The Venom of a Basilisk || Self-Para
It came as a shock. He hadn't expected it. He moved too slow. He let his guard down for just a split second - and that lapse in judgement is what made all the difference. This was supposed to be easy. No one was going to get hurt. They were working together in unison to take down a monster. And yet, Hansel stared at the long jagged wound in his forearm, bleeding out and onto the stone floor. Bad. It was... bad. This was bad. Shouldn't be happening. "Gre- Gretel."
He stumbled back, his world turned on it's side and he toppled over as his legs gave out from under him.
And there was Gretel. He knew it was her, even as his vision darkened around the edges, as his body stiffened, as his veins turned black with venom. He would always know it was her. He could see she was saying something. Her lips moving rapidly, her eyes wide and her hair flyaway. Hansel's breath came sluggishly, in and out slowly as his body began to fail.
She grabbed his forearm. She applied pressure to his wound. She was shouting. She was screaming. She was turning to look over her shoulder for someone's attention and then back to Hansel with a wild expression that Hansel couldn't recall ever seeing before. Why was it getting so hard... so tiring to think back. To his parents. To his childhood. To the Arena. To the Capitol. To even just this morning. All the people he's leaving behind... they were fading fast even as he desperately tried to hang on.
He was dying. He should be panicking. He should be afraid. He wasn't ready. He had things to do, and problems to work out. But he was just so tired. Gretel was screaming all the harder, but Hansel couldn't hear her. The world had long lost it's volume, and now it's color and finally his sight altogether. How could a single minute turn to hours? Hansel gasped in a breath, fighting against the pressure that was resting on his chest, the venom racing to his heart. To stop it. To end his life. To think he'd die in the Arena. In the Capitol, as a message to the rebels or a torture session gone wrong... No. He would die here with his twin sister watching on, in the depths of a school, with a giant snake the cause of his expiration.
Hansel's hand found Gretel's and he gave a light, weak, squeeze to which she responded to immediately, grabbing his hand with both of her own. "Gretel... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." came tumbling out past his lips. She moved to pull him up to a half sitting position. Her arms tight around him as she stroked his head, brushed his hair off his forehead and pleaded with him to stay focused. Stay awake. Stay...
He was gone.
