The scream echoed through his head, his own voice fading as her pale slender fingers grasped the shaft of the scythe.
Deep in his hest he heard, felt his own heart beat suddenly, his back arching as something within him was tugged forward.
Then it started, the scythe biting deep into his palm, sucking, feeding, pulling the power out of him, a burning hunger shooting through his veins, devouring him. The world faded away, his ears locked on his own heart beat as another started.
Eldritch shot up from the crown of his head linking him to Setsuna as the cycle continued through the scythe, pulling from him, to pour into her. God her scream, it chilled him, the power of gods tearing apart the mortal, to rebuild a goddess. He felt pain, cold, dread, things he had not been aware of while he still clinged to the mantle of the Shinigami.
Thump thump…thump thump…thump thump…
They echoed each other, aligning, changing, her fair hair rising up, staining chestnut and braiding down her back. The delicate, petite frame grew, filling out, muscle building, her body toning, strength to wield the scythe. Leather crawled up over her skin, binding round her body in the bondage of her role.
Thump thump..thump thump...thump thump…
He watched as she bit her lip, fangs breaking the skin, her fist tightening on the scythe that now seared his flesh, chilling his marrow. A weight left his shoulders as her head went back crying out, her shoulders hunching, splitting as her back ripped open, showering blood over Shinigami. He looked away, his angel opening her new violet eyes, framed back black butterfly wings. His hand slipped weakly from the scythe as the echo faded.
Now there was one, now there was hers, Celestia, the goddess of death.
Shivering he glanced at what she'd stolen, his twin, his mirror image, the female half of him.
A faint ghost of himself chuckled ~ damn I'm hot~ as she looked back at him, spinning the scythe and facing the hydra.
Blinking he grabbed Quatre, hating himself for what she'd become.
" there's no time Shinigami, I'm new born and strong I'll manage, you have little time, there must always be a death, without it there can be no life, there must always be suffering to appreciate joy"
He watched her Bring the scythe down on the ground with a crash as everything disappeared. The final image of his angel surrounded by the dark , bathed in the purple glow of her power, strong, tall, confident, the way he never was, the way he should have been, imprinted on his mind