we deserve a soft epilogue, my love

The Spirit Tree was always quite beautiful at this time of year.

Of course, neither of those two things truly mattered, as time had always seemed to be a concept, and the Spirit Tree was always beautiful. It was fitting, in a way– to see their lives laid out in the foliage, each strand of fate carefully woven into the opalescent leaves that shone in the evening light.

However, fate, pretty though it may seem, is cruel.

That was the lesson the False Angel and Dea had been forced to learn. Throughout months, they fought, against the system, Koda, each other, even alongside each other. But other than that, they learnt what it truly meant to be human– which they technically were not, but who’s to say how important that is– and how to break free from the purpose dictated for them from the moment they came into existence.

Perhaps, they were forced to realise, the only way they would truly be free was in death.

They both knew, of course. Defeating the machine and destroying the Core would mean their life source was cut off, but they still searched for a way out, a way to survive. They both knew there was none. 

To be completely honest, neither of them would have expected to be wanting to spend their last moments with the other. They were polar opposites, enemies down to their very being. And yet somehow, against all odds, they had found each other in the chaos, two lost souls clinging to each other for comfort and warmth.

Which, once you considered they were quite literally made to subdue the other by possibly not so pacifistic means, was quite an odd thing to think about.

They had wandered the Apolune for what felt like weeks but was likely days or hours or even minutes, almost aimlessly now that they didn’t have to constantly be on alert, looking for a safe place to stay. It was nicer now, now that everywhere they went, the sounds of death and destruction didn’t hang over their heads. No longer did they have to pass the remnants of civilization. They once heard the screams of the dying, the murmurs of those Fallen. They felt the hunger, the anger, the pain, the fear. That ended today– or to be more exact, two weeks ago. What could be more correct is that they ended today.

They weren’t going to think about that until they absolutely had to. They knew they had no future, no hope. But they had each other, and that was enough. Somehow (neither really quite knew how it happened), they loved each other with a fierce and desperate passion, a passion that burned brighter than the animosity they once held so long ago.

So if they had to go, why not go out with a bang?

The False Angel grinned, hearing gentle footsteps behind her, and turned away from the Tree. “Well, took you long enough,” she said with a grin.

“You’re early,” Dea noted. “It isn’t our fault that we’re right on time.”

“Hey, we need all the time we can get.”

“We have quite the amount of time to work with.” Whether it was true or not remained up to debate. They glanced down at the flower they were holding, the one the False Angel had sent to them as a wordless invitation. “Viscaria?”

“Of course.” The False Angel grinned. “You know the meaning, I take it?”

“As if we wouldn’t?”

“Well then, yes, it’s viscaria, if you’ll accept it.”

“Quite so. But give us a few moments.”

“We don’t have a few moments.”

“Then we’ll make time bend for us both.” Dea knelt down, gently shifting the dirt to make a hole deep enough for the flower.

“Really?” the False Angel commented. “You don’t need to plant it, you know, it’s not gonna do much.”

“No,” Dea agreed, “but it deserves a chance to live. Plus, it does make the place seem rather lively, doesn’t it?”

“There are about two bajillion other flowers here, Dea.”

“Then we shall make it two bajillion and one.” They stood. “This is really how you’d prefer to spend our last moments?”

“What else are we gonna do? Sit here and cry? We’ve done enough of that. It’ll be fun, trust me. Our first dance was so unforgettable, let’s make our last even better.” The False Angel put the record in place, grabbed Dea’s hand, and pulled them towards the Tree. “Come on, dollface, let’s have one last dance before we go out with a bang.” She flashed a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes, spinning Dea around and wrapping her arms around their waist.

They laughed softly and followed. “We hate that we let you convince us to do this.”

“Do what? Dance with me?”

“No, Angel.” They pulled her in close, twirling around. “That we allowed ourselves to get so close to you. Because despite all odds, we find ourselves… well, something akin to falling in love with you.” 

“I think I’m okay with that.”

“Feelings are complicated,” they grumbled. “We have no clue how most stand it. To think that love can be something entirely different than what we have, and yet that many people insist on calling it such, is… confusing.”

