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Summary
It happens one morning. An unassuming morning, like any other, in the middle of the week - everything would be dull, boring even, if it weren’t for the fact that he coughs until petals are coming out of his lungs.
Soft, crumpled things. Indigo petals, like his favorite color. The irony isn’t lost on him. He stares at them in his palm like they might mean something else. But he knows better, he’s read the stories. They say death comes quietly, but the stories it leaves behind scream - silken shards turning from ivory to blood-red before anyone thinks to worry.
Day 5 • Viago Week - Alternate Universe