If we should die tonight, then we should all die together
Watch the flames burn over the mountainside; desolation comes upon the sky
I see fire, blood and debris, and I hope that you remember me
And if my people fall, then surely I'll do the same
I see fire, blood and debris
And I hope that you remember me
It was fitting that he should be the first to find her. But the minute he saw her, he knew something was wrong. He began to run with feet like lead.
He collapsed at her side, because his legs would not stand anymore. He wondered, prayed even, that there was something wrong with his eyes, with his glasses, that what his mind was barely even registering wasn't real. But there was no sign, no dreamlike shimmer to tell him that what he was saying was as surreal as it seemed. The red blurred with the ground within his line of vision as he reached out a hand for her, wishing for the feeling of a pulse fluttering through the skin at her neck.
His fingers brushed her hair out of her face to gaze fearfully at the dullness in her empty eyes, the tears clinging to her red-tinted lashes - had she died in pain? He knew now that she had to be dead, even though his brain denied it. Her head rolled on the blood-soaked ground and her hair tangled with the matted red. He hated seeing her like that, discarded on the floor, looking crumpled and useless - he gently lifted her head from the dirt and held it against his shoulder, careful not to cut himself on the tips of her horns.
"You didn't know it," he said, speaking a little too loudly, because there was no one around to care, and he had frankly stopped caring himself, "...but I promised myself I would protect you. I'm sorry. I failed. I was so caught up in trying to get you to like me that I forgot that I had an obligation to you regardless..." he wrapped his arms around her limp shoulders and rested his forehead against her sleeve. It was cold, like ice, straight down to her bones; not an ounce of her usual warmth remained - not in her eyes, not in her lungs, and not in the frozen, nonexistent pulse in her heavy heart. Yellow tracks of tears stained the corners of his eyes and the edges of his glasses, but he was too preoccupied to dash them away.
"I never told you how much I loved you," he muttered, coiling his fingers into her hair, which was coarse and stiff with matted blood. He didn't notice. "But I'm not leaving you now. Not again. I just wish I knew what to do..."
He trailed off, uneasy. The word revenge pulsed in his ears like a heartbeat, consuming every thought, but he could barely move at this point - how was he expected to avenge her? Strands of her hair wrapped around his fingers, and he rested his forehead against her own, breathing slowly to catch the last remaining traces of her scent. He could have given her all the love or all the anger in the world, but it wouldn't have been enough to save her, to undo what had already been done.
The sky darkened; the stars slowly emerged, then retreated to hide behind the thin purple clouds high above. Everyone was inside their hives except for two. Like ancient statues, neither moved.
Sollux's eyes narrowed slowly as he fought sleep, holding Aradia's cold body and watching Alternia's moon drift through the thin clouds. He watched the yellow tracts of tears, the red mess of blood creeping over the ground in rivulets, and the orange-brown of the soil under his knees, thinking how it looked like a fire spreading out around them, taking all of the warmth inside of him with it.
