"FUCK IT ALL. I CARED FOR MY PEOPLE. AND FOR FUCKING CARING, YOU FUCKING BREAK ME DOWN. FU-"
THUNK
His voice... stops. Your legs fall weak, as you collapse to the ground. A torn howl rips your body, as your nails claw the red dirt. Red, like his blood. Red, the colour that started it all. Your screeches bother all that are present, and they look at you in contempt. You don't care. They are the ones who should be looked down upon. They are the ones who took him away from you. Your green tears spoil that red, that lovely lovely red, and you pound the ground with your fist.
"BRING HIM BACK. BRING HIM BACK TO ME."
Your voice hitches as your sobs turn into mewls and your body. You look through your matted black hair to the solemn expression of the Executor above you. You hiss, and he looks away. You follow the direction of his eyes to see those filthy accusers manhandling his Righteous Leggings with their tainted hands. Hands stained with his blood.
"NO!"
You pounce on them, and wrench the leggings from their grasp. They seem surprised by your sudden ability to move. You merely glare at them and hug the leggings tighter.
"Disciple."
You turn to see the Executor looking at you, pity overtaking the disdain in his features. He opens his mouth as if he's about to say something, but you stop him.
"Come on! You're going to kill me now too, right? Just do it. There's no point anymore. My love is gone. My leader is gone. Everything... is gone."
You crumple to the ground again, the leggings pressed to your face as you sob. You can hear the trolls behind you shuffling away awkwardly.
"I am going to let you go."
"What?"
You start at this sudden development. What is he doing? You narrow your eyes at him, mouth curling into a snarl.
"Why would you do that? You destroy me once by taking my only love from me, and then break me further by forcing upon me the cruel fate of living without him? Is this supposed to HELP?"
You shoot up, advancing toward the Executor.
"IF YOU REALLY WANTED TO HELP, YOU WOULD HAVE SPARED HIM. YOU WOULD HAVE SAVED HIM. HE WAS GOING TO SAVE US!"
The Executor pulls on his collar, beads of sweat collecting on his face and repeats,
"I'm just going to let you go."
You yowl in frustration, grief colouring your voice. As you prepare your claws to attack him, you hear a pained shout in the distance.
"Disciple! He would want you to live!"
Your head snaps to the sound, the sound of the Dolorosa's pleading voice before her mouth is clamped shut. Her arms and feet are in shackles. She is kneeling on the ground, the drones' claws clamped on her shoulders like a dog with its prey. Tear stains mar her torn face.
You tighten your hold on the leggings and glance away as another groan racks your body. You hear the pounding of the approaching Culling Drones' feet, and you make your decision. You look at him one final time, and then you run. You run past the dripping Executor, past the crowd of unworthy trolls, and past the stains of his red red blood. You run.
The Dolorosa was right. He would want you to live. He would want you to live so that his message would live, and his love. You, his friend, his lover, his Disciple, will make sure of it.