black ocean, cold and dark, any

[kensley]

i took the poison praying you'd feel it, too i wrapped my neck and prayed that you'd feel the noose In the end, she had smiled. But he’d already closed his eyes. In the end, he’d done what he had to do. How desperately he had tried to save her. They say that death is not romantic, that all that blood is never beautiful, it is just red. And why should he be rewarded for his failures? He had brought death upon her, hadn’t he? The darkness had followed him for miles and he had kissed her head and smiled. They had stood in a kind of half-silence with their faces to the wind and the darkness had descended upon them in the next instant. She had not even screamed. As if she’d been expecting it. A tiger. A vicious, vengeful thing that had sunk its teeth into her throat. How desperately he had tried to save her. His sister. And when it was over, they were all soaked through with blood. It dripped from their teeth. She had smiled despite the violence, the gasping, shrieking chaos. Because her brother had returned to her and kissed her head and fought against what was killing her until his knees buckled. She lay there in the sand – great swathes of desert – and he’d channeled all of his fury on the tiger, consumed by his grief and his hurt and all the blood in his mouth and the tiger had splintered and then shattered. And Kensley was new. And he did not know what to do but to return to Beqanna. But Beqanna was new, too. He wanders now and thinks of his sisters. He wonders where Kennice is, thinks that he’d feel her if she were still here. He does not wonder about his mother or his father or the fact that he had loved someone once. He blinks into the golden light as if he’s surprised to find the sun still shines here at all. He drags in a shuddering breath and wonders if, when it gets tired, the heart will simply stop. shattered son of jarris and plumeria