1Summary: To Solomon– it was almost the same as rape. (They have taken his mind, they have taken his trust, they have eaten his soul-, and it's still not until the end that Solomon discovers Carl lived even less than they did.)
Disclaimer: I do not own Blood+.
Pairings: Solomon/Carl
- - - -
If he concentrates hard enough, the feel of the ashy remains in his hands aren't what they are, and Saya is not there, and Haji's anywhere he wants to be but certainly not here, and Carl's hair is tucked back up and clipped to his head and the wind that's now blowing is blowing his bangs from his face, not his body.
Solomon remembers a time when they could've been swept away by the wind anyway– their bodies, their weak and fragile bodies, but somehow when they turned solid and clamped their feet onto the ground they began to be eaten away, mouthful by mouthful, by the hungry, rumbling belly of Diva.
After all, Solomon is only in the middle of two people nearly equivalent to gods, maybe more than gods– 'monsters'– and there was never any hope that any of the rest of them could survive-, there wasn't even the hope that more than one out of Diva and Saya could live.
There was only dreams.
- - - -
He can distinctly remember the rough linen of Carl's high collar, which nipped at the edges of the rounded chin, pale against red against blue, and his wide eyes pierced straight through the startling qualities of the cloth and distracted one's eyes to his face.
(When you looked, it was empty, but when he looked back at you, there was a flicker of light.)
- - - -
The moment that Solomon watches Diva press her mouth to Carl's neck, gluttonous and longing and immaturely unable to even bother with controlling her wants as she always is, Solomon would desperately like to flinch. Carl's voice quivers and his hands tremble and his bottom lip shakes like a child that's holding back tears, and what's written in his eyes (which pierce you through and through, but not with the same purer, less sinister glances that they used to give and that is something you can admit to yourself that you miss) screams 'betrayal, trust, betrayal, how could you?'.
Solomon cannot look anymore, then. He cannot.
- - - -
And it's strange, really, that with the crumbles and clumps of ashes and broken pieces that will never again be picked up (all the king's horses and all the king's men tried to put himyou back together again but they failed in the end, oh yes they did, they failed horribly at it), he cannot look here, either.
So Solomon sits for a moment before standing, fingering the piece of Carl that is not Carl but the monster of him (and they all have monsters, but Carl's acceptance of it, it made you forget that it came so easily not because he was a good person like that but because he was an insane one), and he does not bother with the motions of throwing it away.
When he puts it in his pocket, it still feels heavy on his chest even though he's not holding it.
