Re: [quicklog: micah c, neil d, cris m, louis d]
[There really wasn't another option, was there?
The ground was hard beneath his (her) knees, dust dirtying skin that needed a wash up before all of this began. He didn't say anything, didn't try to protest or wriggle away. It was acceptance, in a way, an end to a run he couldn't keep on forever.
But there was something to say about dying. About the tears he could see on Cris' face, his head bowing forward with the fingers that pressed against the back of his skull. When all was said and done, he'd be finished. Over. Dead.
But them? They would remember him. At least most of them would, no matter how much they would want to put him to the side, to walk away and forget about them. Neil's hands would be covered in his blood, and Micah knew that wouldn't wash away as easily as one might think. He would be done with them, but they wouldn't forget him.
That thought made him smile, and he tilted his head up slightly, Neil's presence behind him, but his attention? Yeah, it was on Louis. The smile warmed slightly as he let out a breath, shoulders sinking down, and he pressed back towards Neil, towards the metal barrel that waited to kiss him goodnight.]
An empty coffin for Joey, then.
[They were his last words, issued moments before the gun fired. It didn't hurt, not in the slightest, just like the lights going out. The body stayed upright for several moments before he fell forward. Dark hair went darker with the blood that spilled - no poured - from the wound in the back of his head, and inky blue eyes were empty as they stared out into the dust and dirt that carpeted the late summer landscape.
The hotel, in a twist of cruelty, did not settle him back into his own shape when his heart stopped beating, when his blood stopped flowing. No, it was a vision of Sam that lay there, bleeding out into the earth.
Any efforts to move the body prove fruitless. The earth didn't want to let go of the latest casualty, and if anyone cared to return later, where blood was spilled grass had grown. The body would be gone back to where it had come, but a tiny little burst of green, the beginnings of a tree.]