@betterscience
ca event: “dreamscape”
This is familiar.
Yet, no matter how many times Hanzo relives this moment, it never gets easier.
The heavy air of the castle atrium chokes him. It had been a still night, with rain earlier in the evening leaving the atmosphere leaden with humidity and soaking the walls with the sickening stench of blood. Sweat had his fringe clinging to his forehead, yet his nape is burning not from a curtain of hair, but from memory. This is how it was that night.
The fabric at his knees - still flesh and bone, not metal - draws blood to his skin like a sponge, still warm. Dragons etched into his left forearm are dappled with it, too. They seem uncaring. Cold. They do not speak to him, not now, and not for years afterward. When he calls them to feed, they will answer, but they do not offer him guidance any longer.
Hanzo is alone. The body before him, where he kneels, is still. Life having long since left it, yet the youthful glow of the face has yet to disappear. How Hanzo will forever remember him, for how can he see him as anything other than the younger, idealistic brother who wanted only to live a free life? A dream that had been ripped from him alongside his last breath by his own elder brother.
It shakes him. The lips looked like they were moving, but Hanzo’s dark gaze jerks away. It does every single time. When his eyes focus, they are upon a lithe figure between the tall lanterns, who he momentarily mistakes for his mother.