▲ with @redrosethrone??? maybe survivor!charlie and william???? let's kill the funny magic man :)
Send me a symbol! [Angst] - accepting!
▲: my muse’s dying words as yours holds them - @redrosethrone
The dawn had broken above them, covering the Constant’s land in warm hues, light reflecting off birch leaves in a mesmerizing pattern of beauty William found himself staring at as gentle hands dragged his swaying body to the ground.
It was day, yet the warmth refused to reach him, leaving him feeling so, so, so cold.
Yet every inch of him was burning, agony that claimed him was stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. It felt as if he were underwater, so numb yet the currents biting, threatening to drown him. At least the screams ( they’d been his own, hadn’t they? ) had stopped, leaving nothing but the sound of his own ragged breathing and the ringing of his ears to deafen him.
He was lying in a lap, body leaning against the embrace of another. Liquid dribbled down his chin, his chest, his body, staining white fabric. Perhaps the sight of red should have alarmed him, yet instead he almost found it calming. Let them escape him, be free of him. They’d never been his to keep anyway, had they?
Faintly, he registered he was being spoken to, though he could understand a word that was said. His head and body screaming at him still.
“ It's okay, it's— it's okay. ”
The words were strained, barely over a whisper. It hurt to speak, to breathe.
The night had smelled like roses. Cloyingly sweet.
It’d been— It’d been pleasant. He liked it, he’d always been fond of the scent of roses. Right until his lantern had gone out, leaving him alone ( but not quite ) in the encompassing dark night a second too soon.
A small laugh escaped him, breathless, a touch hysterical. He— He couldn’t understand what happened. He knew he’d been warned time and time and time again about the night. He knew and yet he’d been foolish, venturing out with nothing but a flickering lantern. But he hadn’t expected— he didn’t— he couldn’t understand. It felt as though he were mad, or perhaps it was nothing more than the blood lost.
What he did know was that Charlie— Charlie was there. She was there.
She was there. She was there, he wasn’t alone. God, he didn’t want to be alone. Not again, please god not again—
He curled closer against her, desperately attempting to hold onto her, desperately trying to escape the pain he felt. It hurt, it hurt so much, it hurt more than— the smell of smoke, people screaming, the sound of metal crumpling like paper as he felt his body go weightless shattering glass before—
It hurt.
“ I— I'm sorry. ”
The words slipped out of him, unbidden. He didn’t know why he was apologizing, but it felt so right to say tears finally flowing down his from his eyes.
She smelled like roses, such a pleasant smell. He wished he could drown in it.
“ I'm— I'm so sorry Charlie. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Charlie I’m— ”
The apology refused to stop falling from his mouth, even as it got harder and harder to breathe, even as pauses from his gasping breaths got longer and longer, he couldn’t stop. The words were poison, revealing his sins, his crimes. A list so long yet why couldn’t he even remember.
If he was at all coherent, William would’ve be disgusted with himself. Charlie was nothing more than an acquaintance met in an unfortunate circumstance ( but that was wrong, she was so so so much more )
He held her fondly, he’d like to consider her a friend, of course, but truly he had no business in bleeding his heart out over her—
Except, he wasn’t coherent. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t think and all he could feel was that it hurt. He was going to die, wasn’t he? He didn’t want to die, he deserved it, he knew but he didn’t want to he was scared and he couldn’t let go of Charlie and it hurt it hurt it hurt he wanted it to stop please just make it stop he didn’t want it to stop make it stop.
“ —I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I’m sorry ‘m sorry ‘m sorry ‘m sorry— ”
The apologies continued to pour out of him, panicked, no matter how painful it grew to speak. He had to let her know, he had to let her know before he died, he had to, he had to, she had to know, she had to know he never meant it— that he never wanted it he never he never he had to let her know he was sorry—
Until the words finally started to slow down, leaving one last pause that stretch on a bit too long to hope for another. His grip going limp in her embrace, glasses slipping off as his head lolled to the side.
His last breath, given to her. For her.
It felt so right, righter than anything else he’d done since waking up in this strangest of worlds, so how could he do anything but to die with a smile?
