Work Text:
i.
I think we could get along. Your eyes are a soothing amber that remind me of honey.
If my blue eyes are the ocean, yours are the sun. Do my eyes sparkle when the rays of your warm gaze hit my still waters?
These are my thoughts as we look over the rail of the ship.
As we walk about the hull, I take your hand in mine to tug you along. It's subconscious. You don't object, so I don't let go of it.
There's no one with us, no one to translate, but we aren't talking. We don't need to.
You squeeze my hand gently. I squeeze back.
You're smiling, like you always are when you're with me.
I wish I could smile as brightly as you do, but my heart throbs with this sensation I can't put a name to.
I want to get to know you. Your eyes tell me the same.
ii.
"Do you have to go?"
You're speaking English, knowing she won't understand, but it seems like she does.
She only smiles, then says something in her own language.
You understand. You shake your head with a sliver of guilt. "Don't be sorry."
She laughs because she understands.
You wrinkle your forehead slightly.
You really, really don't want her to go. The feeling tears at your heart, your bones, your soul if you have one, but you think it must be your selfishness speaking. (You say that over and over and over to yourself.)
She wants to go, so who are you to stop her? (Why won't this dread stop rising in your throat?)
"I'm a horrible person," you say, as you press a kiss to her lips, hungry, and it's the calmest you've felt this entire trip. It's the only way you know how to abate the dread, if only for a bit, so she can leave without your interference. Without seeing the misery in your heart.
She kisses back, touching your face gently with both her hands.
You wonder if she understood.
iii.
Bianka wishes she could stop time.
She wishes she could fly.
She wishes she could teleport, not even to the Caledonia that she's bolting to on her two legs, but away from this horrible place. From this world. She would go to Schicksal and save Eikenal who is so cold in her arms, using whatever ridiculously easy process to heal her, be it a transfusion or the Abyss Flower. Why does only the future have access to such technology? It's not fair.
It's not fair.
Why her? Just why did it have to be her? Why are the gods so cruel?
It's not fair.
iv.
Brown has never looked so ugly a colour to her.
It stares mockingly at her as her cheek is pressed against the faint, faint pulse of her love's neck. It makes such an ugly sensation bloom in her heart.
The pulse is getting fainter.
She holds the body of her near-dead love in her arms, brown upon brown planks taking up all her vision.
The pulse is getting fainter.
Her eyes shut tightly once nothingness hits her cheek.
v.
Despite the searing heat of the fire, Bianka feels unspeakably cold.
Her gaze flits downward.
The face she sees is so beautiful.
So still.
She imagines those eyelids fluttering open; those lips quirking up into a smile.
Her heart can't even burn with want.
vi.
I love you. I'm sorry.
My last thoughts will be of my grandmother and you.
You, who came from the world that exists outside of El Rey. You, who is so valiant and blindingly bright, like the sun, gracing my world with your light and warmth. I've fallen deeply in love.
It's selfish of me, isn't it?
I selfishly long to see your beautiful face for a last time, to run my fingers through your hair which is golden like the sun. I selfishly long to see your smile. It'll remain the most precious thing I hold in my heart.If only destiny weren't so cruel. Would I have been able to stay by your side until we
It's almost time. Please don't be sad.
It's my wish that you'll be able to smile regularly for the rest of your life.
I love you.
Bianka, I'll always love you.
A year after all the events had transpired in the bubble universe, Durandal was finally able to read, write and speak fluently in Spanish. She sits alone on her bed, tears rolling down her face.
Her hands are careful not to crinkle the letter in her hands.