Guardians
. o .
Corrine is gone.
Gone and dead; his bell hangs from her fingers as she wraps her arms around her knees and does not cry. Not where the firelight can betray her. Not near these almost-strangers whom she has tried to kill not so long ago.
The bell jangles as she feels soft arms wrap around her from behind. She is about to kill Zelos until she realizes the arms aren't his. Instead, blue, white, and gold softly envelops her.
As she accepts the other Chosen's embrace, Sheena smiles, humbled by Colette's dauntless trust.
Not all knights wear armour, Sheena thinks. Some don't need it.
. o .
then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph
And death i think is no parenthesis
. o .
Disclaimer: Colette, Corinne, Sheena, and Zelos are all the belongings of Namco. The snippet at the end of this drabble is from a poem by e. e. cummings (the rest of which is certainly worth a read.)
Sabe's Scribbles: Bricks? Bouquets? Thoughts? … and, Cheers.