You know, it’s a song and dance when you get down to it.
Something you can nearly taste, something that you know. Maybe part of it can be relished, the fact of weapons being used, because isn’t that just what you are, weapons in a war waged for a purpose you can’t even say, and really, like you even care.
There’s a difference here, it’s touched on in the quickening of your blood, the harshness of your breath (--but you will never say, no, you will never--)
It’s right there, right in that moment that blades lock and gold eyes meet gold, and there’s anger, righteous and fierce, there’s pain, betrayal, and all the rest, and right there--
Right there, for a moment, this is what you want. You want this.
(To fight him like this, to prove yourself, to show yourself to be the one who shined brightest.)
You wanted it. And then, there’s nothing. He’s gone and there’s a body in blood at your feet and all that you know is that he didn’t care as he walked away.
You wanted this.
And then there are only flames. Ash and dust, and air too dry to allow any tears.