Conclusion

[Skoll]

[html]

Gonna miss this guy. Skoll pushed himself away, hissing through his teeth. The battle had only been going on for four minutes or so, and yet the two of them were both near breaking point. He drew in a breath, and pain shot through his body. It hurt so badly to breathe...he had suffered two or three broken ribs from Asmodai's onslaught. Powerful self-control had allowed him to pick up his enemy and throw him to the ground, but now he was spent. He gasped, needing to breathe heavily, forcing shock after shock of pain. Asphyxia. Damn it. The gray wolf was rising, slowly, painfully, from where he'd landed. Skoll rose slowly, unsteadily to his feet. He had to live. This wasn't over yet. On the ground, he would lose, but if he received any further blows to his chest he would be struggling to resist passing out. His enemy looked to him again, his eyes betraying nothing of the damage he'd received. One more try, then. I just have to kill him quickly. Body, listen to me for just a few more moments. Asmodai strode forward, and received a right-handed blow to the face, through his guard, sending him staggering backward. Skoll followed up with his left, then a right, backing off when his last blow failed to connect. The gray wolf, breathing heavily, approached again. Skoll met him with another volley of blows, this time failing to get past his forearms. A right-handed shot caught the seven-year-old, fast and below the chin, and his head jolted upward. In that window, that damnably small window, a left hand, claws extended, darted in, gripping the right side of his neck. The claws dug in, and Skoll immediately grabbed that arm, holding it in place. Jerking forward or back would be deadly. Asmodai set his forearm against his enemy's skull, and a moment before it happened, Skoll knew it was over. One arm pushed his head back, and the other pulled that vital part of his neck forward. The artery was cut, and warm blood spilled copiously down his right side. Asmodai disengaged. He looked down at himself. He felt no different, save for the pain in his neck, but he knew that soon he would become light-headed and nauseous. Asphyxia...gods, please let her know how sorry I am. Through his anguish, his vision flashed red. A horrible leer crept across his features as his eyes shone through with madness. He breathed deeply, quickly. It hurt, and he loved it. The pain was terrible, and wonderful. And he would visit it upon the person who had visited it upon him. A wide, toothy grin, greeting Asmodai as the victor's face fell. His fur bristled and the exhaustion seemed to leak from his body with the blood that was spilling from his neck. His steps came faster, and his enemy backed away, unsure of this change which had taken place. Asmodai was broken from the battle, his body bruised and cut, beaten and cracked. He had just become aware of how near he was to collapsing when he'd stepped away from Skoll. Now, worn and weary, he stumbled backward, onto his back, and fear flitted across his face as he saw this new beast descending upon him. No. Skoll's advance stopped. The blood was leaving his body, quickly, and he was already beginning to feel the effects, mere moments after the fatal attack. The red left his vision, and the maddened smile was replaced by a deep, irreparable weariness. He fell to his knees, and then into an awkward sitting position. The strength would leave him soon. He would use it to speak, not to kill. He would not die a monster. He smiled tiredly. He wouldn't let his defeat here let him lose his years-long struggle against his own blood. "I won't die a monster," he said, strength enough still to fight through the pain and speak normally. "I concede defeat." He wanted to weep, weep for the family he would never see, for the woman whose eyes he would never again look into. The image he'd had of her, before turning away just hours ago, would be enough. It would always be enough, no matter where death took him. He would not weep. He would be strong, this one last time. "I..." he was fading faster than he had expected. The severance of the artery must have been more complete than he'd thought. "I'm sorry, Asphyxia." His eyes fell closed, and his body slumped. He lacked the strength to hold himself up, a pervasive weakness taking his limbs and body. He had been at death's door so many times, and so many times no one had opened it to welcome him in. Today was different. He saw something...he wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed...warm. This didn't make sense, death was cold, it was raw and brutal. He had never imagined that it might be pleasant, at the very end, as the body shut down, the pain and fear battling against a rush of comfort and familiarity. He embraced that warmth, and was gone. ~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.

[/html]