Her own words haunted her.
"I had someone very dear to me change."
"This is all just...very familiar."
"But you're not him."
"I want to trust you."
"I need you to promise me that you regret having to do what you did."
The preacher on the soapbox made pariah, forced to eat her own words.
This time, she would be the one regretting.
All she had ever known was loss.
Her parents, of whom she had no memories.
A peaceful life, rendered impossible simply for what she was.
Someone to lean on, only for her to find a monster behind the mask.
Belonging and love, only for the other to pay the ultimate price.
She didn't ask for this. She didn't ask for any of this. Her life had always been devoid of choices, each day a grotesque reminder of the predestined gears already in place, a crimson carpet laid down before her feet down which she had no choice but to walk.
And when she finally found the courage to be defiant, when she could take no more, of him, of everything… when she finally found acceptance and friendship. When she was finally just beginning to heal…
This is what she gets in return?
She let out a choked, crazed sob.
Blake felt as if he were right there, behind her, his grip tightening around her neck, slowly squeezing the life out of her. She thought she had run away far enough. How naive. He will never stop chasing.
Their last conversation echoed in her mind, uninvited.
"I didn't want this! I wanted - I wanted -"
Equality? Peace?
No.
In that moment, she just wanted to disappear. To stop existing. To exist was too painful. Her existence was too painful. For herself...and for those she loved. She looked down at Yang, her breathing shallow and weak, and her face so, so pale.
An hour ago she had been so full of life, so full of anger. Yet Blake could do nothing but reach out her hand. Do nothing as they clashed. Do nothing but watch as Yang arced over her in flight, her expressions flashing from shock, to pain, then to nothing, before crumbling like a ragdoll. She had felt a wet drop fall on her cheek, striking her like a hot brand.
Yang had been crying.
For her.
How she had even made it to Yang's side was a miracle. When Adam swung Wilt to reap her life, her eyes for once would not close to avoid the reality. As she watched the blade approach, she couldn't even open her mouth to beg or plead or pray.
Please, save us.
Please, save Yang.
That's when the second miracle occurred.
Something inside had taken a hold of her. Her vision shimmered, and then Adam was no longer there. She looked behind. Yang was still there, with her back turned.
She looked left. And there was Adam, blade still mid-swing at a clone of herself, defiantly protecting…
Yang.
Dumbfounded, she shakily reached out to pull the real Yang into her arms. Her semblance had never done that before. She thought she could only clone herself.
She shivered, and instinctively knew her clone had faded. Adam turned, and their eyes met.
So she did what she does best. She ran, carrying Yang, with Adam's cruel voice hounding her mind.
You will run.
She was nightshade, a poisonous flower that can bring nothing but death. If she'd never met Yang, if she'd never enrolled in Beacon… for an insane second she even thought if she had never met Adam, then he wouldn't have become so warped…
She remembered a sketch lovingly made in a school notebook...
How did it become like this?
She didn't ask to be born. She was a life unwillingly created. Destined to bring only suffering to those around her.
She woke to the embrace of darkness.
Was this death?
She felt like she was drowning.
In the back of her mind she thought that she was dreaming. But it felt all too real.
Just like the second time she saw her mother.
How had she forgotten about that dream until now?
With every heartbeat, her body felt weaker. As if her life force was being pumped out of her and into the emptiness, so black and devoid of life and light except for the cascading stream of gold…
She couldn't help but reflexively trace toward its origin.
When she found it, the drowning girl rent the silence with a hollowed scream.
When she came to again, she was still falling.
But this time, she tried to be mentally prepared. Tentatively, she tilted her head to the right for a better look.
Her arm was gone.
It was a clean cut. She didn't even question why it glowed gold.
She had to fight the urge to vomit.
Memories began to replay like they were not her own.
A smiling woman, clad in white. The warm smell of baked goods. A small infant bundled in red, peacefully sleeping. Ruby.
A cleaving scythe, a look of relief that sent a wave of flush up her cheeks, knowing she barely cheated death. Qrow.
The smile of camaraderie, sheer gratefulness for her trust after that terrible, terrible final round fight. Weiss.
A chess piece. Dancing. A warm hug. Tears that unconsciously welled up when she didn't initially believe. Concern. Confusion. A scream. Terror and anger as red as the blade he held over Blake, dripping crimson of her blood.
Oh.
She remembered everything.
…
She was going to die, wasn't she?
She didn't expect the first thing on her mind to be the desire to apologize. She felt her legs going numb first, and didn't need to look to know that they were slowly being claimed by the darkness.
Sorry Dad, for being yet another woman who's leaving your life.
She could no longer feel her own breaths.
Sorry Ruby, for all the pain I'm about to cause you.
The golden stream of light had disappeared. Thankfully, so did the pain.
And sorry Blake, for not being able to save you.
She reached out with her left hand, desperately reaching but finding nothing, watching as her fingertips began to fade.
She didn't even realize her own face was damp with tears.
Ah, damn it.
She wanted to live.
…
…
…
Then don't go.
As her sight faded to black, she felt a grasp on her wrist.
Her last peculiar thought as she was being lifted up was that she was touching god.
A/N: Atropa belladona (nightshade) is a poisonous plant which causes deadly muscarinic blockade (hot as a hare, blind as a bat, etc. etc.). Interestingly, it is part of the tomato family. Whoever was brave or stupid enough to first eat a tomato must've had balls of steel.
Last week I was reading this nice whiterose fic and was like 'Wow, you know, maybe I was wrong. Maybe whiterose is the pairing that has the most potential for angst" and then RT was like NOPE lol you can't touch bumblebee levels of emotional trauma you fookin' idiot.
I REPENT FOR MY SINS. I NEVER ASKED FOR THIS ;A; Couldn't even focus on my studies for a whole day.
I don't think I've ever faced a season finale with such equal parts anticipation and dread before.
Gonna write at least one more chapter (IT'LL BE HAPPIER). Have to do some serious studying now so I can be successful and earn money$ to support my fandom habits. Cheers!