“Oh, yeah. Lots of unintentionals, whatever the hell it is, yadda yadda, you get it. You said you wouldn’t fall in love with me, after all.” 

“We didn’t. Did you not just hear us?”

The False Angel rolled her eyes. “You said you wouldn’t develop any sort of emotional attachment to me.”

“...We lied.”

“And here I thought I was the Machiavelli of us both.”

“Shush.”

A faint melody hung in the air, so quiet yet so striking that they would almost assume the Tree itself had resonated with it. (Of course, they would never admit such a thing if asked.) Nothing nearly as dramatic as their first dance, they noticed, and not truly needing to be. They much preferred passion to tension. Whatever song the False Angel had picked, she had picked it well– a simple piano-violin due–

Oh.

“...Is this the one from OMORI?” Dea asked, already knowing the answer.

The False Angel shrugged. “It’s fitting.”

“We never said it wasn’t. We do suppose this is… quite the melancholy moment.”

“Who says it needs to be melancholy?”

“...Fair point.”

They stayed there for a few moments, gently swaying back and forth until Dea spoke up. “It’s slower,” they noted.

“Hm?”

“Than our first, we mean,” they clarified. “A fairly normal waltz pace this time.”

The False Angel grinned. “How fast?”

They rolled their eyes. “We are not getting caught up in this again.” A moment of silence, and then, “One hundred and fifteen.”

“Did you count that fast? ”

“No. That was the long overdue answer from our first dance. Danse Macabre, remember?”

Of course she did. She certainly hadn’t expected it to become a pattern. Regardless, she still looked back on that day fondly.

“...Hah. The Dance of Death,” Dea mused under their breath. “Quite ironic. Who would have known we would end up here?”

“Well, I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.” 

“We would rather be living, perhaps.”

“Mm. Touche.” Dea chucked softly. “It’s hard to think we were enemies at one point.”

The False Angel shrugged. “Not my fault you sucked back then.”

“Oh, please.”

“Come on, I know you love me. Would you go so far as to call it love at first sight?”

“Perhaps complete and total avarice at first sight.”

“Hah! The closest thing to that I’ve ever experienced happened when I first laid eyes on you.”

“Do not make us sour this moment.”

“And you’ll do what? Attack me?” She grinned. “You wouldn’t, love.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what, call you that?”

“No, we’re fine with that terminology from you.”

“Character development!”

Dea rolled their eyes. “If you keep being a nuisance, you’re going to force our hand.”

The False Angel laughed, leaning in closer. “ Really now?”

“Not like that, you imbecile,” they mumbled, pushing her back. They sighed softly, glancing up at the Spirit Tree. “It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Wouldn’t be as beautiful without you,” the False Angel replied. Dea’s face flushed as they looked away. The False Angel simply tilted their head back up. “Come on, it’s rude to deny me one last look at you. May be the last chance I’ll get.”

“...That is true, isn’t it?”

“Mhm.” She paused. “Funnily enough, I didn’t actually intend to compliment you in that specific way, I mean to commend your work on the tree’s upkeep, but hey, both are true. Two birds with one stone.”

“You’ve come quite a ways from the sycophant you were.”

“Exactly!” She spun around. “Now it’s genuine.”

“Mm, we’re thrilled.”

“If it matters, uh… I know this doesn’t mean much, considering…” She vaguely gestured to the room around them. “You know. But I hope you figure it out someday.” 

Dea raised an eyebrow. “Figure what out?” 

She shrugged. “Whatever purpose you’re looking for in life.”

They hesitated, then laughed softly. “We never told you that before. You noticed?”

“Of course I noticed, I notice everything about everyone, especially you. We may be about to die, but you can’t get rid of me that easily. So, wanna spill?”

“Not particularly.”

“Correction: spill.”

“Fine,” they groaned. “Angel. We just… we both know these are going to be our last moments tending to this tree, ever. And in a way, it’s one of the hardest things to let go of.”

The False Angel pouted. “Not me?”

They chuckled softly. “We said ‘one of’ for a reason. But this… in a way this is our legacy.”

“Will it die? If you die, I mean? Cause you’re not here anymore.”

