The sobs continued, a cacophony behind his mind. It seemed a deadly accompaniment to the chorus in his head; some kind of forgotten memory seeking to tear itself upwards. In this, everything canceled out. Everything slid away. Except Rubedo. Clarity always existed for him in this way. And so, Albedo heard the words said like he couldn't hear anything else, he saw the shine of matching tears in his twin's eyes, and for a solitary moment, Albedo felt something that could have passed for a bond trying to reattach itself between them.
But that sound continued, that sobbing now duplicated through memory, fortified through a loss that remained--a sorrow that had become ever-present. And something was wrong about this. Something was inherently wrong that he couldn't yet define. Something beating against him to move, to do something, anything! Anything but lay down and wait for a death that wouldn't come.
...And why, he thought suddenly, would he be waiting for that?
U-DO's presence rose fiercely around him as he jumped backwards into a crouch. Something like his own brand of hate now shone, years and a decade too early for the fierceness of it, the intensity. This, too, lasted only moments--there and gone, now covered up by madness. Albedo laughed, cruel and bitter, tipping into a sadistic humor. "Tell me about it," the entity chorused mockingly, lacking any tones that had passed for normal. "On your deathbed confessing your sins."
He stood, and haze rose behind him, tall and thick. It wavered there, like a shroud flitting in the wind of a soul spirited away; almost like a dream fading from memory, flickering in the dim as if it wouldn't stay. Then it dove down into the now-grinning weapon, extra energy bubbling upwards. He clasped his hands in front of him. "I'll pray over you." Because I will still be alive long after you are gone. There was something bitter underneath, but in this moment, Albedo only felt a smug satisfaction. Wanting death? No, that wasn't him at all! He had transcended above such petty fears, such desperate claims, and the one who wanted death...
Was kneeling before him, broken and proud. Rubedo must long for death, after being the hand to deliver it to so many. After tearing Albedo into pieces to reform into something new and lacking such delicacies that he had before. Rubedo's guilt, his sins, must consume him. To this, Albedo felt something like joy, and his expression heightened, power coalesced faster and shot forth in a line like an arrow, a blur of haze instead of a line of light. "It's over." It came out like a scream, like a whisper. It was a promise, and no longer could it be easily applied to simply one of them. No longer was relief so clear in its path.
Because he didn't want it. (He wanted it.) Life, and the absence of it, was perfect, just the way it was. Now.
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The sobs continued, a cacophony behind his mind. It seemed a deadly accompaniment to the chorus in his head; some kind of forgotten memory seeking to tear itself upwards. In this, everything canceled out. Everything slid away. Except Rubedo. Clarity always existed for him in this way. And so, Albedo heard the words said like he couldn't hear anything else, he saw the shine of matching tears in his twin's eyes, and for a solitary moment, Albedo felt something that could have passed for a bond trying to reattach itself between them.
But that sound continued, that sobbing now duplicated through memory, fortified through a loss that remained--a sorrow that had become ever-present. And something was wrong about this. Something was inherently wrong that he couldn't yet define. Something beating against him to move, to do something, anything! Anything but lay down and wait for a death that wouldn't come.
...And why, he thought suddenly, would he be waiting for that?
U-DO's presence rose fiercely around him as he jumped backwards into a crouch. Something like his own brand of hate now shone, years and a decade too early for the fierceness of it, the intensity. This, too, lasted only moments--there and gone, now covered up by madness. Albedo laughed, cruel and bitter, tipping into a sadistic humor. "Tell me about it," the entity chorused mockingly, lacking any tones that had passed for normal. "On your deathbed confessing your sins."
He stood, and haze rose behind him, tall and thick. It wavered there, like a shroud flitting in the wind of a soul spirited away; almost like a dream fading from memory, flickering in the dim as if it wouldn't stay. Then it dove down into the now-grinning weapon, extra energy bubbling upwards. He clasped his hands in front of him. "I'll pray over you." Because I will still be alive long after you are gone. There was something bitter underneath, but in this moment, Albedo only felt a smug satisfaction. Wanting death? No, that wasn't him at all! He had transcended above such petty fears, such desperate claims, and the one who wanted death...
Was kneeling before him, broken and proud. Rubedo must long for death, after being the hand to deliver it to so many. After tearing Albedo into pieces to reform into something new and lacking such delicacies that he had before. Rubedo's guilt, his sins, must consume him. To this, Albedo felt something like joy, and his expression heightened, power coalesced faster and shot forth in a line like an arrow, a blur of haze instead of a line of light. "It's over." It came out like a scream, like a whisper. It was a promise, and no longer could it be easily applied to simply one of them. No longer was relief so clear in its path.
Because he didn't want it. (He wanted it.) Life, and the absence of it, was perfect, just the way it was. Now.