MOCKERY OF GRIEF.

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TW  †   CORPSE,  GRIEF

MENTIONS   OF  BLOOD

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀”What the hell happened here.” His voice merely brought noise within the quiet alleyway given that the sounds of the festival behind them muffled. With furrowed brows, he scanned the vicinity with steps that moved forth until it landed on a small limp body, taking in every detail whilst the heart thrummed against his chest rapidly. “What… What the fuck?” Eyes widened at the grotesque display.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀”Five…!” Voices brimmed with joy that became surprisingly coherent within the alleyway; the Kiss of Aurelius and Sylune overhead was about to commence; it was a medley within his mind driven with incessant tirades. Roman took a step back, hands shaking as he kept scrutinising the corpse, unable to take his eyes off of it as if he were in a trance. The same horns that he ed before, clothing, and height despite being in a fetal position. “No… I-It… It can’t be.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀”Four!” Cheers bombarded his ears, eyes gathered with tears. No, it can’t be him! No, no, no, no, no, no, no! His heart was ladened by fear at the thought of his own kin resting in the pool of his own blood. He blinked once, twice, thrice, to see if he was hallucinating, letting the beads of tears trickle down his cheeks. No masculinity could chalk up the fear of losing his own family.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀”Three!” Only three steps confirmed his darkest fear, abruptly making his way to the body, his broad arms held onto the boy dearly, tears downpouring his cheeks while he profusely blurted out questions left unanswered. Lips pressed against the now cold temple as he tried to soothe the pain that had already diminished, a glare towards the vampire before landing towards the gun glinting upon their grasp. “I-it’s gonna be okay, Dalisay. No one can hurt you… i-I’m…” His voice weakened by a shaky exhale. “I’m here, boy.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀”Two!” The cheers rang louder through the alleyways. Roman’s hand, afraid to even graze his deceased kin despite holding onto him dearly for one last time, tightened around Dalisay’s neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He chanted like an atheist turned into a desperate supplicant; feeling the warm liquid sprawl across his hands, turning his flooded gaze to where he can feel it seep.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀”One!” The last number, the one last time he’ll see his nephew’s lips widen with glee and giggles, the one last time he’ll see that fucking vampire in front his him; he raised his chin up, seeing the blonde’s figure more clearly as fireworks bloomed overhead the frontages hiding them from bystanders. Fireworks sizzled and cracked as a kaleidoscope of vivid colours painted the dusk as if snickering from his grief. A mockery.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀”You… You killed him! Son of the devil!”

creds;; Ilya Repin // Maple12031