Chapter Text
Pierre inhaled the evening breeze, staring out in the black void filled with stars. The cool breeze of the winter night danced with the snow and blew his face. He embraced the harsh bite of coldness seeping through his skin and he didn't bother to seek warmth, he's too preoccupied with a more pressing situation that wailed in his head like a siren.
Too noisy. Too distracting, and he simply wanted it out.
He closed his eyes as he let out a deep sigh. ‘They need to know.’
The image of a familiar silhouette lying unmoving on the grim dessert, lifeless. Specks of dust taken by the wind blurred their vision and broken shards of red candles lied scattered in sand.
He wasn’t responding, nor breathing, as if he was…dead.
‘What?’ Pierre couldn’t believe. No, he couldn’t really believe what he’s seeing. It’s- ‘It doesn’t make sense.’
He craned his neck, meeting eyes with obsidian black ones. He cradled Marshall’s head on his lap, his jaw hung open and he couldn’t find the strength to look away from the person standing a few feet away.
‘What are they?’ They didn’t look like them. No, he was sure she was something else… ‘What happened?’
He looked down at the body on his lap. No warmth, no heartbeat, no—nothing. The same face he had seen thousands of times, bursting with energy and wild personality, his eyes that always glimmered in rowdy competitiveness stared back at him…soullessly. His face pale and paper white, the wraps on his body messily disarranged, as if he struggled before his light was taken away. Black liquid pooled under him and seeped through the sand grains. The mark of where he… A bile rose to his throat and it sent him goosebumps all over his body.
Perturbed, the look of horror befell his features as he stared back again to the person in the distance, looking at them as he felt like all energy drained from his soul. Her eyes devoid of any emotion. Complete black voids. Empty and disturbing.
For the first time, his blood ran cold.
Pierre shot his eyes wide open, gasping from another fragment of memory his consciousness relived. No, he doesn’t want another one. He ran his fingers through his hair, stress driving his sanity into the brink of a cliff, frustratedly messing his hair with a click of his tongue.