i'll be fine without them // woodsmen leisure

Beck searches for Sophie's hand when he runs. They're small and soft, with callouses beginning to form in the places her sword lays heavy. It feels like he's gripping smoke and in a way he's certain he is. His mind a haze of friendship bracelets and splattered blood, of anger and fear and the fact that he's still breathing. And the fact that he might not have been if they'd stayed a second longer.

He was a murderer now. That wasn't anything new, he'd been a reaper since Ikaros but this felt heavier. He wasn't even sure if he knew his victim's name, no matter how hard he searched the depths of his mind he couldn't hazard anything more than a guess. It was all he could to ignore the guilt, filling his head with empty thoughts reaching a wailing crescendo -

itwasbetterhimthansophie.itwasbetterhimthansophie.itwasbetterhimthansophie-

it was better him than me

That was it, wasn't it? He killed him because he was a terribly selfish thing who didn't want to lose his friend and certainly didn't want to die. Sure, he felt bad about it but not bad enough to take any of it back. There was strength to be found within the definitive nature of what he'd done. Beck was a murderer. There was no chance to turn away from that.

He washes the blood off on the riverbank. Like rusted snakes it twists and turns within the current, dancing far out of sight. The traces of Silas and Ikaros and Sarina and a boy he thought might be named William are gone then. He only wishes that they'd carry the memories with them. Those were somehow far heavier.

Sophie helps patch up his wounds, sewing the pieces they'd tried to take from him securely into place. As much time as he's spent playing the part of the fool he can't push away the forlorn feeling that infects him when he looks at her for too long. She looked like an ending. "We can't have many more to go now. Maybe six or seven?"

It didn't occur to him just how callous those words must have sounded. It was a simple truth. He'd promised her they'd make it to the end of this, he'd promised her they'd do it together.

He knows those were empty words made to be broken, but he doesn't want to think about that right now. "I thought it would feel worse, y'know? Killing someone." Cold water slips between the gaps in his fingers, a desperate attempt to erase the warmth she left there. "I feel like a monster but I'm so fucking happy it wasn't you. Or me."

The lies he's been telling himself are so much sweeter than the truth that he can't even taste it anymore. "Guilt is pointless, Soph. No matter who you'll have to kill."

He hoped she'd feel the weight of his words, she was the only person he trusted to.