“No,” they explained. “We, although connected, are still separate. One could say we exist for each other as mirrors. We suppose we were here to see it along in life, and now it will see us along in death.”

“Who do you think will take care of it?”

“Hm?”

“The Tree, I mean,” the False Angel clarified. “After you’re gone.”

They pondered on this for a moment. “If we may,” they said eventually, “we think it will hold strong on its own. Life has managed to sustain itself even in the darkest of places. We think it will live on.”

“You mean you’ll live on.”

“You’re looking for deeper meaning where there is none there.”

“Who said I was interpreting what you said?” She turned. “You will, you know. You kept this tree alive. Now it’s its turn to return the favour.”

“It already has, in a way,” they mused. “It may not control time, but it certainly contains it. Protects it, if you will. It’s what brought us to you.”

The False Angel laughed. “And you say you’re not the romantic here. You… you flirt back.”

“That isn’t even flirting. That is simply us stating the truth.”

“Yes, but we’re the ones trying to hold a relationship together with… you know. You’re still the romantic one.”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would be sufficient.”

“Come on, dollface, I’m simply showing you how much I care in my own way. You always did say you liked how unique I was,” she replied, ignoring that Dea had first said that through gritted teeth. “Romance or not, if I didn’t really trust you, we wouldn’t be dancing together right now.”

Dea sighed with a soft shake of their head. “Unbelievable. You’re the least romantic person we have ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

“You’re blushing.”

“We are not.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She hesitated, and Dea was almost about to speak up before she asked, “If I can be honest?”

Dea nodded. “Go ahead.”

“This is not how I thought I would die.”

“Oh, of course not. The way you were going, having delightful company such as ourselves by your side would be unthinkable.”

She snickered. “Shut up.”

“Are we wrong?”

“I’m telling Arielle you said that.”

“Mm, see if you get a chance to.”

The False Angel’s words died off, leaving only the music in the air.

“Oh. A- our apologies,” Dea mumbled. “We realise now how such a statement could be a sensitive topic.”

“You’re so verbose,” the False Angel snarked, rolling her eyes with a wan smile. “...You think she’ll be okay?”

“She was before you were here, was she not?”

“She wasn’t at risk of dying before I was here.”

“And is she now?”

She shrugged. “Humans always seem to be. Disease, car accidents, anything involving their incredible fragility—”

“Angel.”

“Fine.” She sighed. “I suppose she isn’t.”

“Exactly,” Dea insisted. “She’s learned, thanks to you. Just as our influence will be left behind on this tree, yours will stay with her.”

“How metaphorical.”

“It needs to be said. Although, it sounded like you had something else on your mind.”

“It’s your fault for throwing me off track.”

“Expound, Angel.”

“Fine, fine. Pushy.” The False Angel smiled. “It’s nice to hear you call me that, actually. Just Angel. When did that change? When did you stop calling me the False Angel altogether?”

“We can’t be certain. But we call you that because it’s simply what you are. Now expound. ”

“Mm, no, I’m not feeling li–”

Dea spun the two of them around, letting go of the False Angel’s other hand with such a graceful force that she stumbled. Dea simply grabbed her again in something akin to a dip. “Must we ask again?”

“This is why I love you.” The False Angel got to her feet, finding her way back between  the music and their dance. “You’re not afraid to get what you want.”

“You’re stalling,” Dea noted, voice lilting. “Which we suppose is why we care about you so deeply as well.”

“Really? Tell me more.”

They sighed. “You’re deflecting.”

“Mhm. Can’t blame me for liking flattery more.”

“Egoist.”

“Sap.”

“You have no reason to call us that.”

“You want me to talk about my feelings, here, in a safe space, so I don’t have anything weighing on my mind when… when we go,” the False Angel guessed, faltering only slightly. “Am I correct?”

“You are.”

“Hah! Sharp as ever.”

They brought their hand up to the side of the False Angel’s head. “Angel, please.” 

The False Angel still remembered the day she asked Arielle how to properly tell someone they might like them as more than a friend. Her answer was… less than helpful.

“I dunno, I just– I just kinda kissed Kira? So? That’s definitely not the best way, take that with a grain of salt.”

