Pairing: Davesprite x Bro Strider
Warnings: Stridercest, Course Language, Character Death
Word Count: 644
Authors Notes: The final part of my trade with a friend of mine, this turned out quite well for something written at 4am, in my opinion anyway. This probably wouldn't have turned out so well without my lovely beta JT too~ I just hope you all enjoy it, feedback and concrit is deeply appreciate~
The blood that spewed from spitting wounds, the flash steps amongst the ominous green glow, the hissing clang of swords ringing in your ears, the totality of it all was almost too much to take for you, a practically newborn sprite. But you were Dave Strider, maybe not the one from this timeline, but one nonetheless, and if you knew anything about being Dave Strider it is that you don't back down in the face of fear; instead you sit there with a dirty smirk on your lips and laugh in its face before laying a smackdown on it with a smuppet's ass if you so wish it.
You're still Dave Strider, and with Bro and Lil' Cal at your side you knew you couldn't fuck this up. So what if this was Jack fuckin' Noir? Who cares if this baddie had some serious bite to his bark, either way you were going to end up whooping his ass so hard he was going to go crying home to his mom who would probably kicked him out anyway 'cause he was that lame of a shitty son. Wait, did carapaces (or what was once one anyway) even have parents? Doesn't matter. With your own katana in hand you decided to take up strife with this motherfucker and tag team his ass with Bro and Cal because playing fair is for chumps.
At first, it all seems to go so well, everything was in your favor and damn you were going to revel in this victory for awhile. Who cared about sounding like an egotistical prick and the fact you didn't do this alone, you still beat this asshole into the ground like it was nobody's business and god it was going to feel good. But dammit all, that was not how it went.
And really, all had happened so fast you weren't quite sure what to make of it.
In a matter of seconds, you found your gaze afixed to his limp form. His chest was no longer drifting up and down in shallow breaths but remained still, his skin pale and cold. With his eyes wide open and unblinking as green flames reflected in them, the sword that stuck upright through his chest like a beacon of doom screamed at you in a thousand ways the horrorterrors could never reach you. Solid ruby red blood pooled around him, staining his white tennis shirt and clinging to his blond locks like death's grip, you knew that was it. Bro was dead and ultimately you had done nothing to stop it.
And it hurt even more because for you, this was not the first time that you had failed to save Bro.
No, this was now the second time you had to let him go.
In that moment you found your eyes on the bastard that loomed above him, the fucking disgusting smirk that showed those razor sharp teeth still evident on his face, against the black inky backdrop they called skin. And while you wanted to feel rage, a sense of revenge flooding through your senses and take control of you, there was nothing of the sort that filled your hollow consciousness. You could try to be more poetic about the matter, but quite frankly there wasn't anything poetic about the situation, let alone a way to stress exactly what you were feeling.
It was just nothing but absolute terror.
Alone on the battlefield with Jack gave you a sense of impending doom. You knew that if you stayed here any longer you would most definitely follow in Bro's footsteps. And so with a heavy heart full of cowardice, you turned around and flew away, far far away from Jack and Bro's dead body and from the memories of your own failed timeline.
Because even more than a Strider, you were a run away.