Blood, Love, and Gore

War

Characters:
Alexander Kirkland (Lillian's step dad)
Lillian Bonnefoy (daughter of Frederic Bonnefoy)
Fredric Bonnefoy (mentioned twice, father to Lillian)
Allen Kirkland (mentioned once, Lillian's stepbrother and son to Alexander and Frederic)

Crimson rivulets ran down the skin and jaws of the British man. Soil dug into his palms, reminding him of his guns that ran out of bullets; the skies overhead screamed with the deaths of a million souls.

Alexander's eyes were locked with Lillian’s, even more intent in combat than when they fought. Perhaps they saw hatred while glaring at each other. Perhaps, a maelstrom of emotions swirled past the cold blue orbs, matched in equal degree to the emerald eyes that glared from the British man's ashen face.

“Are you really going to kill me?”

This was the first words he spoke to Lillian since the dawn of that day. He’d been so fucking confident in his own fighting prowess that he’d come, half cocky, half unprepared, with only a usual array of weapons . His adoptive daughter, despite however much of a wimp she seemed on a day-to-day basis, didn’t give any leeway during fights.

Now, he was on his knees, begging- please, spare me.

Lillian's uniform was tattered. Blood-stained, torn in multiple places, showing multiple cuts that were still open and untreated. Was there a bullet hole, perhaps, as well? It was difficult to tell. Alexander was in a far worse state; a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his lips, an eye was blackened, and he had a distinctive bullet embedded in his leg. All around him, the dead bodies of French and British soldiers alike lay prone on the ground.

Where was Frederic? It didn’t matter; what mattered was the war, and the fact that Lillian held him at gunpoint.

“I know I’ve wronged you…”

A soft murmur. Blood, coughed up onto the frozen, drenched ground.

“But…”

Worn out from time and battle the dark emerald orbs searched cold, resolute eyes of mocha brown in front of him.

“... are you going to kill me… in cold blood?”

Lillian stares at her adoptive parent in disgust. Oh how tempting it was to pull the trigger. How easy it will be to end it all here.
But yet.
Lillian couldn't. Seeing the man, him, in such a pathetic state. Would that make Lillian anymore of a person than this coward?
Still, Lillian can't quite bring herself to put the gun down either.

"Then give me a reason. Tell me why I shouldn't leave you to rot with your men." She growls, her blue eyes flashing with danger.

"These are both our men that's rotting."

A murmured breath. Ragged coughing, more blood spat out on the ground. Alexander, for the first time in nearly a thousand years, feared for his life. Death at the hands of his adoptive child, it was almost ironic. almost. It was strangely... fitting. After all he had torn her family apart.

But maybe... maybe Lillian was enough of a softie to spare him. Maybe he could run to Scotland, away from all the bullshit.

"You wouldn't kill me, would you?" he asked. He reached a hand towards Lillian, pleadingly. Let me live. "...And if you do shoot me, make it damn quick."

Lillian slaps the bloodied hand away in annoyance.

"You are not anything like me. Your only a substitute for my real parent, and that's all you'll ever be!"

Still, pity crept up Lillian's heart. She knew of this state too well. It wasn't long ago that she had submitted her body and mind to
Lillian nods her head to the other's gun.