the fire is alright [tex . seven]
Aug 15, 2022 15:37:58 GMT -5
Post by pogue on Aug 15, 2022 15:37:58 GMT -5
T E X
Texas Lovell walks away from his fight nearly in pieces, dripping blood into the Rivers edge just to watch his own life fade away. His arm hangs on tattered pieces of his own flesh, muscle torn through and pulled apart at the seams, exposed bone and rotting veins plastered inside as a monument to the girl he just killed.
The rain still drums heavy against his form as he finally collapses to the ground, gasps in agony at the slightest of his own movements and curls blood-stained fingers into the sand beneath him. It's a sickening, never ending display, the way the raindrops wash the blood from his form only to be replaced moments later with a new wave of red spilling from his wounds.
He almost breaks, then and there, after taking what was his from a girl that thought it hers, after pressing spear into skin just to watch red come up from the source, after watching Kip die and throwing his own life away into a purple haze. He thinks it something of irony, to go through all of that only to die alone, hurting, blooming red in a storm of his own making. Brown eyes, bloodshot and tinted purple look up to the heavens and know that he will never reach it, met only with the crack of lightning and a reminder of where he is, of what he has done.
Perhaps he deserves this. Deep down, he knows he does.
For a moment, just before the sky looks back, he feels himself fade into a memory, bleeding out into nothingness and disappearing entirely.
But there is still red falling from the sky, purple vials illuminated only when the sky claps with lightning. An audience, a promise.
