#tskymi

It isn’t until a heart-wrenching, loud noise alerts her that she finally turns around. The sight she meets with is something pulled straight from her worst nightmare that she’s never had. Her eyes widen, her mouth goes agape, and her body processes the situation faster than her brain. Despite every limb, every internal system feeling numb, she’s at his side, a hand (sticky with sap from her earlier work) brushing against his feathers. Is she crying? His hand stretched toward her, wiping away tears she didn’t know were falling. As swiftly as she felt the warmth of his fingers, it disappears, collapsing by his side. His heat is draining fast.

Is there an earthquake? Is the world shaking? Or is it merely her blurry sight from hot tears stinging her eyes and her trembling frame leading her to believe that the world beneath her is moving? Finally, a sound leaves her lips, and it’s nothing but a whimper. She can’t hear herself. She can’t hear anything going on around her. The injured have already been evacuated, the villain continues to wreak havoc on the nearby streets. If anyone were beside her, she can’t hear them. There may be someone trying to tear her away, to get her out of immediate danger. Whatever hands decide to touch her, she rips away from their grip. 

She can still save him. This isn’t over. This can’t be over!

Just as before, her outstretched palms are against the gaping wounds, changing the color of her lighter colored skin instantly. It’s too wide to close. It’s too deep. That doesn’t matter, she can still do this. She has to still do this. Nothing she does here is in vain. This is her job – this is the career she’s chosen. She’s chosen to save lives, and what kind of rescue hero is she if she can’t save her own husband?! 

❝… –o! No!❞ Who’s that shouting? ❝Stop it! Let go!❞ The voice sounds so close. ❝I can still do it! I can still save him!❞ 

… It’s her voice. She’s the one shouting. She’s the one being dragged away from the scene, being forced to abandon him, when she promised him she never would. With what little strength she may have left, she tries to tear away from whoever’s holding her, but she’s shaking so terribly. A chill suddenly registers, and she realizes it’s her face – streams of tears had been running down, now cold, and refusing to dry. 

❝… –’s over, Sappire, you can’t do any more! He’s gone. You just ca–❞

❝He’s not gone!❞ She savagely – desperately – cries. It doesn’t matter. She’s too weak to fight back now. ❝He’s not… he can’t be…!❞ Her knees give out, and she collapses. A pair of arms wrap around her, but she can’t feel them. All she feels is an equivalent to a blade stuck straight through her torso, sliced all the way down her abdomen, revealing an already destroyed heart. All she can do is cry. She can’t do anything. She can’t even do her own job.