[ It would be wrong to tell a dying troll that he's mistaken, so Tavros doesn't. Without Gamzee he would have become someone like Rufio, someone fueled by hate and small mindedness who could hardly stand to see anyone below himself breathing the same air as he does.
He holds fast to that look and commits it to memory.
It will be fast. The sword will bite through his neck so quickly he won't even realize it. Another hole through the head for good measure, he'll try to leave it in tact because he can't stomach destroying that face. He focuses on that, not the soft words, not the fluttery feelings or the waves of pity and love that wash over him every time he looks at his face.
The sword rests in his hands. He looks up, still smiling, even if now he's fighting to keep his breath even.
It's okay. I'm not, going to let you hurt, any more. ]
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He holds fast to that look and commits it to memory.
It will be fast. The sword will bite through his neck so quickly he won't even realize it. Another hole through the head for good measure, he'll try to leave it in tact because he can't stomach destroying that face. He focuses on that, not the soft words, not the fluttery feelings or the waves of pity and love that wash over him every time he looks at his face.
The sword rests in his hands. He looks up, still smiling, even if now he's fighting to keep his breath even.
It's okay. I'm not, going to let you hurt, any more. ]