We fight to protect the….
very
ones
we
mistrust…..
"And so these precious weapons…"
Precious? Precious was gold and silver on black, a uniform belonging to
Precious things people were to be protected-
Oh god so much blood
….if we're so precious…
-the world was rocking and spinning and far too colorful, like the painted spinning top he'd found when-
…..why are you killing us?
Too many deaths –the lights in their eyes just gone. Too many dusty, blood covered graves, marked with too familiar names. But they had won. A pyrrhic victory, but the Earl was dead.
So why?
The order had come, after the last fight. Surviving exorcists, report to headquarters. Immediately. So they had dragged tired bodies –many had to be carried- to ….
old Bookman joined their pitifully small group, Rabi limping behind.
And so they went.
Only to find Komui screaming "Run!" so much terror in his voice, terror for them- as the Vatican carrion Crows lunged seals gleaming-
-the finders falling in willing defense-
-Komui, shot and bleeding to death on the cold floor, still screaming whispering run even as dark eyes cloud over-
-Dragging a screaming Lenalee her legs had been broken in the last battle but they had to get away-
Running.
Then the cold light of spells.
"…weapons known as 'Exorcists'…."
The spell light had dimmed now.
Cold.
Still air and the dark of deep underground.
White hair hung in his eyes as he tried to move, yell, scream, invoke, anything.
Static.
Warmer light. Warmth that vanished as his dizzy gaze landed on what the flickering candles -black candles, somedistant part of his mind noted, oddly amused- illuminated.
Coffins.
One….two…three…
Others –his others- were being dragged, bodies limp like his own, toward the coffins. Not quite coffins though, there was something wrong with the shape….
…four….five…six….
Breath caught in his throat as he tried to scream.
…seven.
"…shall be put away…"
Put away. Lock up the guns, we don't need them anymore.
Move his mind screamed.
Nothing.
He was being lowered into the not coffin. Sharp prick on his normal arm, his eyes were blurring, closing.
Can't see who's burying me.
"…until a new generation…"
Couldn't scream.
Couldn't move.
Couldn't help Lenalee –she had still been crying , eyes unseeing only seeing her beloved brother bleeding to death so close her tears tracing tracks into battle grime.
"…may make use of them…"
The glass cover
Click.
Shut.
"….Amen."
The world slid into darkness.