w h i s p e r - i t
(the angels come screaming)
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dance
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His last hour was to be spent in the house he had so detested all his life? So be it; he was a big boy now, no longer dancing to the tune of death nor darkness. Because, in truth, he was already dead. His damning certainty came in the form of a blackened tattoo, its serpentine coils already engraved upon his arm; today, however, that mark of death twisted to spell out his sentence: 'DEAD'.
Today was to be a day of harsh truths. The night had been tugging at his strings from the very start, like some sick marionette puppet, wearily twitching and jerking to the commands of his dark master. But they say it takes two to tango, and his dance partner was certainly most appropriate.
Already he could hear her footsteps in the hall, his executioner - for this was not murder, it was simply ridding the world of an inconvenience - hunting him down with her ruthless efficiency, an invisible net which he had so long ago learned to fear, closing, closing, closing…
It was time for Regulus to hang up his ballet shoes.
(because, in truth, he had been dancing his whole life)
-x-
If death takes two partners, it is a sure thing that both will end up dead. So he remembers his last dance (a dance with death, no less), and knows with a sickening assurance that, in truth, he is already dead. Clear as day, the bittersweet memory floats through his consciousness towards him, a mere wisp of curling smoke in the battlefield in the damned. Smoke and mirrors; her speciality.
He remembers her, what she did, and hates her all the more, hates the person she has become, hates the terrible beauty possessing the face that was once his, but his hate is tainted with a sparkling, inexplicable love, ripping and clawing at the edge of his very being as he fights her. And he knows she can do better, and, in truth, he wants her to do better, because then he will be free, free from the bewilderment and vulnerability of this dangerous, hate-filled, beguiling dance.
But Sirius was not to face death without fear; so totally and completely different from his brother, terror clouded his thoughts in his last moments, because surely this was not all life is worth? A smile and a word, in exchange for a human being so utterly complex in every way? (the price of life, or the price of death?) He could see the fire dancing in his murderer's eyes - for this was truly murder.
Pirouette one last time. One last flying leap. Some fancy footwork. A quick duck. Dead.
(because, in truth, he'd been dancing his whole life)
'The angels come screaming' belongs to MCR, (Heaven Help Us) and I get the feeling I've skewed my tenses again? Oh well, some like it... question is, do you? So, pleeease review! 'She' is Bellatrix, probably quite obviously, but I left out her name for the purposes of a mysterious feeling... XD My personification of death is also Bella, just to avoid confuddlement there. Byeee!