Seeing the sun after more than a century was akin to greeting an old friend after a long period of separation.
Seeing the sun was like watching something that was once beautiful warp into something hideous - but it still took your breath away.
Seeing the sun was everything and nothing.
Death was a constant in Dimitry's life, something that he could not escape and dare he say it - something he could rely on. Death was everywhere, none could escape it, but it seemed fonder of some more so than others. It was with a sardonic smile that he felt as if he were a favourite of Death's.
At first it appeared that he was impervious to death, when he first became this creature. He had thought this because in those long months where he did not drink, seeking the blissful abyss of death, wishing he were able to be with Mary- Yet he did not die. He was weak, he could barely move, but his mind remained, his consciousness refused to leave the earth. Bestowed upon him was truly a curse. Some sort of divine punishment for letting Mary die. He carried the guilt of all the deaths on his shoulders, perhaps misplaced, but when you were in a situation like his, left with nothing but your thoughts, when CORPSES had surrounded him, before he had buried the bodies - you could not help how you felt.
Dimitry had tried to leave, honestly he had. He had overcome the short decade or so after the beginning of it all where he had refused to drink anything at all. He had been optimistic, perhaps he could find others? Although it often felt like he was the only person in the world with how isolated his village was from any and all other civilisations, it couldn't possibly be that way, surely?
Whether it was true or not he never found out. There was something tethering him to this village, like he was a ghost whose sole purpose was to haunt the ruins of his castle. He almost wished he were a ghost, if only for the chance to see other spirits of the dead. Instead he was something grotesque, caught between life and death.
Perhaps there was a way though. Sunlight.
Dimitry had to piece together nearly all the facts by himself, but 'avoid the sun' was one of the few pieces of advice he had been given. Even if he hadn't been told he felt certain he would have figured it out quite quickly. Every fibre of his being seemed to reject the thought of sunlight, primal instincts he had not possessed before were hostile when dawn approached. A sense of growing panic was always present at those times of day. Once he had pushed down these very instincts and passed a hand through a patch of light streaming through an uncovered window. It took only a split second for the burns to appear before he snatched his hand back. It had taken a short while to heal after that.
It was with this experience in mind that he stood outdoors, as high up as he could, awaiting the sunrise.
In a lot of ways Candy vanishing was the last straw for him. Lowered to him was a strand of hope before it was snatched up as soon as it had been given. Cruel laughter seemed to echo in his ears as he had watched her fade away. The how's of the situation weren't important, but rather the why's. What had he done to deserve for all this to happen to him? Was it something he had done in a past life, a deed so horrific he was still being punished for it even NOW? He tried not to think of it but now, in the last moments of his existence, there was nothing holding back the flood of thoughts. He felt his instincts rising, the unfurling anxiety that warned of an approaching sunrise. It was nearly time.
He closed his eyes. He felt the gentle breeze run through his hair. The noises of the animals in the forest were easily discernible with his enhanced hearing. For a moment, everything was still, as if the earth had slowed to a stand still. What would await him after death, he wondered, and felt a chill pass down his spine at the realisation he would soon find out.
He thought of Mary - finally. He thought of her face, her expressions, her smile, when she frowned, the colour of her eyes - everything. It was with great shame that the memories were somewhat faint, difficult to remember. Perhaps he could only recall her face due to all the photographs he kept of her. The thought of seeing her again filled him with courage, like liquid fire coursing through his veins it gave him strength.
He opened his eyes.
A work of art greeted him. The sky painted with streaks of pink, blue, yellow. His head immediately began to ache, as if his body was aware of the fact that it should not have been looking at this sight. It burned into his eyes, and right in the middle of it all, the sun, peeking over the horizon.
Laying eyes on it, he felt himself grow warm. Hotter and hotter, like metal being heated using a naked flame. He let a hiss escape his lips at the increasingly painful sensation, looking down at his trembling hands, to see the flesh beginning to burn. He didn't want to see himself catch fire so instead diverted his gaze back to the view in front of him, needing the beauty of his killer as the last thing he ever saw.
And it was.