Summary: A horse and skylark. Two worlds, two fates. Both, equally tragic. Cav1st/Ala, character death.
Disclaimer: KHR isn't mine.
Thanks for reading.
At the beginning, Alaude hated him.
To be fair, he still hated him. But, it was different back then. They had just met- Alaude, at the age of 26, him, older. At that moment, Alaude hated him. He despised him, with his sickening smile and dark hair. He was too happy, too… too much like those other herbivores. His attitude was horrible, and all in all, distasteful.
Yes, Alaude hated Cavallone Primo right from the start.
That feeling had never changed down the line. Alaude had always hated him. It was an unexplained, inconvenient hate. Giotto knew he felt this way, but what could he do? It wasn't hard to figure out that his Cloud Guardian was a little too headstrong when he wanted to be.
Even when Alaude's personality got calmer and he began to think more, he still disliked Enzo.
That, would never change, it seemed.
…
He expected Daemon to kill him. That was quite obvious- the damn illusionist being a traitor. But, he didn't expect it to be in a battle, in the presence of Cavallone.
He felt ashamed; he felt embarrassed. He wanted to die at that point, that the one whom he hated so was the one to see him in his weakest point. Alaude really did want to die at that point, because he wouldn't forgive himself for dying like this, in front of the bronco. It didn't rain, but the clouds rolled in.
Had it been a normal day, perhaps Alaude's spirits would have been lifted higher. He always did feel better when either the sun was clear to shine its rays, or the sky was overcast in clouds. But, he felt nothing but regret, shame, sadness as he stared up into the clouds, into the sky.
He felt the cold ground below him, heard the rushing of Enzo. The horse's face was clear in his vision, and he was… glad. Glad, that there was someone to comfort him right now, even though it was his least favorite person.
Alaude coughed into his hand, blood coating it. There were wounds, bleeding, in his chest and stomach, but he felt no pain. His sight was fading, fast. As he stared into the eyes of Enzo Cavallone, a sudden realization came upon him.
He was suddenly, so attractive. His voice was soothing to the skylark's ears, even if it was choked with tears.
Had he made the fatal mistake of misjudging the horse? Had he damned himself that much?
Was it raining? He couldn't tell. It was all faded, all blurry.
He stared at Enzo, his eyes not exactly focusing on anything. He didn't see how glossy or blurry the other's eyes were, didn't see the other biting his lip. He saw the other's unmarred skin, ruffled hair, and realized: 'oh god. I've been wrong all this time.'
The blond weakly raised a slender hand, still slick with blood from his wounds. He rested it lightly on the other's cheek, eyes growing heavy.
"Pardonnez-moi," he spoke, his voice an almost unheard whisper.
It was raining, he decided. Asari had come to get him, it seemed. But, it was only concentrated on his face. He felt nothing else, his senses blurring and fading.
He gave a faint smile as the sun slipped from behind the clouds, shining one ray of light on the pair.
Yes, he had resolved it.
…
His hand dropped to the ground.