𝕳𝖊'𝖘 𝕷𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝕬 𝕳𝖞𝖆𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖍

{ Revelation 21:4 }

Chapter 31's song by Roslyn by St. Vincent and Bon Iver

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{ "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more. There will be no mourning, crying, or pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." }
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Pitter

Patter

"Vincent!!! Please help me..." The despondent protagonist shrieks out, and her arms are enveloping around another body. A cold one. The fingertips and lips fade into a pale dehydrated complexion. Y/n utilizes her free hand to extend over to touch the hand of the person. Realizing the icy temperatures in comparison to hers, the color distribution of the original skin is slightly wan.

She tightly wraps her warm palms inside the icy ones attempting to generate any energy to maintain her lack of heat. "Vincent!" Y/n yells once again, the helpless shouts of assistance echo within the walls of her mother's dead room. However, she perceives tiny scurrying footsteps approaching the gaping void of the crime scene inside.

Pitter

Patter

The 17-year-old girl persists in holding her mother's hand as her other arm is encircled around her body and her hand is settled upon her pale cheek. "Mommy..." She whisper. The elocution is ripped away from her jovial and languid to this fragile, dejected, and delicate sound. Her chin is resting on the top of her mother's head, and the gentle liquids slip down past her cheeks to the h/c-haired lady.

The people finally fill the environment with the sounds of items collapsing onto the ground and rushing footsteps abandoning her once more into the hallways again. Eventually, the heavy steps of shoes are distinguished from the throngs of light steps. Noticing the steadiness and formality in their every move. The atmosphere in the space becomes insufferable, and gloomy with the accompaniment of the shoes. "Y/n." That distinctive Scottish accent is laced with the candied, pitiful tone to the discovery.

"Anteros. Why is she so frigid?" She monotonously inquires, her thumb caressing the saggy skin of her chilly mother's backhand. Y/n pivots her head to the side, allowing her to position her cheek on the top of her mother's hair. Her eyes are contemplating the being on the side of her who simply crouched down next to her.

Pitter

Patter

"We are all gathered today to mourn a fallen soldier who touched everyone's hearts deeply with such devotion and charity. She was everything to many. A friend. A neighbor. A client. A daughter. A mother. She met countless people during her time here. As we all know, death isn't finalized, it merely means her earthly form is no longer required and she is now in the arms of the lord. Accepted by countless of god's fallen devotees." The priest of their church gives the speech at Y/n's mother's funeral.

The same Father Matthew who suggested the advice to be benign to Vincent is telling the eulogy. She simply dreads announcing to the people her realization of the final cessation of her biological parents.

Her eyes are observing the open casket, her gorgeous mother is out on display as if she's an art piece in a museum. The inadequate cover-up on the ligature mark encircled her throat, It was not easily made suicide, however, somebody else was in the room for the duration of her final breath. They were the cause of her mother's demise. The purple and red markings start to tease the woman's boiling blood while she notices the large width of it.

Pitter

Patter

The coroner enters the room of the mother's death. They observe the lady cradling the older woman as her body shifts slightly forward and backward in a soothing motion. Next to the distressed protagonist is the salt and pepper-haired demon, calmly gazing upon the broken expression of Y/n.