oh, brother.
so he tried hard, the great hero, the revolutionary with no filter in his mouth loved and hated by the world in shambles ━so hard he could feel his braincells shatter in a fingersnap, for blood had already started to flow off his scarred mouth alongside anger, despair, a desire to just give a last try after a last try when moments before there was nothing but resignation to a fate that was just written in lines of code embedded within the very tissue of their reality.
( the burden of the guardians was an ugly one, an oh so ugly one. )
and with the taste of metal and debris in his mouth he had taken already another punch from the baroness, his grip almost there to leave his dented sword to fall away, but not yet ━not when the sight of rose’s bleeding, lifeless corpse was just looking at his own shaking carmines with her dead lilacs as eternal reminder, and each exchange would just foment his rage, his desperation, not when there was so much he wanted to do, not when his own breath was still ragged and the groans heavy as they dissipate in the air.
he felt huge hand grasping at his dirty white hair and lift, effortlessly, nails trying to sink into his scalp and reach the bone ━his figure barely struggling in the numbing pain, sure of a few ribs being busted and one of those piercing his lung as each attempt at inhaling air only caused more ache, so much more ache. his trembling orbs went from the lost grip on his weapon to her other monstrous hand holding it and up to her face ━and boy if he felt like giving a new definition to how facing death felt like.
her grin resembled an anglerfish’s. wide, extremely gifted in teeth, and ready to chop his head away with one bite while smearing away her most likely cheap fuchsia lipstick, which wasn’t the scenario he hoped for ( never was, but alas it happened, carved in timestone, unchangeable ).
but the sight of pointy shades, caught on the side while croaking for an insult or two ( “ you will never be victorious━ ” ), even more painful.
@unabscondable
