Chapter Text
The first time Verso killed himself, he didn’t even realise he had done it. Night had fallen over the continent, but sleep evaded him, his sleeping bag promising nothing but restless dreams and false memories.
He didn’t know which was worse. His nightmares, or the wishful remnants of a life he had never lived?
Watching the stars rise above him, Verso had remembered his not-younger self adoration for them. Verso had painted this canvas’ stars to be bright enough to chase any monster from the dark. There had been adventures with Esquie to chase after the glistening lights, to climb so high they could touch their warmth. It felt unfair, in a way, that the boy had been able to feel their fire while Verso was stuck under their cold stare.
His wings had spread in answer to his chest's yearning. He wanted his own memory of touching the stars.
So Verso had climbed up, and up, and up, until his wings ached and his breath turned cold from the freezing air. He had forced his weary limbs to beat faster, higher, even after his lungs stopped bringing oxygen to his heart. His gaze was stuck on a lone star shining above him, still cold, still too far despite the reducing fractured earth below him. His body had pushed forward, wings lifting him well beyond his limit, until black spots had taken over his vision.
Verso didn't remember falling. He remembered climbing up, the star so close it was almost in his grasp, then peaceful nothingness. He remembered waking up to the ground striking his head and the pain of his body breaking into pieces. The smash thankfully brought him back into the nothingness, leaving only a trace of memory behind.
He remembered waking up again to the sight of the night sky, its cold lights watching him from afar, as the memory of a boy stroking them haunted his mind. An imperfect recreation, able only to roam shadows where the original was a god roaming amidst stars.
He did it again anyway. Sometimes it was the sun, sometimes it was the night stars. Whichever attracted his ire this day. Verso took off and flew up until he reached his body limit, challenging the star to a race he couldn't win, death always crippling him on the verge of success. The act was in vain, a pitiful tantrum of a creature cornered into eternity; yet it allowed him to touch, just for a moment, the fabric of the cage he was trapped in. More than that, for a few peaceful seconds, it brought him the gift of oblivion.
Verso flew, and Verso fell.
Verso woke up, so he flew again.
𓇢𓆸 ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ 𓍯𓂃🖌
The second time Verso killed himself, it was through the fury of a fight. Expeditioners were falling one by one under the Dualliste blade. So many had died from Nevrons on the way here already, it broke Verso’s heart to see their number dwindle even more. He charged into the fight, knowing it was already too late to fend the Dualliste off. Still, he refused to back down. He was tired of sitting and watching people get murdered.
He kicked the large Nevron on its mask, falling like a meteor from the sky to force it to stagger backward. His appearance attracted several surprised glances from the fighting group, but as soon as the expeditioners realised he was battling the Dualliste, they welcomed it. They separated the battlefield into two sides: one made of Verso, distracting the Dualliste with a fast flurry of aerial attacks, while the others slid in blows and threw as many spells as they still had the chroma to send.
Injuries stacked up on his body faster than they could heal. His wings had taken damage, reducing his flight to glorified jump, and his muscles were aching so much they were trembling. It took him longer than it should have for him to realise that the secondary set of attacks had ceased, and the Duellist attention was being solely focused on him.
He turned towards the retreating expeditioners. “Continue! We can do it!”
A large sword swipe stole his attention back towards the fight. The absence of supporting spells was answer enough however. Verso grit his teeth and focused on stopping the Dualliste for as long as he could. He couldn’t blame them for choosing to retreat rather than fight with a stranger. If the group managed to escape the Battlefield, they may get a chance to survive the night.
Inevitably, Verso’s legs faltered under the Dualliste blows. The sky was long out of his reach by now, an earlier strike cutting through the delicate feather-covered flesh. Knees digging into the dirty mud, he parried once, then twice, then thrice… Until his arms faltered as well, and an additional cut appeared along his neck. Still, Verso staggered back upward, challenging the Nevron to keep him down.
Each minute mattered.
He wished he could say the Dualliste had failed. But the Nevron’s blade struck true, sending bursts of pain through his torso. When Verso refused to stay down anyway, confident in the knowledge blood loss wouldn’t kill him, the blade removed his sword arm. His nerves shouted in agony. Verso showed none of it. He clenched his remaining hand around his dagger and charged.
Verso never really learnt what part the Dualliste cut next. He could take a guess, from the blood-splattered ground and the oblivion that followed. He wasn’t particularly tempted to check.
Screams reached the edge of his consciousness as his brain came back online. Chroma called to his separated parts, yearning to bring them back together. He moved with his mind filled with fog, barely registering his surroundings beyond the next piece of his body to fix. By the time the fog lifted, the screams had stopped. Verso walked towards their source anyway, still half-numb from the regeneration process.
He reached the scattered stonified body of the earlier expeditioners. Large lines were embedded on the figures, the Dualliste blade mark on flesh and bones forever immortalised. The Nevron must have chased after them as soon as Verso had fallen down. All his pain bought them was a dozen meters.
Verso felt an urge to echo the screams he’d heard earlier. It wasn’t as if there was anyone alive around to hear them. The Dualliste had done his job thoroughly. There was no one left to witness the ugly creature hiding behind his masks.
He opened his mouth and let out the despair curled inside his chest until his voice turned hoarse. When the Nevrons came with more blades, attracted by the noise, he let them strike true.