The Moments Before Death
Jan. 1st, 2014 10:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feredarStory: The Moments Before Death
Year: 990 FY
Characters: Kellom
Warnings: Character death, references to genocide and rioting, anti-mage prejudice, Kellom
They say, in the moments before death, your life flashes before your eyes.
It doesn’t. Not really.
At least, not for me.
Time does seem to stretch, though. Or maybe it’s just the drowning that makes it feel that way. The Islander freak pulled on the groundwater and the earth collapsed under us. I think my ribs broke, badly. That’s probably it, yes. I don’t feel wet, but I do feel drowning. This must be what my nephew felt when he—
But I digress.
No, I’m not seeing pictures or flashes, of myself as a child, of the people I care about, of pivotal events in my life. I’m not seeing pictures of what might have been. I’m just…drowning.
The worst of it is, I have no idea what I’m leaving behind. I had the best possible example of how to look out for my family, and I didn’t do it. My sisters are hollow or damaged or both; my brothers are traitors and dead or probably dead; my wife…
My wife.
I was a good King. I still believe that, despite some of the unpleasant, unintended consequences of my choices. I was a good King. Of course I wasn’t perfect—maybe I moved too fast, maybe that’s why the riots started. But I did what I thought was best, and I never wavered.
What I failed at was my family. And if Andrell is still alive…I thought I knew him, but then he left, and then I got his letter, and I don’t know what he’ll do if he’s still alive.
A part of me hopes he isn’t, because I failed with him, like I did with Mellir, and Tana and Keta and even Sola and Deva, a little. And that makes me…it makes me…
I was a good King.
I was just a terrible brother.
I choke on the blood and still I see no pictures. I can’t even remember their faces, just darkness, and the weight of the Islander freak on top of me, not moving, not breathing; his head angles on my shoulder and I know he’s already dead, but there’s a sort of…a sick sort of comfort, in something like being held as I go.
As I drown.
Everything’s dark now.
I can’t breathe.
I miss them already.
I wonder if they’ll miss me.
Year: 990 FY
Characters: Kellom
Warnings: Character death, references to genocide and rioting, anti-mage prejudice, Kellom
They say, in the moments before death, your life flashes before your eyes.
It doesn’t. Not really.
At least, not for me.
Time does seem to stretch, though. Or maybe it’s just the drowning that makes it feel that way. The Islander freak pulled on the groundwater and the earth collapsed under us. I think my ribs broke, badly. That’s probably it, yes. I don’t feel wet, but I do feel drowning. This must be what my nephew felt when he—
But I digress.
No, I’m not seeing pictures or flashes, of myself as a child, of the people I care about, of pivotal events in my life. I’m not seeing pictures of what might have been. I’m just…drowning.
The worst of it is, I have no idea what I’m leaving behind. I had the best possible example of how to look out for my family, and I didn’t do it. My sisters are hollow or damaged or both; my brothers are traitors and dead or probably dead; my wife…
My wife.
I was a good King. I still believe that, despite some of the unpleasant, unintended consequences of my choices. I was a good King. Of course I wasn’t perfect—maybe I moved too fast, maybe that’s why the riots started. But I did what I thought was best, and I never wavered.
What I failed at was my family. And if Andrell is still alive…I thought I knew him, but then he left, and then I got his letter, and I don’t know what he’ll do if he’s still alive.
A part of me hopes he isn’t, because I failed with him, like I did with Mellir, and Tana and Keta and even Sola and Deva, a little. And that makes me…it makes me…
I was a good King.
I was just a terrible brother.
I choke on the blood and still I see no pictures. I can’t even remember their faces, just darkness, and the weight of the Islander freak on top of me, not moving, not breathing; his head angles on my shoulder and I know he’s already dead, but there’s a sort of…a sick sort of comfort, in something like being held as I go.
As I drown.
Everything’s dark now.
I can’t breathe.
I miss them already.
I wonder if they’ll miss me.