Rose Lalonde has always been quite sure she needs no help. I can't say I agree, but I always admired her for her bravery. Perhaps that's what drew me to her in the very beginning. Finding requited waxen feelings in this enigmatic and wicked world is hard enough when you aren't questioning what made you fall for your partner. Most wouldn't care. They'd be content just having their matesprit to love. There's nothing wrong with that, of course. It probably did well to focus on the present, and not the thousands of whys, wherefores, and ifs surrounding it. I had good friends before I met her, and I've made great efforts to maintain them. However, something about the way I felt about Rose was different than the way I felt about them. I'd like to call it love, but I'm very sure that this far, it's been only affection and infatuation.

She has always loved to joke about the mystery surrounding her demise; She claims that each day might be the future anniversary of her last. I beg her not to joke about these things, but Rose is Rose, and she will take that morbid sense of humor to the grave.

Her dying began on this very day, mid-morning, just about the time during which my longtime companions would begin their daily homicides. She always was a bit much to handle when one was just falling asleep. The Sun shone brightly enough through my window to keep me awake, but the dread and panic she would instill in me would keep me sleepless for days.

"It would seem," her first message read, with the same falsely-amused shade of apathy she always spoke with, "that I have mistakenly lent my ears to the Horrorterrors again. What a shame."

"You don't seem to think so," I noted. "You are entirely fascinated."

"Naturally. I've begun attempting to decode their whisperings and rantings. They want me to meet them at The Pit." she said, unfazed. I didn't believe her quite yet. She was playing a mind game with me for sure. A cruel one, perhaps, but she wouldn't be so relaxed about something so awful. And she certainly wouldn't tell me before going off to deal with it. Yes, she was having a little joke.

"The Pit?" I asked. "What pit? Where? Is it in a demonic fruit, or is it the type in the ground?"

"It seems James has landed nearby. I wonder where the Giant Peach is."

She was making a joke of some sort, I could tell, but obviously not a very good one. It was time for her games to stop. "Who is James, and what does he want with you?"

"That was a pop culture reference," Rose said. "I forget how oblivious to human culture you lot are. I suppose intergalactic culture studies aren't very common. I believe this Pit is in the ground, Kanaya. Do tell if you manage to find a suspicious trench."

"A trench? I thought it was a pit," I said. She persisted with her bad joke. Why? Why, in the name of all the universes that ever were, did she continue to make light of a deadly scenario?

"It is," she replied. "But the word 'pit' is so overused. I apologize for my inaccuracy, and will henceforth make an attempt to use proper geological terms."

"Are you going to go?" I asked. There was a pause. Not the natural sort, either. But the kind that hits like a punch in the gut. I couldn't hear the singing featherbeasts or explosions from nearby hives- only the beating of my heart. I put a hand in front of my face to make sure I was breathing. I was, judging by the blast of warm air against my hand. Rose would not answer me. And then I understood.

Rose Lalonde fully intended to walk to her death, and she was doing so willingly. The song of the Terrors was so strong it blocked out her will to survive, unless...

Does she have anything to live for? I wondered, and all at once, the frantic breathing and my beat-skipping heart stopped. I heard my own soul rip itself to pieces. There was me, of course, but I wasn't that important to her, was I?

Obviously not.

I made a point of shutting my husktop dramatically and throwing my arms into the air. I walked a few paces away and stomped once, wallowing in vexation. The fear was real, and I didn't know what to do. Hunt, cry, scream, fight? All of the above would take too long and not benefit Rose in the least. She could die, and she outright refused to give a damn. I had to wonder why

Because she's been cautious for too long, a voice in the back of my mind whispered. She's been logical and level headed in too many dangerous situations. She's frightened this time. The Horrorterrors didn't just hurt her body. They invaded her mind. She lost herself to them. She knows it may happen again.

I knew I couldn't hold her or make her stay where I could keep an eye on her. I knew, that until the Horrorterrors stopped bothering her, she'd never rest again. So now I had to step up. I had to step up and fight the battle she couldn't fight alone. If that meant I'd have to die, so be it.

Better me than her.