Spirit Animals Oneshots

Suicide Season

TW: Suicide depictions, Blood, Major Character's Death, Grief

< Abeke >

I'm molded in place, constantly reliving it. Glancing in the mirror to see his shadow dancing across the room, only for it to fall in silence, and watch him do likewise. I shout out every time, my voice hoarse, begging for him to stop and knowing what's to come. Yet he still dances. 

For Conor no longer hears me, he is a hallucination that taunts my sense of self, reminds me of what I have lost.

I'm not me. Without him, I have nothing but the barren walls that echo his name. 

Every time I glance in the mirror, all I see is his silhouette. A rare blue-green haunts me, the delicate golden locks falling across his eyes while his soul beams out at me. He is sunlight, he is eternity. And with him missing, there is no gold and there is no shine. 

He never said it- what was tearing him apart inside. I should've known, I should've seen him fading away. What friend am I that I don't see beyond the mask he places on his face?

All I can do now is lay here, wishing my soul away and replaying his death in my mind. 

He promised he would be okay, come to me, and yet that night blood stained Conor's carpet. A rustic red painted on the edge of a knife I had to pull from his chest, and put to rest next to him. The beautifully jeweled prize he earned after taking down one of the deadliest enemies we had ever faced.

Conor was so full of life, then. A light in the darkened night. But when the shadows came, when the weight of his actions pulled him into the swarming black sea, it diminished. His flicker was not enough to keep him from drowning in the endless darkness.

I don't believe I will ever know home again. Because Conor was pure love. 

If he had seen that- if he had known what he meant to me- maybe fate wouldn't have intervened. He could have a future, a life. And I hate that he can't. 

The horrors he's seen and the death that knocked at his door weren't meant to be the last he ever experienced. Conor was meant to die with family surrounding him, wishing away their tears and holding them close. Conor was meant to feel loved and happy when he finally bid his time goodbye. Life wouldn't have ever been easy on him, but enough care might've kept him here. Mortality wasn't supposed to be his limit.

I'm angry at Death, for taking him. At everyone else, who turned away when he needed them. At myself... For letting him die. But you know who I'm angry at the most? Conor. For not giving me enough time to express how much I loved him.

From the moment I truly saw him for who he was, I desperately needed a forever with Conor. I had envisioned a future for us, my mind focused on continuity, of creating a new joy.

But he didn't see that. The weight of his current state of mind was unbearable, the passage of time preventing recovery. I give no fault to him for succumbing to pain, I fault him for preventing himself a life away from it. And because I'm selfish, and because I can't seem to forget my pain, I resent that he ruined our future.

His blood may not be on my hands, but the memory of it burns my flesh. The expression once encased in death now resides in the mirror, sullen eyes endlessly staring back at me. I bow my head. I have not even a memory outside of this shadow. It's all I see when I stumble through the corridors, knees weak and eyes heavy.

After Conor died, so did Briggan. Overtaken by sorrow and stricken with sickness, he stopped eating. Stopped sleeping. It slowly killed him. That was the first time I had ever seen a Great Beast die from a broken heart. 

If they cared. If only they cared, for once. But the Four of us, the 4 Fallen, we were always alone.

Meilin refuses to admit it, that a part of her broke when Conor died. She shows composure, a sort of sturdiness true to her soul. But the eyes show a little too much, a dread hidden behind a foundation of stone. Meilin's brother is gone, and that weighs heavy on her mind.

Rollan never showed up to his funeral, but not for a lack of care. When Tarik died, he was caught in a trance. Everything around him demanded attention, and he was far too distant to notice. This time, Conor wasn't here to pull Rollan from it- and it scares me to know he's starting to take after Briggan.

I lost Conor, and now they're slipping away too. And I have no one to turn to, no one to rely on. I'm back to being alone, to proving my strength in solitude. To fighting for everyone when they can't fight for themselves. But isn't that true to the Greencloak name? 

There is not much I can say, but the little there is- all I can truly express. 

I feel a weight on my chest, an unbearable and strenuous weight. Because Death is in the air. It's all around, and I helplessly watch as it takes everything from me. 

For this is suicide season. 

What's the inspiration you say? Oh nothing much. Just this sad fucking song. 

I don't know who made these character aesthetics on Pinterest, but they're amazing❤️

Credit belongs to any creator for all the memes/panels related to Spirit Animals I put in. Have a lovely day people. Adios