( Already Had A Feeling Who Was Gonna Die ) - Tumblr Posts

chop chop sunday stan your new home is waiting for you

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: he'd wanted to at least see her one last time before his ascension, but it seems that even that is too much to ask of the harmony. ❀ ˎˊ- sunday character study ❀ ˎˊ- wc: 641 ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: set in 2.0-2.1, MAJOR ANGST WARNING, gorey language used like once but it's metaphorical ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: this is all vee and bells fault btw also this tweet that changed my brain chemistry now everyone has to suffer with me. if this had a title it would be "she used to be mine" but its too short so it won't :) ❀ ˎˊ- taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace , @flurrina , @tragedy-of-commons , @cakechase , @kiiyoooo ❀ ˎˊ- img credits

She’s gone.

And with her, goes every thought in his mind.

Ringing fills his ears. He can barely hear the voices of his attendant.

His lips move. What he says, he’s already forgotten.

His vision blurs. His eyes sting.

He sits. He stays. He stares.

She’s gone.

Robin’s gone.

The sweetheart of the cosmos, the idol beloved by all, the beacon of light in a night-filled sky-

His little sister is dead, and he wasn’t even there to stop it.

Muttered voices fade into a disorientated buzz that he can’t be bothered to decipher. Clicking of shoes, rustling of papers, all of it- it’s too much, it’s loud and it’s grating and-

Inhale.

Exhale.

Smile.

His cheeks hurt.

His nails bite into his palms. He wants to dig them into his face and tear off the skin and every horrid pretense he’s had to put up for the sake of this damned Family and that damningly weak Aeon who couldn’t even protect their most loyal acolyte.

And now, his sister is dead. Killed in her own home, in the domain of her god.

He’ll never see her again.

He’ll never see her smile, with the brightest lights and flames in her eyes as she sings on the grandest of stages.

He’ll never hear her laugh, with the voice blessed by the Harmony and the voice that had allowed him to continue fighting, even when he wanted to give up.

He’ll never hold her again, the sister who he had vowed to protect and had failed, not once, but twice now, and this time, his mistake, his carelessness was permanent.

Now, she is gone.

He asks his attendant to leave, as gently and as kindly as he can allow. He wants to scream. He wants to shout, he wants to cry, he wants to strangle and rip into whatever bastard dared to kill the only person he had ever loved, the only thing he had ever thought to be precious.

Was this some sort of punishment? For daring to question Xipe, or better yet, to question Ena? Was their devotion not strong enough? Was their actions not kind enough? Were they not enough?

Or were they simply just… insignificant, despite it all?

Then what was the point?

Despondently, his gaze raises from the cold wood of his desk.

Does Xipe even know?

Do they even care?

Something catches light in the corner of his eyes. There, in one of the many bookshelves in his office, a paperback spine stands apart from the rest. He knows it, bitterness and bile rising in his throat, he knows it better than anything.

He stands, and takes it from the shelf. He doesn’t open it.

The cover smiles up at him, the golden text taunting and mocking.

He grits his teeth.

A weak Path. A weak Aeon.

A weak brother.

He tears into the Odes of Harmony, ripping pages upon pages upon pages of lies, false vows, and cruel, cruel delusions. Inked words that had been ingrained into him since childhood are crushed under the sole of his shoe. The smiling face of a deceitful, lying Aeon is ripped into two.

His teeth tug at his lip. His chest constricts with the effort to keep his sobs down, to keep his eyes dry and to keep his grief and sorrow secret from the halls of Dewlight Pavilion. Every intake of air is a struggle in of itself, and it takes every bit of his strength not to break down and wail to the heavens to give his sister back.

It isn’t long before the Odes are reduced to nothing, and Sunday is left there, alone in his office with scattered pieces of paper littering his floor.

Xipe smiles up at him in two ripped halves of a page.

He hates how he sees Robin in Them.

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