09-02-2018, 12:35 AM
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as love filled night gives way to day
Hazel couldn't say that she was very close with Roy; but she carried a certain respect for him, as delicate as it was. He liked to challenge Bastille's authority a lot, which left a slightly bitter tang in her mouth, but she could never blame him completely. Hazel would follow Bastille to the ends of the earth - even if he was leading her to her death. So...she couldn't speak too harshly. However, Roy had been good friends with Suite, and he'd been around since Hazel had actually joined the Ascendants. She might not have always talked to him, but she was aware of him; she knew the color of his aura, the manner of his voice.
When it came to the actual death of Roy, Hazel was already tearing up at the cold shiver of Death's claws brushing against her spine. Fear pushed her heartbeat to a rapid pace, ready for the sinking realization that the next person was going to be Bastille. It fit, didn't it? Margy, Suite, Bastille...people she was close to. For a brief moment, adrenaline forced its way through her system and Hazel surged towards the scene, searching for the bond that linked her to the seraph and latching on to it.
Upon arrival, Hazel slid to a halt, the coppery scent of blood slamming into her senses. She just about choked on it and the confusion permeating the air. It took all of ten seconds for her to realize that it was not Bastille, but in fact Roy, and upon the dawn of this discovery Hazel sat heavily, dread sinking against her chest. She snapped her mouth shut, not trusting her voice, and hung her head, eyes squeezing shut because not Roy too. But she had no words, no sentiment to offer; nothing but the feeling that this was the confirmation of an era ending. Hazel wanted to wish Roy well, but found nothing positive in her vocabulary. She wanted to go back to her room, to forget she saw this, to forget about the death that would stain this land; she wanted Suite and Margy back, and she wanted things to stop nosediving every time she was happy. But all she could do was bleakly stare at the ground and try to ignore the trembling of her legs and the quivering of her tail.
When it came to the actual death of Roy, Hazel was already tearing up at the cold shiver of Death's claws brushing against her spine. Fear pushed her heartbeat to a rapid pace, ready for the sinking realization that the next person was going to be Bastille. It fit, didn't it? Margy, Suite, Bastille...people she was close to. For a brief moment, adrenaline forced its way through her system and Hazel surged towards the scene, searching for the bond that linked her to the seraph and latching on to it.
Upon arrival, Hazel slid to a halt, the coppery scent of blood slamming into her senses. She just about choked on it and the confusion permeating the air. It took all of ten seconds for her to realize that it was not Bastille, but in fact Roy, and upon the dawn of this discovery Hazel sat heavily, dread sinking against her chest. She snapped her mouth shut, not trusting her voice, and hung her head, eyes squeezing shut because not Roy too. But she had no words, no sentiment to offer; nothing but the feeling that this was the confirmation of an era ending. Hazel wanted to wish Roy well, but found nothing positive in her vocabulary. She wanted to go back to her room, to forget she saw this, to forget about the death that would stain this land; she wanted Suite and Margy back, and she wanted things to stop nosediving every time she was happy. But all she could do was bleakly stare at the ground and try to ignore the trembling of her legs and the quivering of her tail.
© MADI
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WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better