Cold (CW: death)

It was cold. So, so cold. The sun beat down heavily on Spirit’s prone form, but… still… she was so cold. She wanted to shiver. Try to get something to warm herself up but…. She couldn’t get her legs underneath her. She couldn’t move. She tried to suck in a breath. She couldn’t. The ground underneath her was so cold. Why was she laying here again? What happened? Why couldn’t she move? Her half lidded eyes would trail downwards. What was that liquid she was laying in? It was crimson. Was that her…… Oh. Oh yeah. That explained the ache in her chest. Explained why she could barely move. Maybe she should just close her eyes and let it be over with. There was no coming back from this one. She didn’t have time to make a sigil, or cast anything. She lost. That was it. She had… lost. It wasn’t a blaze of glory, either. It wasn’t interesting. It wasn’t a heroic sacrifice. She just… made a slip up. Her movements were too sloppy. She was too confident. And next thing she knew, she was on the ground. And she was so, so, cold. Who would remember her? Would anyone notice she was gone, even? Would her memory as the Witch still remain? Would anyone care for Spirit? Would anyone know her name in a year? Two? Her golden eyes, much duller than their usual lustrous shine, would slowly close, as she felt the last breath she could leave her body. And… she laid there. Waiting for the cold to become unbearable. Waiting for her body to give out. Her lungs burned. Her heart struggled to beat. Her face was covered in a sticky, sickly, red liquid. But those last moments never came. She tried to move again. Her legs wouldn’t work. But that never stopped her before. She would struggle, coughing up more of that crimson liquid, before she was able to force herself to roll onto her own back. The sun beat down just as heavily as before. Still looking as if it was in the same place overhead, despite the fact that she felt she’d been laying here for hours. Truly, this was a cruel joke. Whatever powers that be had kept her here. Frozen in this agony. Was it just to toy with her? To force her to repent for her sins? Well… she’d be here for quite a while, yet, then. She had a lot to make up for. The light was much brighter overhead. She didn’t think much of it. She just closed her eyes, and waited. And waited. And then… she heard something. A voice? Was it physical or in her mind? Was she just going mad, now, as well? Could she not spend her last moments in peace? ‘You aren’t done here.’ Not done here? What could that mean? Of course she was done here. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart was barely beating! ‘You have much work to do.’ Spirit coughed. Rather than a shower of blood, though, all that escaped was a gout of dust. Her heart beat once more. Then again. And again. Her lungs still burned, but they were struggling to kick back in. Another cough, another rush of dust leaving her body. Soon enough, Spirit could feel her limbs. She slowly shifted. Slowly moved. And she got up to her hooves. “Stars above… I can’t even die right.” //I had a stupid idea about spirit dying but being reborn as a revenant, continuing her work. Super duper non canon, but I get very bored on lunch sometimes.