brilliant red fields of lycoris;; nisehiro
nisehiro
♥ » "It hurts, Kiritsugu."
Irisviel watched through glassy eyes, staring at him with blood-tinted spectacles. I can't move, Kiritsugu. I can't breathe, Kiritsugu. The black mud is going to melt this body, Kiritsugu.
It was cold, in the field of red, glowing lycoris. Freezing as flecks of red drift down from above, a sparkling beach of clear tar washing unto the spider lily infested shores.
"Kiss me, Kiritsugu?"
Irisviel asked, a small question, a voice of hers that seemed to echo into the star infiltrated sky and the blowing of the flowers on her deathbed, even with the light stain of b l o o d from her mouth down to her chin, glowing r e d marks upon her broken neck, imprinted fingers by the hand that touched his wife.
She lurched once more, coughing, back arching into a crescent. A sort of rabid and untamed flexibility, twisting like someone doing yoga and suddenly stopping, dropping down and smashing scattered petals of red.
One more time, a last wish of hers. 'Come with me, Kiritsugu Emiya; I love you, Kiritsugu Emiya; let us go back to the castle, where Illya waits for us.' Let's smile together, Kiritsugu!
"Kiritsugu?"
