Black, it begins to swell inwardly as he awaits for the Archangel any moment now. Ivory hues pull upward the moment a shadow appears within the blur of light. Irruption gurgles, blood stains against tastebuds and he feels tips of fingers press against the man’s forehead. ❝ no. ❞ Head falls back, he’s trying to pull away but the large stone barrier blocks his movement. Hues lid, sharp inhale has wincing pain courses through his body.
It’s his time, he wants to die and be taken away from a world so corrupt. He only hopes that with his fall, sanctuary will arise beneath the fallen righteous’ ashes. Why did he call upon the angel; it’s simple. Death is hard to stomach but slipping under the chilled fingertips alone; that’s unbearable. ❝ I I, don’t s-save me. But I-I have something ❞ He swallows back iron; ivory hues lift. ❝ I need t’ask o-of you. ❞