He approached the center of the Sun Room wordlessly, his feet padding quietly against the rough texture of the rug. The movement came without conscious thought or effort. Automatic, as though his presence was the most natural result. Instead of running away. Instead of keeping to that order. Rubedo would be so angry, but the youngest could not ignore that glimmer of peace, of that distant hope of a fight's end.
Truth, unfortunately, proved cruel.
Moonlight from overhead illuminated the scene before him. The details slowly unfolded, like words on a page: a brother standing barely on his feet, smell of charred flesh hanging in the air, gunpowder mixed in blood choking senses. A mess at Rubedo's feet, only recognizable by the uniform and the glow. Light worked at the unidentifiable ends as recognition rose fiercely at the sight. Nigredo understood almost immediately, and in that moment, he felt reality crumble just a little bit, as though his constitution was built of sand.
For Albedo was Albedo, but not. He was shot down (shot through), head gone and pieces missing. His mind associated this to the time in the courtyard, but in retrospect, this was much worse. Much, much worse.
After all, the one responsible wasn't Albedo's innocence but rather, his own twin.
The emotions formed since the beginning of the night bubbled over, and the child choked out a sob, loud enough to perhaps alert the eldest. Something shook within him, something tore and died, and believing his brothers had tried to kill each other, Nigredo wept.
no subject
He approached the center of the Sun Room wordlessly, his feet padding quietly against the rough texture of the rug. The movement came without conscious thought or effort. Automatic, as though his presence was the most natural result. Instead of running away. Instead of keeping to that order. Rubedo would be so angry, but the youngest could not ignore that glimmer of peace, of that distant hope of a fight's end.
Truth, unfortunately, proved cruel.
Moonlight from overhead illuminated the scene before him. The details slowly unfolded, like words on a page: a brother standing barely on his feet, smell of charred flesh hanging in the air, gunpowder mixed in blood choking senses. A mess at Rubedo's feet, only recognizable by the uniform and the glow. Light worked at the unidentifiable ends as recognition rose fiercely at the sight. Nigredo understood almost immediately, and in that moment, he felt reality crumble just a little bit, as though his constitution was built of sand.
For Albedo was Albedo, but not. He was shot down (shot through), head gone and pieces missing. His mind associated this to the time in the courtyard, but in retrospect, this was much worse. Much, much worse.
After all, the one responsible wasn't Albedo's innocence but rather, his own twin.
The emotions formed since the beginning of the night bubbled over, and the child choked out a sob, loud enough to perhaps alert the eldest. Something shook within him, something tore and died, and believing his brothers had tried to kill each other, Nigredo wept.