Nix: .....You lied to me.
*The broken mage whispers, his voice hoarse and raspy from the sharp branches that had torn his lungs and throat to shreds.
It had been 3 months now, since Atira's diagnosis. 3 months since she had turned down his request for surgery, persuading him to give Astraea some time instead.
Little did he know, that 2 months later, the princess he considered his guiding light would disappear. And now, the former guard stood atop Mt. Ebbot, facing the mage of Kindness amidst a war torn landscape stained with the blood and dust of the fallen.*
Atira: Nix...You have my condolences. I am so sorry, I truly never-
*He repeats once more through heavy gasps for air, his eyes finally meeting the healer's. The cyan of his iris' gives off a weak glow amidst the pitch black liquid cascading down his face.
Like two dying embers in the dead of night, on the brink of being extinguished.*
Before she left, she said....she did.
*The words die before they leave his lips, drowned out by the dry coughs and hacking of his condition. The flowers that had once symbolized his love, were now replaced with chrysanthemums to display his grief for all to see. They spill from his mouth and fall from his hand, their delicate petals blackened as if dipped in ink. Atira stares, her hands quivering as she gathers up every ounce of strength she can muster to not let her magic slip from her control. She did not dare to sample even a fraction of the dying man's grief. The war had done enough to her heart.
Resonating with the emotions of one who was corrupted...Was too risky.*
Atira: I...Have not experienced the disease myself. But it is widely agreed upon that the cure...Is for the sick individual to hear a confession from the one they love. A confession that reciprocates their feelings. But for you...Because her passing followed her confession so soon-
.....Nix? Are you...Listening?
*She pauses, taking notice of the man's hollow gaze and lack of acknowledgment. He had already known the answer to his own question. It didn't matter that she had returned his feelings. She died mere seconds after. Was he supposed to be grateful for that? How was this any better?*
Atira: If...If you understand why...
*The healer sighs pitifully, struggling to find a solution.*
I can do the surgery for you. If that is what you want, then I will-
*With a defeated sigh, he turns to leave, his eyes devoid of emotion and his movements mimicking that of a machine on the verge of collapse.*
Atira: A-Are you sure? It is the least I can do...It will not take long-
Nix: No. I said don't bother...
*Confused and wracked with grief, he stumbles onward, his decision final.*
I don't plan on living much longer anyway.
