![]() When she feels his arms hold her tight, the balcony creaking underneath their weight, her heart stops racing. "Sure… You don't even really need to ask, you dork." She catches the flush in his cheeks, something beautiful to see in the soft darkness, lit up by the moon and the stars. "This is a…bit silly, but can you hold me for a little bit?" A pause, but her shaking wouldn't stop. "I…I'm sorry, Lloyd." ( I'm so sorry, she remembered crying out. With shaking hands, she reaches for his own. "You're so pale now…"Įvery part of her is cold. She almost flinches, not wanting to get blood on him. "Colette? What's wrong?" His hand reaches to grasp her shoulder. The rustling wind through the trees, the scent of the lilies that Lloyd keeps in his room. Kratos standing over the grave of Lloyd's mother (his wife), Genis and Raine speaking with each other by the stream. "What…What just…" Colette starts, looking back and forth all around her. There’s no small scar on his right cheek from battle, no exertion in his eyes, no pain. (For he wouldn't get his battle swords from Dirk until he would leave tomorrow). Lloyd is next to her, his smile easy in the moonlight, his wooden swords strapped to his waist. "I promise I can prove useful to you on your journey!"Ĭolette blinks. His hands are placed on his balcony railing, brushing aside the clinging ivy. "So, can I come with you?" Lloyd was asking. Perhaps once her soul truly leaves, the woman from before would take her place once again-Ĭolette opens her eyes, greeted to a starry sky. Warmth leaves her throat, knowing it to be blood. ![]() To speak at all is pain, and to turn her head towards Lloyd, a blur of red in the distance, was agony. "Lloyd…I…I'm sorry…" She can’t be sure if she’s even speaking. And in her selfishness, she can only think of an odd gratefulness to that pain, to still feel something human where she had once thought to be lost forever.Īnd after her friends had done so much to save her, time and time again. The blade impales her chest, clean through, the pain devouring her from head to toe. She can hear Lloyd's voice in the distance. She feels so terrified, more than anything before. "You won't torture me with the possibility anymore."Ĭolette never moves, even as he raises the sword. "You were never useful as a vessel," he says. The blade shines from the light of the Great Seed above them, a weak and sickening green that holds nothing but a corpse. He appears in front of Colette so quickly, she can hardly react. And then his voice, so low, one can hardly hear it. Yggdrasill swipes it before Lloyd can retrieve it. That is, until one of his swords slips out of his grasp. Lloyd is the only to remain on his feet, the only one to quickly block his attacks. There are violent pushes of magic, stumbling her friends to the ground. Yggdrasill's face is more dark and twisted than before. It was only afterwards that she realized why. Even her wings spark in and out of existence, unsure what they should do. Her hand awkwardly clutches a ring of metal, feeling strange in her grip. But she feels like her own body can’t be trusted. She tries to fight alongside the others against Mithos, no, Yggdrasill. And her movements-Colette still wondered if the motions of her arms, her legs, were her own or that of the woman whom she had once known as a goddess. The agony of her soul that squeezed Colette's ribcage. The whisper of her voice as it traveled through Colette's throat. It was just after she housed Martel within her, the woman's spirit still leaving traces of herself inside her skull. Colette remembers the very first time she died.
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