#sehrpens

wanna dance pretty boy ??????

  ❛ light… ❜

His name escaped Aoi’s lips with a breath, a shake of his head, a melancholic smile. ❛ even after everything… ❜ After everything I did, you still…? He let the hushed query wither with his expression as it turned to that of a downcast smirk. It was a fool’s gambit to trust him now. But, he supposed, it was no easy task to sever the threads binding their past and present; there was no coincidence in that they should meet again, the same way for a third time. This had to be some sort of destiny, written within the morphogenetic field. You know what they say – shared trauma really brings people together!

Aoi closed his eyes. Of all the people to be stuck with – again – it had to be him. Light was perhaps the most frustrating of the first Nonary Games survivors, given his guarded and cryptic nature, and love of finding all the right buttons to push. He found it trying at best to be around him. Although, that could stem from the guilt that arose every time his gaze fell upon him -- it was difficult knowing that the trust they once shared would never truly be the same. 

As such, he was not expecting any words offered in his defense, and certainly not the desperation of a blind man forced to choose which of his teammates should live or die. At least, Aoi thought, he didn’t have to see it happening. A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. As he was released from his shackles and allowed to move freely once again, his first instinct had been to question Light in his choice -- not maliciously, but rather with caution. The answer he’d received was blunt and brief. I did not want them to kill you. They were both shaken from the ordeal, that much he knew. But he could not judge his intent, be it to play upon the cards in hand, or if the words were genuine. His eyes searched for any twitch of Light’s face that belied what he’d said. He was met, however, with a steady and unreadable expression. 

  ❛ – i don’t want you to go dyin’ on me, either. we need to find a way outta here. i’m sure akane’s got some kind of plan brewin’, but i haven’t been able to reach her this whole time. ❜

He paused, folding his arms across his chest.

It had happened so fast. He knew this timeline was doomed the moment Junpei stubbornly chose door three; he knew never to let his guard down – especially around Ace of all people – and yet… 

They had just been talking when the cold steel of a knife pierced him, so suddenly he’d hardly felt it. When the split second of shock drained from his body, he felt only pain. It spread from the knife like lightning; the blood that had begun to blossom stained what was once a pure white shirt. Just his luck, huh? He’d fallen unconscious almost immediately, awake only long enough to hear a shriek echo -- Clover? It must have been. Either it was due to the sight of another being stabbed, or perhaps she herself had been skewered. Regardless, in that timeless moment, he hadn’t a single doubt he would die.

Then he woke up.

It was nigh impossible to stand through the hot pain coursing through him, but he somehow managed it. One hand was used to push himself from the ground, the other tightly clutching the harsh wound. He got lucky, if you could call it that -- considering he still drew breath. Perhaps the quick (though late) step backwards as he’d felt the blade meet his flesh saved him from being hit anywhere too serious. With a great effort, Aoi managed to drag himself up the stairs, hardly even glancing at the body before him -- he knew she was dead. Her bracelet was sitting on the floor, amidst a pool of scarlet. That was more than enough proof. And he had one other thing to worry about; there was still the matter of those still breathing. (a part of him now wished that they had installed that giant screen that listed those who had fallen, an idea his sister shot down due to the fact that hunger games already did that.)

Ace was probably making his escape at this point -- futile as it was. That reflection was little comfort to him now, however; while mayhap he would end in a fiery fate, that bastard still managed to knife him, and kill another. And it was doubtless he would ‘ deal with ’ anyone else along the way, should the opportunity arise. Which, he mused, would probably happen, with our kinda luck. At any rate… there was one other person, one safe from death’s grasp. For now. He had to move quick -- and in his condition, that was no easy task.

Minutes seemed to drag into eternity, his ragged breathing now echoing in the empty halls. Snake had surely awoken from his slumber at this point… there was no time to waste. It’s funny. He knew there was no point; Clover was dead, Aoi himself would soon join her, there was no reason to release Snake from his confines. He’d only suffer more. Still… his movements were almost automatic, as though he was drawn towards that final room through some outward force. Like he had to save Snake -- perhaps it was an impossible desire that if he could only do this much it would somehow cleanse some of the blood upon his hands. Heh. Who knows… maybe this is even more cruel than leaving him be. He was left with these morbid thoughts as he awaited the elevator, and descended to reach his destination. Finally.

As he neared the coffin set atop the altar, he could begin to hear the thump thump thump emanating from it -- Good. He’s still alive. Once-deft fingers slowly found the appropriate numbers, and the lock disengaged. He used what little strength he’d left to push the lid off, and deathly pale hands emerged to aid.

Then Snake sat up. Disheveled may be too soft a word to describe his appearance, though Aoi couldn’t look much better at this point. Words of thanks barely registered to him, as the adrenaline keeping him standing thus far wore off, and he leaned against the now-open coffin. He was plagued with coughing, his limbs felt far too heavy to move, and he was wearing his blood like a perfume. He wasn’t feeling great.

  ❛ ugh… sorry, snake. this is… the best i could do. ❜

He caught some of his response, though his waning hearing was not to be relied upon. Ah... Santa, I take it? Where are the others? … Something terrible happened. A tired smile reached Aoi’s mouth. Just for a moment -- just as he reflected on the events, and as he thought about the position he was in… he probably deserved this, huh? After all this, setting up this game, indirectly killing so many people in so many different timelines… he’s cursed watch it fail. He’s cursed to die. It was almost funny, the irony of it all.

A moment passed, and he realized he’d still not said anything.

  ❛ hah. yeah. about… that. i don’t have… the time to explain it all, but… ❜

-- a pause. He was fading fast, too fast. If only… there was much he wished to tell him, so much he wanted to explain and apologize for. Too much for him now, being so close to the reaper’s grasp. He sighed.

  ❛ i don’t know… about the others, but clover… ace got us both. he probably came through here already... ❜

Clover is…

  ❛ … yeah. i’m… sorry. sorry for everything. ❜

They sat in silence for a time, a weight nearly visible laid upon the both of them. A suffocating, immense weight that was brought with this truth. It was Aoi’s fault -- his and Akane’s. He knew this; he knew he could have prevented this, could have stopped the whole game and with it all the death that it would come to sow. But even in this awful situation, in which he sat dying in front of a former friend, he was still glad. That he was given the chance to see him again, even like this… it alleviated some of the bitter regret.

Snake broke the silence. This will be a tomb for the both of us.

  ❛ heh… you’re one cryptic bastard, y’know that? but… you aren’t wrong. ❜  

He shook his head, eyes closing. The darkness had begun to envelope his sight, and he felt so tired… A moment’s rest surely would not hurt. It might be he would not wake from, though he’d lost too much blood to find any energy to care. Intense emotion left him as did the pain, leaving naught but cold emptiness in its wake. His time was up.

  ❛ guess this is it. i wish… i could tell you more, that we could have... ❜

that we could’ve met again in a different time, a different place... the words wither on his lips. There wasn’t time, he wouldn’t be able to meet him again. Mayhap, in another life. But the grand was descending on his soul’s stage -- the show was over. A performance of which none would live to remember, nor would they the cast. He was fine with being forgotten. Yes... at the end of everything, he was simply happy he wasn’t alone in his final moments.

His last breath left his lips, and with it a whisper, barely audible.

  ❛ goodbye... light. ❜

see, this is a difficult question. a meme is more of a noun or adjective than a verb. it’s something that speaks to you on a very deep and emotional level; something you personally identify with and/or care for. you may use it to describe, say, your sister, for example. or perhaps the poetry or music you write.