.[ they bury her next to her mother and aunt; lungs beneath fragile layers of flesh and muscles fill with blood and dirt, clogging and pilling in mountains. the static of silence doesn't relieve the ringing in his ears nor does it mute the ghosts of allison's voice. it's been days since— the burning of death still smokes through veins and arteries, gasoline still ribbons as a mockery of his own blood. he can't remember, can't pierce through the cobwebs weaving in the hollow tombs of his mind; he's forgotten what it was like to breathe without death burrowing between the spaces of his ribs. air flits in staggering, unsteady bouts but scott attempts to focus himself, tries to find an equilibrium to keep himself afloat from drowning in the shadows of grief. there's no balance—how could there be when— the ground beneath his boots works as the only stability, enough to keep his head above the waters and he tilts his head towards kira, voice scraping past his throat. ]
"—I should take you home."
[ the cemetery is only gasoline, dripping and spilling in rivers and he can't fathom to see kira in the middle of the fire bound to spread the longer they stand in its puddles. ]