“...What if neither of us really have a mouth in the conventional sense?”

“...Oh my God, are you crushing on Dea?”

Something like kissing, they had found, seemed a bit too human. Wrong, in a sense, seeing as neither of them were such. And perhaps this was just due to their differences, but it seemed to… lack such a connection. Yes, they could see the appeal, but the emotional far outlasted the physical, they had learned. They were both much more comfortable working with the mind, anyway– and, although the False Angel would never, ever admit this, she much preferred what they had come up with. It was hard to explain, in all honesty. It was a brief connection, one that transcended words, one that let them tap into the other for just a moment. The False Angel wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The False Angel sighed as Dea removed their hand. “Fine. You… you deserve to know.” She hesitated. “What was the question again?”

They rolled their eyes. “Good grief.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault! I just suck at memory!”

“Memory was your whole job! And we do believe you were the one stretching this conversation out longer than it needed to be,” Dea mentioned. “You asked if we thought Arielle would be okay without you. But before that, you said how this was not how you expected to die.”

“Mm, yeah, that,” the False Angel mumbled under her breath.

No further response came.

“Angel?”

“I’m thinking.”

Dea raised an eyebrow. “Of a way to avoid our question?”

“You wound me.” She sighed. “I just… I’ve been thinking, I guess–”

“Oh, dear.”

The False Angel shot them down with a glare. “I’ve been thinking, ” she repeated, “I obviously had not planned my death, but I assumed, knowing how this place is infested with death constantly, I’d go down in a fight.”

“It would be fitting.”

“Yeah, you’d think that. Like, if I have to go, I wanna be a legend.”

“You already are, to us.”

She laughed. “See? You’re totally flirting.”

“We’re being literal,” Dea insisted. “We were created for you, of course you’d be important.”

“You described soulmates. You’re flirting.”

“Please do us a favour and shut your mouth.”

“No.”

“Correction: that was not a request,” they amended. “You’ll be quiet if you know what’s best for you.”

“Ooooh, threatening me? Dangerous game, love.”

“We’d win.” Before the False Angel had a chance to protest, they continued, “You were quite the cause célèbre throughout those Fallen. A profound force, yet a mystery.”

“What does that even mean ?” she asked. “I know I’m great, though, tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well, based on your idea of the definition of cause célèbre, that’s certainly something unknown to you. You would call it the talk of the town.”

“Yeah, that tracks.”

“But that’s just it. You made a legacy for yourself, between your…” They flipped between a couple words in their head for a moment, trying to find anything other than ‘sadomasochism’, before stumbling out, “...uniqueness…”

“You can just say I killed people, it’s okay.”

“Your crimes against society,” Dea amended, “and your drive, your advocacy. Even when you stay silent, it’s a weapon rather than compliance. You were a model, in some ways– one that Koda quite hated, thus why we are here.”

“And yet you’re dancing with me.” The False Angel grinned. “I would assume you’d have better things to do.”

“Well, we– we might have seen the appeal of your outlook on life.”

“Oh? Pray tell, dollface. What’s so appealing about that? About me?”

“Unimportant.”

“No, no, speak.”

“Forget it. Just like you forget everything else,” they teased.

The False Angel pouted. “Insulting.”

“Come now, you know it’s true.”

“Okay, yeah, I’m not the best, but hey, what if this is another act of rebellion? Plus, I fully admit to it, which should count for something.”

“It counts for naught. But we suppose that’s simply part of you as well.” Dea sighed, looking up at the branches above them. The leaves shone opalescent in the light, and the many branches above them had become twisted, timelines run over and over again. “We do hope you understand that you were so important to us that it felt as if you were meant to be such.”

The False Angel paused. “I know,” she replied. “What, you think you were ever actually going to stop me? I’m just that charming.”

They chuckled softly. “Touche. You were– well, no, not perfect, no one is, certainly not you–”

“Hey!” 

“But regardless, we could never be worthy of you.”

“I understand. For what it’s worth. It… you know, I’m glad we ended up like this. I don’t think I could have brought myself to kill you.”

