sticks and stones }} aj vs ss

Corrupt god of my own mind,
Under my skin you’ve crawled.
Recall the day I kept you at bay;
Remember how fear had called.

Every night from then ‘till now
Never have I dared to dream
That you would be so kind as to
Leave me pure and free.

Today means amen, and I am yet to understand why.

Jano’s voice has weakened with our time spent together, and the frail nature of his body is beginning to show through the cracks we have left in his skin. “I’m not okay.” Scarred and truthful, he is no longer the partnered liar I had once believed him to be. Though I cannot admire much in him, I can see the value in harsh truth paid for with one’s own life. Inevitable ends are no less petrifying known than resolved as a mystery.

Any man made of a liar’s nature would have the balls to say that now, here submerged in fear and defiance of the inevitable, he was fine.

I did not know if this simple statement of three words made him the strongest man I knew, or the greatest coward still living among us.

His decision is made by his own voice breaking the silence once more, “But you will be. Find Castor, please keep each other safe.”

Another name unknown, I can only assume that the safety of the unknown is the price now paid for his assumed martyrdom. Smiling, unafraid, he bids salutation without he point of finality seen, “Goodbye Asriel.”

He does not fall, and I cannot understand why.

His breath staggered, my sword sits heavy at my side in anticipation of a cannon that does not sound. Instead he strikes out, catching Scarlett lightly on the arm. The cut swells red with fresh blood, but it does not spill over. She is every fire still burning, the recollection of memories that will not turn to ashes in our palms. I do not believe that there is anything less than gasoline in her veins and matches taking the place of her bones.

Goddamn, she must be immortal.

But before I can announce the findings of my mental odyssey, Asriel lunges, and he glaives finds itself stuck in Scarlett’s left arm. Every thought then cross firing across my mind sees no outcome other than Scarlett taking her opposite hand, gripping the handle of the blade and flinging it directly into Jano’s skull. And indeed, she makes a motion for it, but instead of strength and dignity falling from her fingertips, all that can be found is a short gasping breath, a cry of pain, and an air of desperation radiating from her body that causes me to stagger backward.

As she falls to her knees, I find a sense of paranoia taking hold of my limbs, and I bring myself to eye level in front of her, hands cradling her chin and begging her to be the god I had so long yearned to pray to.

Blood trickles from the corners of her mouth and down the curve of her jaw, finding its way to seep between my fingers and down my arms. She could not die now— not when Lazarus was gone and Raven was as good as the same. She could not leave me alone here because finally, I had found someone once again to idolize. I had planned to pour my heart out into her lap when the moment was right because it would show her some kind of love that I could not label.

When her cannon sounds just moments later, her head still cradled in my arms, I find tears rolling down my cheeks, tasting of salt and iron and every form of fear imaginable. I kiss her cheek, no longer afraid of the taste of fate as the sound of Jano and Asriel fleeing fills my ears.

For the first time, I am utterly sober and alone.