No more hope rolls for Kashuu!! His hope well has run dry.
Despair rushes back to his shores like it had never left, and he makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat - pain, physical pain, pain over the twist of his bones as they break and jut inside of his body and split through his skin like the spine of a creature, twining around his sword-wielding arm, which crackles with a blood-red flame. Pain at hearing the creature that was once Vin speaking words like that in such a stilted, sorrowful way (or is he the one reading the sorrow into it? How far gone is she, now that he can feel himself slipping?). Moreover, how could he be a friend to anyone like this? When he's failed to save anyone, when he's failed to fulfill his purpose?
The cough, too, is a painful thing. A reminder of a past he'd rather leave behind, and as his attention swivels toward the source almost instinctively, his heart seizes in his chest. His vision is already blurred from blood loss, from tears, from the exhaustion bearing down on him, but he can see that man as clear as he does every time he revisits Ikedaya in his dreams.]
Wait— Okita--
[Ah, but it's too late, isn't it? Always just a step too late.
He watches his most treasured owner die (again, for him, the situation a mirror image of its reality) and watches those he's loved before die with him, the shadow of a memory of their strong, sturdy, reliable, warm hands drifting through his mind like the last flicker of dawn light.
1/2 :3c (also body horror warning)
me: i see,,
No more hope rolls for Kashuu!! His hope well has run dry.
Despair rushes back to his shores like it had never left, and he makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat - pain, physical pain, pain over the twist of his bones as they break and jut inside of his body and split through his skin like the spine of a creature, twining around his sword-wielding arm, which crackles with a blood-red flame. Pain at hearing the creature that was once Vin speaking words like that in such a stilted, sorrowful way (or is he the one reading the sorrow into it? How far gone is she, now that he can feel himself slipping?). Moreover, how could he be a friend to anyone like this? When he's failed to save anyone, when he's failed to fulfill his purpose?
The cough, too, is a painful thing. A reminder of a past he'd rather leave behind, and as his attention swivels toward the source almost instinctively, his heart seizes in his chest. His vision is already blurred from blood loss, from tears, from the exhaustion bearing down on him, but he can see that man as clear as he does every time he revisits Ikedaya in his dreams.]
Wait— Okita--
[Ah, but it's too late, isn't it? Always just a step too late.
He watches his most treasured owner die (again, for him, the situation a mirror image of its reality) and watches those he's loved before die with him, the shadow of a memory of their strong, sturdy, reliable, warm hands drifting through his mind like the last flicker of dawn light.
It's so cold here.]