Blood, it's a funny thing. They say it's actually purple instead of red, when it's inside our bodies. Something to do with a reaction with oxygen in the air I think. Blood is beautiful, the colour i mean. It's the colour of poppies and of ribbons, clay and traffic lights. The intricacy of it, like the rest of the body, is marvellous too. But it's not so beautiful when it's falling down a friend's body.
Ruby red rivers flowing down his arms, his head, his chest, slowly gathering in a pool beneath him. A copper-y red track on the wall he had tried to lean on before collapsing. Crimson tears running down his face, through his matted, unkempt hair. Dark agonized eyes pleading. Pale weak arm reaching out; a hoarse voice utters the words "Save me..."
But, why? Why do you reach out to me, when I did this to you? When I couldn't save you from your golden eyed tormentor, your other half? I was powerless to protect myself from the deadly white feather, and you jumped forward and took my place. I was unable to save you as you were beaten and broken in the black wings.
Daisuke awoke with a start, the tears still falling down. Dreams like this keep him awake at night, killing him from the inside out.
"I'm so sorry, Dark."