The Meme for People Who Hate Happiness
Send me a 💔 and I’ll generate a number, 1-75, and post a starter based on what scenario I get.
33. Your muse must mercy-kill mine.
It had been a hard night of storming, and the day was doomed to be worse.
The winds threatened the integrity of the canvas that held the cement-anchored tent, and loose ends snapped wildly in the wind like whips on the back of galloping horses. At least the tent itself likely wouldn’t blow down, even though floodwater was already starting to collect on the floor.
Ivan laid on a table fashioned into a bed since he’d lost the ability to walk. His back was likely broken, and he was far from regenerating it. Even his skin had whitened, along with his gums, and the fatigue was overwhelming. For an undying being, this looked to be death, and if Prussia were here to verify it, he would have. Until then, Ivan laid there placidly, his eyes in and out, opening and closing, focusing and unfocusing on the person beside him.
He flopped his hand off of his chest to hold Lovino’s while an infantry man burst into the tent. “You have to leave! We can’t stay here! The whole base is evacuating the storm!” Yet, the man appeared to be speaking only to Lovino. Transportation would be limited, and Ivan could hardly be moved without four people, even if he’d lost weight.
Ivan’s hand was wise to it, and it slapped against the holster on Lovino’s side. “It’s okay,” he whispered, trying to speak as clearly as he could. “You can go, but don’t leave me here like this.” He tapped the gun again. He knew he couldn’t go, but there was a way that he didn’t have to wait to get destroyed in the storm, or wait for rescue under the rubble that he wouldn’t be able to escape. “It’s okay. I won’t be mad. No one will be angry. It’s okay.” He tried to tap the gun again, but missed, failing his free hand around while fighting hard to keep his eyes open. He was so tired... Why was the weight of a body so heavy?
