She hated this. She hated the moment itself and she hated the way I brought up the facts. She always does. She used to hate me as me and as my whole being in this world; but not anymore. Not since I gave her the chance to be free, she called it a short “break”, in a planet called Earth where soul mates don't exist anymore. It wasn't a decision of mine actually. It was decided between G and herself. I think I'm getting old, 'cause it is the only explanation to the acquiescence in my responses in these days. She would never realize the sacrifice that I made to give her her freedom.
While I pity myself, pity the vicious sanctity from darkness, the great commander Tenebrea; she didn't talk. She didn't reply. She just stood still. To be more specific, she stood still with tears on her cheeks because she realized that her actions hurt me more than Foedus hurt that mere human and now she just didn't have the face to say something. Some new excuses. Don't humans always find excuses to clean the mess they made?
She takes her blooded hands to her forehead not caring the blood smearing on her pure white skin. More importantly not knowing that the unnecessary man's dirty blood smearing on her forehead where I kiss her the last time will make me angrier.
“Look, Tenebrea, can't we-” she stops as the human growls writhing in pain. She turns her eyes away. Her eyes are wet again.
I take a few steps while she tries to wipe the tears in her eyes failing to prevent me from noticing them; but instead she smears more blood, this time on her eyes.
“You look miserable, Gaia.”
“He is miserable. You have to help him-” she mumbles in the dark silence, “quickly.”
“D will be here when you wake up. Go to sleep,” taking her chin up I look at her, she really needs to get rest.
She looks at me, waiting for the answer she wants to hear.
“With no worries.”
I'm watching her passing through the fence, she hadn't turn to look back once. She trusts me. She believes in me. Again. I raise my hand towards her. The man on the floor coughing blood, he is about to die. It is just like the last time. A couple of forget-me-not's, both as flowers in the small garden behind the fences and wishes from me. I call out her name, and “Obliviate.”
I'm tired. Just like the other time.
