...Injured with pain and sadness, the you that cannot be healed
Shoulder the burden of the past that cannot be erased; don't throw away your will to live...
[ X ][ O ]Blossom[ O ][ X ]
→Blossom's attack had missed. Abel had struck with his Wind Sword, but it had not managed to strike as well. Now Vika was open to attack again, and Ephraim was weaponless. All Blossom could think to do was to brace herself, trying to angle her burned shoulder away from where Vika could strike her. Vezra hit the dirt again, her left hand open, fingers curled loosely, uselessly. Her upper arm hurt too much to move it anymore.
Deborah, however, had better aim than Blossom or Abel did. Her spear swung true and dug deep into her back. Blossom heard no scream, but she could practically see it as she dove into the sand and suddenly shifted back to her normal form. The mask, however, was sent flying.
What. What. What. Blossom was not in the condition to keep up with this sort of development. Vika is attacking us? Oh, wait, it's not Vika, it's actually some strange red-haired woman that has the exact same bloody trails on her body--and now Vika doesn't have them. Was it actually Vika attacking? Or was it this woman? Who really knows? And when is my shoulder going to stop hurting, seriously, I can't even clench my hand anymore!
Blossom ignored her. Her eyes focused again on Vika, beaten and struggling to stay conscious. A beaten, bloody raven dragging herself down the hallway of Fefga's manor, in pain in more ways they could imagine; she has failed to save the one she cares for most, she has failed to defeat the one that came between them, and now she is suffering, hardly even seeing them as they attempt to help.
Blossom slowly approached Vika, gradually increasing in speed until she hit a dead run, collapsing to her knees before the unconscious raven. "...Vika...?" she whispered. She recalled an awkward conversation between the two in the summer, again wondering if she should have reached out more. This might not have happened if she had, and now... now she might be dead. "Vika, wake up..." Blossom leaned the raven's head against her knee and touched her fingertips against her cheek. Her other hand shook her shoulder lightly. "Wake up...! You can... ex-explain things, they can... help..."←
Deborah, however, had better aim than Blossom or Abel did. Her spear swung true and dug deep into her back. Blossom heard no scream, but she could practically see it as she dove into the sand and suddenly shifted back to her normal form. The mask, however, was sent flying.
What. What. What. Blossom was not in the condition to keep up with this sort of development. Vika is attacking us? Oh, wait, it's not Vika, it's actually some strange red-haired woman that has the exact same bloody trails on her body--and now Vika doesn't have them. Was it actually Vika attacking? Or was it this woman? Who really knows? And when is my shoulder going to stop hurting, seriously, I can't even clench my hand anymore!
Blossom ignored her. Her eyes focused again on Vika, beaten and struggling to stay conscious. A beaten, bloody raven dragging herself down the hallway of Fefga's manor, in pain in more ways they could imagine; she has failed to save the one she cares for most, she has failed to defeat the one that came between them, and now she is suffering, hardly even seeing them as they attempt to help.
Blossom slowly approached Vika, gradually increasing in speed until she hit a dead run, collapsing to her knees before the unconscious raven. "...Vika...?" she whispered. She recalled an awkward conversation between the two in the summer, again wondering if she should have reached out more. This might not have happened if she had, and now... now she might be dead. "Vika, wake up..." Blossom leaned the raven's head against her knee and touched her fingertips against her cheek. Her other hand shook her shoulder lightly. "Wake up...! You can... ex-explain things, they can... help..."←
You'd better forget everything. Remember. . . your different Life?XXXYou'd better forget everything. Remember. . . though, we cannot returnXXX
Like in times of warped memories, we can understand somedayXXX
