Rivers
She sits by the river, the grass cool in the night air. All is quiet, even the crickets have gone silent. Just the river flowing down, dark and bubbly like slime. She can feel him hovering near her shoulders, as he always did. But she makes no movement, as the river is much too alluring and lovely to peel her eyes away even for a second.
Besides, if she looks, he'll be gone again.
She doesn't remember much anymore, after the incident. She only remembers that it was yesterday, and that she did it. Even the moon has gone cold and black to her actions, refusing to shine for her. But the river is there, and it's ever so beautiful. Ever so deadly. She tightens her grip around herself, her nails digging deep into her arms. He's trying to speak to her, but she can't hear anything. The river won't let her, it's having a lovely conversation with her about the incident.
She shouldn't really be calling it lovely, should she?
She leans closer to the river, dipping her feet into it. It's warm, and thicker then she thought possible. He's trying to pull her out of the river, but he just phases right through her. She can't feel him, she's gone numb in every way. Her mind is thick with smoke and blood, and she's not going to change anytime soon.
She doesn't really want to.
She wades into the river, waist deep in it. It's inviting her, calling her in. She loves the river, for it's everything she needs, and contains everything she's done. He's calling to her, trying to get her to understand him. But the river roars, and sweeps here away to the end of it's path, to the small pond that it leads into. She floats on her back, a smile on her face. He weeps silently, but she doesn't notice.
Because he's not there.
The sun rises, and she looks around. She remembers now, she remembers what she's done. She looks around her, and wishes she had drowned in the river. Bodies, all floating in the pond, sliced and diced to bits. And she's swimming in their blood. He disappears, giving up on her. She drops into the blood, looking at her hands. They were also cut to shreds. And she stabs herself in the throat with her spring blade, and falls into the river face down beside her best friend, her lover and the dog they were all connected by. Her long time companion, the fox child, the wind witch, her brother, the prince of wolves, and the half-demon thief with his emotionless copy.
And as she dies, he remembers.
His spirit is one that not many remember, because he's been dead long ago. He has witnessed her snap, the final straw that broke her down.
And he thinks to himself as he ponders away...
Oh my daughter... My little slayer... What have you done?
And the river flows on.