we tell each other lies /blade death
Aug 1, 2021 13:55:11 GMT -5
Post by gamemaker kelsier on Aug 1, 2021 13:55:11 GMT -5
a v r i e l .
"Everybody dies
And when will I?"
For a moment, the water envelopes him. Avriel sinks below, hands reaching for the surface, half-hearted.
He wears a life vest but the storm rages so strong that it isn't quite enough to keep him afloat. It was anger that had him run into the lake, anger that was supposed to teach him how to swim but he grapples with the wind on his way back, hand wrapped loosely around his prize.
The one person he wants to see again is already gone.
In the raging storm, Avriel's head goes under once or twice again before he pops back up, spitting out water and gasping for air. The water rakes at his throat, it's hard to think anymore, hard to do anything but search for the lake's floor with panicked kicks. He remembers Ariel's advice, something about just relaxing, but that doesn't make sense to him to trust like that.
It's Blade's prone body on the beach that gives him the energy to drag himself out, fingers scrambling to hold onto rocks so he doesn't get swept out again. By the time he reaches her, Avriel is exhausted. Wind whips at his hair, water drips off of him to collect at his feet and he falls to his hands and knees beside her,
He thought he'd have more time.
Her hair is slick from sweat, her body such a mess of blood it's hard to tell where it's safe to hold her so Avriel lifts her head into his lap and brushes her hair back with shaking fingers. "Hey," he whispers as the wind howls around them, "Where are you going, stupid?"
There's a hollowness there, a disconnect from moments before when all he wanted was to push his own knife into Waverly's throat. That hopeless feeling begins to settle again like always and when Avriel shuts his eyes, he thinks of blisters forming on his hands around the wooden shaft of a shovel and the scent of fresh dirt and pine.
The only difference is, there's no one to lie to here. He can't pretend that he didn't fuck up, can't pretend that this wasn't his fault, that he didn't fail Blade. He can't pretend that she's coming home.
And that rage simmers still, that hatred burns in the back of his throat and Avriel shakes with it. Always so calm in practice while that dormant pain waits below.
He shuts his eyes and runs his fingers through her hair.
"Why'd you save me?" he asks quietly, "Why me, Blade?"
"I don't get it."