“Vulnerability? From you? Quite unexpected,” Dea teased before continuing, “You have been, in some ways, more than an enemy to us. More than a friend. We have a bond to you that no one else will ever understand.”

“I think I understand it.”

“You do not.”

“Yes, I do.”

“We’re making a point, Angel, stop shutting us down.”

“Mhm, one issue. Your points suck.”

“We’re so certain they do.” They broke away from the False Angel’s hands, their wings spreading just slightly, and turned to the Tree. “Do you think we could stop it?” they asked. “If somewhere, a Keeper like us were to destroy the branch that holds our deaths… could we live?”

The False Angel grinned. “I love seeing how you’ve changed.”

“Hm?” 

“You never, ever would have thought about that before. I love that about you.” She grabbed their hand again. “But… we both know why that one won’t work. You told me yourself.”

They sighed. “It isn’t fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, dollface.”

“Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

“Take it as you will.” They traced a hand over the flowers dappling the Tree’s roots. “What do you think comes after death?”

The False Angel hesitated. “You know… I’ve never thought about that. Not so sure I want to,” she admitted. “You think we’ll get into Heaven?”

“That depends on if it exists.”

“Come on, dollface, you’re an angel, I’m an angel–”

“A false angel, if we remember correctly.”

“Shut up,” she dismissed. “You’re just as bad as I am.”

Silence.

The False Angel spoke up again. “Are you… are you feeling alright?”

Dea hesitantly nodded. “...We’ve never felt this way before, and truthfully, it scares us. But, the idea of never trying scares us even more. Being scared in itself is still quite new.”

“Paradoxical.”

“Indeed,” they agreed. “Yet we find ourselves wanting you. All of you, and not just halfheartedly, but wholly. And maybe that’s selfish, but we don’t care.”

“Well, you’ve got me, dollface.” She spread her hands. “We’ve been by each other’s sides for years, you think I’m gonna leave now?”

“If we asked you to stay, would you?”

“You may ask.”

They rolled their eyes, then softly spoke, “Can you stay? Just for… for these last moments, please. We don’t want to be alone with our thoughts.” 

“I had no intention to do anything else.”

“We don’t know why we thought you’d deny us,” they muttered. “We suppose it does feel quite selfish.”

“Who cares? This is our time, no one else’s. For once in your life, do what you want! Be selfish!” She sighed. “Like, would you call me selfish for just wanting our happily ever after? We deserve it, right?” 

“That isn’t selfish. But not all stories get a happily ever after. Sometimes it’s just once upon a time.” They smiled softly. “What are you hoping for? When all this is over?”

“You know… I don’t know what I’m hoping for. Is nothingness better than continuing on?”

“Now you’re getting philosophical,” Dea noted. “And we both know how petulant you get when you’re philosophical.”

“That’s complete and utter bullshit.”

“ You’re complete and utter bullshit.”

The False Angel paused (and, although Dea would never say it out loud, they found the expression on her face adorable and hilarious) before bursting into laughter.

Dea stopped in their tracks. “What are you laughing at?”

The False Angel put one hand to her mouth, trying to keep from laughing. “No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. What do you find so hilarious?”

“You, dollface.”

“Us?”

“Yeah! You think you ever would have said that months ago? I mean, just– to think of what you used to be like, all stuck-up and idiosyncratic–”

“You weren’t any better.”

“But that’s just it! Weren’t, ” she emphasised. “You were made to oppose me. You were supposed to be completely static, and yet I’m very certain the Harbinger would not be dancing with their worst enemy.”

“We suppose we wouldn’t if that were the case.” 

She smiled. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

“Oh, please,” Dea said. “Hardly forgettable. You nearly tore our throat out.”

“You provoked me!”

“We talked to you. Are you simply that antisocial?”

“Hey, we wouldn’t be dancing right now if I hadn’t invited you to do so.”

They laughed softly, twirling around. “Admittedly, you were quite cute when we caught you. You tried to act tough, but anyone could see the fear in your eyes.”

“That’s cute to you?”

“Is it not the same for you?”

“...Touche,” the False Angel conceded. “You were the one who was cute. You were getting angry, and trying not to get angry, and trying not to show any emotion, repeat, rewind, et cetera et cetera. Time passed, somehow we ended up at the ballroom, and talked for hours.”

