This, one way or other, will be the last words he ever speaks in this lifetime. If he dies, he will go on to become the Highblood, void of memory or cursed with it while having to live out the cruelty in spite of it.
He considers the last words of his elder, a sermon to the dying on the end of times. He considers that, regardless of whatever his past life might have signed at the end, the last spoken words would've been to Meulin, a careful whisper of good morning, maybe even pity you, before slipping off to sleep by her. Maybe an apology is fitting. Maybe this is right.
This won't be like his past life, the part he never tells no one about because he wants the motherfucker remembered better. This won't be where all he's too pan-addled to be anything more, where all his good is put to rot. They will take his tongue. They will take his will again. They may even take his soul once more, but like fuck was he letting them take his heart again. From now on, as long as he was alive to prevent it, no one would be cutting that out for him.
Not even himself.
He watches Steve put out his last stand, defending him even as he's already fallen. He gasps as Steve falls but he doesn't speak more. He sees Steve fade from conciousness and he uses his last bit of available movement to reach out and steady him, but when he turns up to the Peacekeepers there, he doesn't see an anymore. He sees himself, a subjugglator surrounded by his fellows. He sees himself asking if all their work in rebellion was worth the price they're about to pay.
The others are being taken captive, they're cuffing Steve and himself now, jerking them roughly upwards and taking them off to their fates. And yet, when he hears his own voice in his mind, questioning him on whether this was worth it all, for the first fucking time in his life he has full proper revelation of it. He thinks of his family, his friends, their future. He thinks of how badly he'd wanted a second chance, just one fucking chance for the line of himself, his other, his descendant, to do some goddamn good. He thinks of the lives he's finally managed to save, instead of end for once. Do you think it truly to be of motherfucking worth? He laughs one last time before he will never laugh like this again, indigo leaking from his eyes for acheiving something he'd never thought himself able, and he thinks, Yes. Yes it is.
They're taken away. Once outside, he sees Steve being dragged elsewhere, not going along with the other captives. There's just enough time for him to realise, heart clenching and face falling, that Steve's been written a different fate than that of the others and even himself. Just enough time before the gag is in his mouth and the blindfold is put over his eyes.
The next thing he sees is a bright white room and all he knows after is fear.
no subject
He considers the last words of his elder, a sermon to the dying on the end of times. He considers that, regardless of whatever his past life might have signed at the end, the last spoken words would've been to Meulin, a careful whisper of good morning, maybe even pity you, before slipping off to sleep by her. Maybe an apology is fitting. Maybe this is right.
This won't be like his past life, the part he never tells no one about because he wants the motherfucker remembered better. This won't be where all he's too pan-addled to be anything more, where all his good is put to rot. They will take his tongue. They will take his will again. They may even take his soul once more, but like fuck was he letting them take his heart again. From now on, as long as he was alive to prevent it, no one would be cutting that out for him.
Not even himself.
He watches Steve put out his last stand, defending him even as he's already fallen. He gasps as Steve falls but he doesn't speak more. He sees Steve fade from conciousness and he uses his last bit of available movement to reach out and steady him, but when he turns up to the Peacekeepers there, he doesn't see an anymore. He sees himself, a subjugglator surrounded by his fellows. He sees himself asking if all their work in rebellion was worth the price they're about to pay.
The others are being taken captive, they're cuffing Steve and himself now, jerking them roughly upwards and taking them off to their fates. And yet, when he hears his own voice in his mind, questioning him on whether this was worth it all, for the first fucking time in his life he has full proper revelation of it. He thinks of his family, his friends, their future. He thinks of how badly he'd wanted a second chance, just one fucking chance for the line of himself, his other, his descendant, to do some goddamn good. He thinks of the lives he's finally managed to save, instead of end for once. Do you think it truly to be of motherfucking worth? He laughs one last time before he will never laugh like this again, indigo leaking from his eyes for acheiving something he'd never thought himself able, and he thinks, Yes. Yes it is.
They're taken away. Once outside, he sees Steve being dragged elsewhere, not going along with the other captives. There's just enough time for him to realise, heart clenching and face falling, that Steve's been written a different fate than that of the others and even himself. Just enough time before the gag is in his mouth and the blindfold is put over his eyes.
The next thing he sees is a bright white room and all he knows after is fear.