💔((From whoever you’d like))
1d75 dice results- 35: My muse dies in your muse’s arms.
The soft splatter of something wet on his cheek stirred him. Rain?No- there wasn’t rain here. It was too cold- only snow fell here,but it was so cold that the snow didn’t even melt on his skin.
So what was it? What was wet and falling? Why was it falling? Why wasit so damp and- it tasted of iron and something else, he realized asone of the splatters brushed his lips.
He cracked open his eyes, aware of arms trying to bodily haul him upand move him across the snow. He could feel the biting cold throughhis armor, licking at exposed portions of flesh as blood gushed outand stained the pearly white fluff around them. There was heat at hisfront- wreckage? Something had… Something had exploded, he thought.
Yes, something had- it explained why his front was hot, and why thecold feeling was growing in his limbs.
He blinked slowly, eyes feeling like sandpaper. Purple skin loomedabove him, white hair whipping in the wind like a blizzard untoitself. Lotor was bleeding- blood stained his hair, and was drippinga line down his face and onto Hunk’s as he pulled the heavy humanslowly away from the wreckage.
Hunk tried to breathe deep, but his attempt sparked something in hischest that sent him coughing, hard and sputtering, splatteringcrimson on his lips. Black dots danced in his eyes, and it tookseveral shallow breaths to chase them away.
“Lotor…” He breathed, honey-brown eyes locked onto theex-warlord’s gaze. There was a gurgle in his chest, an ache in hisribs. Something punctured, maybe. More than just the red tidespilling from his middle. “Lotor… You’re bleeding…”