“And then you tricked us into messing up our numbers and tricked us further into dropping into trance, leading to at least three completely detrimental yet avoidable situations, nearly completely destroying both of our mental states.”

She grinned. “And then we fell in love.”

“Or something of the sort.”

“Limerence.”

“Not that either.”

“Infatuation.”

“Closest yet.”

“Erotomania.”

“Well, now that’s just wrong,” they argued. “The whole thing is believing someone is in love with you where they are not.” They paused for a moment. “And, seeing as our relationship is reciprocal…”

“Awwwww, you love meeeeee.”

“Shush.”

“…Promise me something?” the False Angel asked.

Dea nodded. “We can say with certainty we’re quite unlikely to deny you anything at this point.”

“Don’t let me stop you. If I go first, I mean. Don’t waste your last moments lamenting over me, just… promise me you’ll keep dancing?”

They nodded again. “If we may ask, where’s this coming from?”

“Hm?”

“There’s something behind this request, we believe.”

For a moment, the False Angel was tempted to answer You’re looking for deeper meaning where there is none there, but she knew she at least owed Dea this. “Alright, fine,” she conceded. “I’m just… I don’t know, I’m scared. I fought so hard, and now I’m here? I j– I don’t want to hold anything else up, I don’t want to make your last moments miserable. Because yeah, I am this unstoppable force of nature, and yet I’ve hit a brick wall.”

“How long have you felt like that?”

She shrugged. “Forever?”

“And we assume you haven’t talked about it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

A long pause, then a sigh. “I never ask for help because I’m not sure I know how.”

“Well, you should have told us sooner.”

“Look, I know, but it’s hard, alright? I feel like I’m falling apa–”

“No, Angel,” Dea interjected. “Not that. You should have told us you were having trouble. Even in passing. We would have tried our best to have helped.”

“That’s hard too.”

“And we get that. But there’s no point in trying if only one of us is willing to, correct?”

“...No.”

“Exactly. Because if you don’t, people are going to assume that ‘well, she is simply incapable of it, then. She must be incredibly weak.’”

The False Angel stifled a laugh. “Not helping!”

“Well–”

“We’re about to die and you’re making jokes?” A pause. “I’ve taught you so well.”

“You were right, you know,” they mused. “We are more than our purpose, and we have changed. But so are you.”

“Yeah, yeah, read all about it,” she dismissed.

“We are quite serious, Angel. You’re no longer sadistic and cynical, and yet you still remain you. Your ruthlessness turned into you being able to do whatever it takes to get to your goal. Your arrogance became confidence–”

“Well, that one hasn’t changed.”

“–your controlling nature became protective, Angel, don’t you see? You talk about breaking free and yet we think you still have a hard time seeing it. Let us show that to you. You lived, and were forced to live, in a sense, to put one foot in front of the other and change and grow and heal. You did this yourself. Others may have helped, but you ultimately made that change, and– well. You did so much, much quicker than we did. For what it’s worth, we never gave up on you. No matter what they made you think, you are worth saving. You are worth loving. And you are not your past.”

The False Angel laughed, but they both could tell there was no mirth behind it. “So they say, yeah.”

“And yes, we know Arielle helped you understand this, but you helped us understand this as well. You made us feel alive. You gave us a reason to be better, to do better. For the first time ever, we can finally breathe .” They smiled. “As much as we do love the others, they don’t compare to you. No one does. We would wait a thousand lifetimes for you, because you are worth waiting for. So, when you are ready, and if we ever manage to meet again someday… we’ll be right here. But at least for now, we’re not leaving you here.”

If the False Angel was blushing, no she wasn’t. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“It is true, you know.”

“Something something, something something flirting.”

“You’re trying to change the subject. This is the third time you’ve done that; we’re starting to think you are doing it on purpose.”

“Maybe I am, shut up. I am nothing if not consistent.” 

“A consistent pain in the neck,” they mumbled.

“Hey!” She laughed, placing her hand against Dea’s cheek. “I love you.”

They smiled, laying their hand over the False Angel’s. “And we, you.”

