow and silent, his pulse a spent thing, as he peered up towards the distant sky. "I love you, too," he mouthed at the clouds. Had he ever doubted? She had been cold, and distant, let down at every step by him—rightfully disappointed, but had he ever doubted that she felt for him, like he did for her?

He had worried, yes. He had thought it would've been fair if she had. But.. all the pain he had caused her; all the pain she had admitted to—wasn't that the proof that she cared?

Drawing in a ragged breath he lowered his head again, resting it against her best as he could. Snö had been the princess of the Edge—without her, it was nothing.

Without Kahlua, it was nothing.

Without Snö, the world was nothing.

"I don't want to do this anymore," and it was like a hesitant sob, like gently poking a tiger, or feeling a sore; his head was pounding and his chest felt like it was on fire, but what else could he do? How could he rise in the morning with the strength to protect others, and guide others, and care for others, when his mind lay in shambles around the ruins of his heart? His tear-blurred gaze rose with his heavy head, and focused on the first, nearest horse he saw—which, of course, was Roskuld. "I don't want it. The Edge. Take it. It's yours."

And then, he lowered his head again, sagging against the body of his child as he exhaled.

The world could go on without him, even if it came to ruin. He did not care anymore.

[ @Roskuld @Ophelia ]

somebody make me feel alive
and shatter me