reflection of You || reflection of Me

[tambourine kid]

I know you can't hear me from wherever you are.
That's okay.
I wouldn't expect you to listen even if you were still around.

It was your choice what you did in the end. I'm proud of you for that.
I was proud of you in general, actually.
You were growing and improving - and you were being what you wanted to be.
That was what was important.

I should've done it myself. You would've been happier then.
I would've made it gentle. I would've made sure it didn't hurt.
Right between the spine and the brain, in the soft, fleshy, and vulnerable spot.
Just like where he said to stab, the day he tried to ask me to kill him.

Did you think I wasn't watching as you tried to wean yourself off your own product?
As you handed that pendant to Sigismund, as you accepted his cloak?
You promised to return to them one day.
I wish you had gotten to.

It was never your place to decide who lives and who dies.
Yet you seem insistent on your right to that, don't you, you bitch?

What are souls and spirits and bodies
But toys under your command,
A gesture made out to consume
All that you want to hold in hand?

I hope you rot.

I wish it was in my morals to force it, but it isn't.
I hope you are forgotten like the rest of your family.
The annals of history deserve better than you.

It was never our place to determine who lives and dies.
Neither your place nor mine, you see, were (or are) that luxurious.

You were an alchemist, attempting to scrounge from nothing.

I was a bard, drawing meager inspiration from those around her.

Now you lay in the stars, lured to rest by one that should have never had a claim on your life,
And I hear your voice in the hymns that they sing to me.

I only hope you were comforted by hearing me before you slept for the last time.

If I get stronger, will nothing like this ever happen again?
If I protect some, can I protect them all?
No. They won't allow it.
But I never cared about people allowing things anyway.

Singing louder wouldn't have made things better.

But they let me save the one that you died for.

Even if the song I should write for you is forgotten?

She'll remember what you've done in her name.

I hope you can forgive me, wherever you are,
For failing to save you like I did her.

I'm sorry, Marissa.

I'm so sorry.

I'll just have to fight next time, won't I?