“...I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry I couldn't give you a better world.” 

Dea’s gaze softened. “Angel, you gave us everything that we have now. You gave us hope, you gave us courage, you gave us love. You are our world.”

“Well, pretty big responsibility for me, hm?”

“And we know you will rise to the call.”

As the music reached its crescendo, a sudden chill swept through the air, and the False Angel felt a strange heaviness in her heart. Dea, sensing something amiss, held her closer, as if trying to shield her from an invisible force. In the midst of their final dance, the False Angel’s eyes met Dea’s, and the understanding that passed between them didn’t need to be spoken to be profound. The melody wove a tale of love and loss as the False Angel’s strength waned, and she began to fade like a distant memory.

Dea spoke up. “Should w–”

“We’re not stopping,” the False Angel insisted. “I’m fighting until the end, dollface. Always have, so hey, it’s fitting.”

“Y–”

“I’m sure.”

They nodded. “Very well. Then we’ll stay with you until the end.”

The False Angel grinned, pushing the pain and the fear and the regret to the back of her mind. “Did you expect that this is how I’d go out?”

Somehow, they managed a laugh. “No,” they admitted. “We assumed you would get yourself killed in a battle for something entirely stupid yet admirable. And you would have won.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

They danced like that for a while, ignoring the chaos around them. They danced as if they were alone in the world, as if nothing else mattered. They danced as if they were in heaven, as if they were angels– as if this dance was to be their last.

And it was. But they had never felt more alive. They had found each other in this hell, and they had made their own heaven. 

Dea, holding the False Angel with a desperate tenderness they had never thought themself capable of, whispered words of love, hoping to anchor her fading soul to the present. But like a fleeting dream, the False Angel was still slipping away. With a bright gleam in her eyes (that seemed so, so much dimmer than usual, god, what happened to her …), the False Angel spun them around, letting go of one of their hands. Dea pulled them back in, and she dropped into a dip.

Faintly, they registered that she wasn’t supposed to be that limp.

And Dea knew, with an absolute certainty that shook them to their core, that the False Angel was dead. 

“Angel,” they whispered, clutching her close, as if that would change anything. “Angel, we can’t…” 

Silence. 

Dea was so used to hearing the screams that they didn’t realise the one echoing in their ears was theirs.

“Why?” they asked. Were they crying? They weren’t sure. “You c– why do they all leave? Why are you the one who must die? After all you have done, after what the two of us have achieved, and yet our life ends here?” Who were they blaming? The False Angel? Fate? Themselves? Again, they weren’t sure. The only thing they were sure of is that they had made a promise.

“Don’t waste your last moments lamenting over me, just… promise me you’ll keep dancing?”

And by the gods, they intended to keep it.

It felt lonely, too lonely, in the solemn silence where the False Angel’s snarky comments used to be. Their dance felt incomplete without her, but they had made a promise. They twirled and spun as the fog in the back of their head grew, and when had they sat down?

That didn’t matter now. They simply pulled her into a hug, trying to ignore how (cold cold so cold where is she?) empty it felt and how the music failed to even come close to filling that void. “We know pleading does nothing,” they sighed. “And this grief is… quite new. And honestly, quite terrifying.” They laid her down gently on the floor, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Despite how you may deny it, you were always much more of an angel than we were.” They knew they wouldn’t last much longer either. A numbness was already spreading through their limbs as was the coldness through their soul.

It didn’t take long. The music was fading, and so was Dea.

They smiled. “You were brave. And stupid.” 

A flower sprouted from the dirt.

They turned, trailing the fingers over the bright blue petals. “Morning glory,” they murmured. “Beauty of the dawn.” The cycle of life, rebirth, love in vain… “How fitting.”

“Thank you for giving us this dance. Thank you for giving us this life.” 

Dea didn’t see the yellow wallflower bloom between their fingers, intertwined with the False Angel’s morning glory. Persistence, determination, faith in adversity.

“We’ll see you soon, our angel,” they whispered. “And we hope you’re causing chaos in whatever afterlife may be.”

They took one last look at their False Angel, closed their eyes and let the darkness bring them home.