Sad II /Sad Sentence Starters
The fading ice mage blinks up at the gray storm clouds brewing over them, feeling the premature droplets of an ominous, heavy rain drop on his cold skin. He’s been defeated, both as Reitei and Vastia, a powerful fusion of yin and yang and he had been his own demise, diminishing his plethora of magic in an attack that had finally claimed victory over one of Zeref’s demons.
He’s depleted both his life force and magic, both rapidly dissipating and soon, his body might too. He knew of the consequences to use such a taboo lost magic, but it had saved countless lives, save for his own, but he knew what he was getting in to. It was an art more sacrificing than Iced Shell, but at least the fibers of one’s body is preserved into an unmeltable ice (well, it’s able to be dissolved, thanks to his discovery long ago), as for this magic, he was meant to be blown apart into icy shards, he’s only in one piece because of a certain girl’s link.
Every breath is excruciating, his chest barely raises and falls with each small, rare breath he can muster. The rain begins to fall now, none too gently and his clothes become soaked within moments as he feels the mud become one with the fabric. The scent of pine and rainfall is strong, but it is overpowered by the iron scent of his spilled blood pooling into the puddles surrounding his figure as he lays flat out on the softening earth, Meredy at his side and feeling just as faint as he due to the connection wrapped on their wrists. It’s the only place he feels warmth, whereas the rest of him is cold as death.
"Not ‘we’." He says softly, blinking the rough rainwater from his eyes. "Just I. Break the link, Meredy." Lyon murmurs, weakly turning his head to look at the pink-haired girl splayed by his side, having fought so bravely with him as did the rest of his comrades, but the foe was an enemy far too powerful that would have not known defeat had he not performed such a taxing spell.
She is bruised and tattered, but mostly in one piece as opposed to him who’s suffering from wide, blown open wounds covering his body. He feels the rain seeping into the crevices of his blooming, exposed flesh. “You’ll make it if you do it.” Lyon says, using what little strength he had to look at the sky again. His sight is blurring.
"Live. For her…and me." With that, it all turned to black.