it's... been a while! but hey. i'm back. i missed ff a lot.
summary: feferi and eridan go hunting for angels after she INSISTS on helping him with it. this is the aftermath.
What would you do if you saw your moirail being torn apart by the demons - ironically nicknamed "angels" by you - that swarm your planet?
What any rational person would do. Go to save them.
What would you do if you've already lost the battle and she's fading fast?
What any rational person would do. Seek shelter.
What would you do when all hope is lost?
What any rational person would do. Live in vain, hoping that one day, you'll stumble upon it and embrace it like an old friend.
"Hey Fef?" His voice drawled with exhaustion, weak as a whisper but still as forceful as ever. He was watching the water drip from the stalactite through the crack in his glasses, ever so slowly trickling into the shallow pond beneath. Apart from the occasional drip of the water, the only other thing that could be heard was the heavy, labored breathing of the two seadwellers damaged beyond repair. He feared that she would heave her final shaky breath soon. "Fef, answwer me god damn it."
She moaned in response; her throat was far too sore to even attempt to vocalize the words that numbly rang in her mind. Grunting, he dug his nails into the ground, his legs flaccid behind him. Dragging himself over to her on the opposite edge of the cave where she lay unmoving was torture. His limbs, his midsection, his neck, every joint and body part protested, screaming in agony for him to stop. With a final haul, his body refused to do anything else and fell to the floor.
The luminescence of the moon pierced through the veil of darkness that he had fought with to hold her hand. When he raised his head to examine her, his breath hitched in his throat. Her fins hung loosely by her face, the velvety skin shredded into pieces, and her gills were beginning to crust over with her magenta blood that had turned into a mauve-ish hue in the span of two days. Infected cuts and scratches covered her usually blushing, freckle-dotted cheeks. All the life seemed to be extracted straight from her; the only sign that she was still with him was the occasional flutter of her eyelashes.
"I'm…"she croaked, "going to… die soon, aren't I?"
Yes, Fef. I'm so sorry, this is all my fault. "No, don't be fuckin' ridiculous!" He cupped her face gently, bringing her gaze to him, his fingers finding themselves desperately entangled in her hair, kneading her scalp. His lips pressed wet kisses against her jawline, before murmuring in a voice that quavered despite his attempts to keep it composed, "Life can't die, you idiot."
Eridan caught a glimpse of her sad, knowing smile. "No." Her breath tickled his brow. "Not when there's hope to keep me alive."
The smell of dampness lingered in the air, but her smell – the scent of the sea and fish mingled together – overpowered anything else. It comforted him as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. With sudden strength she clung to his arm with a viselike grip.
"Don't leave me!" Her eyes were frantic, her facial expression manic. A sheet of sweat glistened on her upper lip, her chest rising and sinking rapidly. "D-don't… you dare… leave me! Th-they'll get me, they'll get me, I know they-"
He clamped his hands over her mouth. Her muffled struggling echoed off the cave walls, before she lay still and languid, not gasping for air anymore.
"I'll kill evvery single one a them. Evvery single angel. This is what they did to you…"
He didn't know how long he laid there, holding her hand, but it was long enough for them both to fall asleep – if by asleep you meant fits of light slumber that he drifted in and out of throughout the night.
His eyes fluttered open when the sun's rays streamed in. Instinctively, he called out Fef's name to wake her up, louder each time she was unresponsive. He whirled around after the sixth try, flames of dread licking him from the inside out.
He became coherent of his senses. The pungent reek of emptied excrement hovered in the air and the realization dawned on him.
"No, no, no," he yelled, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. "Wake up, Fef! Wake the fuck up!"
The hysterical state he was in passed, too, leaving him feeling numb and alone. He stared at her corpse through eyesight blurred with tears.
He was the Prince of Hope, and as the Prince of Hope it was his job to know when all hope was well and truly lost.
And now, as he let sobs rack his body and nestled into her chest, he saw it crystal clear.
There was no hope. None at all.
Eridan Ampora sat in a stone chair, withered – very much like himself. In his hands he held a weapon that was once considered legendary, but was now one of the most common weapons around. It had chafed and scratched over the years, but it killed well and that was all that was required of it.
How old was he now? 500 sweeps? More? He couldn't remember. Not that it mattered, anyway.
Sighing wistfully, he set his weapon aside an let his eyelids drop over his tired, bloodshot eyes. When the blazing Alternian sun sank, another day of massacring angels would start.
"I'm still doin' it Fef. Doin' it all for you."
He never lost hope. Not even once.