grellshitei whispered:
"It killed her to have to stand there so far away from him. Hand balled into tight, trembling fists as she searched her mind for any way that she could break him free, any last minute effort that might have some chance of success; but it seemed there was nothing that could possibly be done. As they read of his crimes it was hard to hold her tongue. She bit into her lip until blood trickled down her chin. Unable to watch the scythe fall her eyes closed, ignoring the flow of tears falling from them"
Alan was dead. All of his efforts had been for nothing, and now he would be put to death for his crimes. Eric welcomed the idea of death. Each crime that rolled off of the tongue of the executioner brought closer the end that he knew he rightly deserved. It was a release from his pain, from his sins.
If there was an afterlife at all for his kind (he hoped there was, but knew it was most likely impossible), he hoped that Alan would be there, waiting for him.
No one would mourn him in this realm.
As the executioner grabbed his shoulders and shoved him to his knees, Eric’s gaze locked with someone that he knew. That someone was crying. “Grell…” The name fell from his lips as the scythe was raised, gleaming with the early sunrise orange. He smiled peacefully with distant eyes. “I’ll be–"
The scythe struck and his body fell in a heap to the ground. He was as still as the death that greeted him, sins finally atoned.
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