diamond veins | lux’s last
Jul 15, 2022 14:37:35 GMT -5
Post by alex 🐺 on Jul 15, 2022 14:37:35 GMT -5
When she was ten, Lux had taken her father’s handgun, hands on the well-worn grip, and put it in her mouth - just to see how she would feel.
Her fingers wrapped around the trigger the way they had wrapped around Love’s fingers, comfort in the security. Sure in the strength she was caressing.
She found she liked the taste of the gunmetal. She felt nothing with the barrel between her teeth, her lips kissing the gun.
Father had caught her in the act and had only said, “well, get on with it then,” before she removed the gun, handing it back to him wordlessly.
“Thought so.” He pulls the magazine out - empty. It had always been empty.
Lux wasn’t an idiot. “Foolish girl. It’s not a game.”
Of course it was a game.
Carly Volkov finally strikes true and Lux smiles through the pain as her chest is ripped in two, an arc of blood flying through the air like war paint. She lives for it, the carnage.
And she’s gotta hand it to the girl - persistence pays off and Lux can feel her arteries crying out, her muscles seizing, her heart rate spiking.
She spits again, saliva mixed with blood and it almost tastes like gunmetal.
Lux Bellisario dies with a smile on her face.
A girl of hard lines and cracked edges, she breaks brittle against the onslaught, waves battering against her shore. Flecks of diamond peel from her skin like scales, sandpaper against stone. A diamond unmade.
Lux’s hand slips on her weapon, cascades of blood like the river before them as the final blow is delivered, a sword through the chest, an entry wound or an exit wound or maybe both.
She refuses to die quickly as the breaths grow more difficult, as she stumbles at the river’s edge, knees deep in the water, as she looks toward Freyr, Charlie, and finally Willem. She hopes the dead will make room for her.
She wants to apologize for failing them at the last. For giving up so easily. For her stupid fragile body that was never made of diamonds - simply skin and bone and a heart made of glass.
All around her, there’s sunlight and there’s sunlight and there’s sunlight and it refracts off of her, spirals of iridescence.
She thrusts her journal towards him, fumbling with her fingers, grace leaking from her body with each heartbeat. Her blood coats the pages, but there’s something poetic in all of the bloodshed, in her blood finally painting the pages red.
She’d added to their sketches the night before when sleep had escaped her - drawing the four of them alongside the river.
Freyr was the sentinel, the wolf, the protector. Charlie was the executioner, the silent partner, the steadfast soldier. And Willem was the sun that they orbited around, his gentleness hiding complexities that Lux had only begun to unravel. She wordlessly tells them to protect each other. They didn’t need to know she cared.
“T-take it and run,” she breathes through the ichor, shedding her satchel. Her lips quiver and shake and Lux closes her eyes, nearly growling at her own weakness, at her mortality. “Go! Just go!”
Her foot slips on a rock and Lux falls, clutching her chest, fingers in the wound to staunch some of the bleeding, hands skating over rocks worn by water, but it was futile and the darkness - the darkness was just on the other side.
The clear water runs pink and red. Foam sits at the corners of her mouth, a bloody smile like lipstick and sin and wrath.
Lux Bellisario dies with a smile on her face, the cameras around them glittering like diamonds in the sunlight.