07 [dream]

[hyahahacool]

[Where was he again...? Everything was clouded, blurry, nothing seemed to be absolutely clear to him right now. Suddenly he took a step, feeling that familiar feeling of grass beneath his boot. Amakusa glanced down and realized he was... back in his world, back on Rokkenjima. He blinked, and everything came back to him.

That familiar feeling of a weight in his hand brought him back to reality- he was carrying his sniper rifle, and he knew what he had done. Amakusa doesn't need anyone else to destroy his own world, destroy everything he knew- he was always the one to do that. He was always the one to ruin everything and just run away and start new somewhere else.

It was the same here. The blood that surrounded him, the crimson liquid that stained the ground and the eerily quiet atmosphere was enough of an indication for him that he had massacred yet again. It was hard to remember, but he knew that he did it. There were bodies everywhere, almost a shocking amount- and in the midst of them was a certain redhead.

A redhead clutching a pistol in her own hand, and blood poured out from her forehead. A clean shot, a bullet that killed Ushiromiya Ange.]

shot 008 || [Dream]

[soulofaginger]

[It is a hot Italian summer afternoon, the sky a deep shades of red and orange as dusk approaches. G lay in bed, his bedroom humble and lacking anything unneeded for the very basics of survival. His entire 'house' consisted of only three rooms, and there were no glass windows, only battered wooden shutters. However, these meager living conditions were the only thing putting G at ease.

He closed his eyes for a moment, wincing and letting out a pained groan. His head throbbed with an agonizing migraine, his stomach lurched and cramped, his body felt stiff, exhausted, and numb, and beyond the pain his thoughts were just so very far away. He knew all to well what was going to happen. It was not easy to forget what his last hours were like.

He stared vacantly at the wall, waiting to once again drift off into the nap he wouldn't wake up from. His family was gone. Scattered. Being hunted down, and he could do nothing but lay in bed, powerless to stop it. The solitude of his home that was once such a blessing to him now felt like a prison. Why could his death not simply come sooner? It was inevitable...]