I stared at him. My love. He was so strong. Stronger than me, stronger than anyone could ever be. He stood there, in the middle of that small stage, his arms out to the people, imploring them. Freedom. That was his message. Freedom forever, freedom till death, freedom in death, freedom in life. Freedom. I heard only the rhythm of his words for I was to entranced, to engrossed in this vision of him. My savior. What more beauty could there be than this? What more could one want.
The crowd before him lay silent, like children listening to a story. Some had tears. Not many. People were tired of crying now. So much death had befallen us. Such treachery at the hands of our over lords and so much blood on our hands.
Murmurs rose from the crowd as my love spoke of freedom. No more monarchies. Freedom. He spoke with such passion. I only wished it would not end. It did. It seemed inevitable that this would happen sooner or later. Such an end. So abrupt, as if time came screeching to a halt with that one sound. It was so loud. I thought I might go deaf with the blast of it. After the blast, smoke lingered for a few moments and the room seemed to tremble as the crowd swelled and charged the one who set it off. That one who brought more pain to me than anything I have ever known.
My love fell.
He fell backwards into the arms of his followers. He tumbled. What a shock this was to him. I could see him blinking in disbelief as blood ran down from his shoulder. The cloth draped over his body slowly being stained with his blood. He clutched at the wound and looked into nothingness. He looked into pain, in pain. His eyes danced with it. He looked down at his shoulder where the blood swelled from. Where it stained his beautiful clothes. I have never seen anything red like that. That stark red against the white of his clothes.
I ran to him.
Something caught in my throat. I felt like I was choking as I looked down at him. I was lost in his eyes. Every fiber in me screamed in agony for I saw his pain, his desperate plea for understand. Why? Why had this happened. He reached for me, like a child reaching for his mother and I held his hand. His mouth lay open, as if lost for words. Oh my love, my love. The world spun around me. It seemed as if I were in a trance. I heard nothing of what was going on around me, though I was vaguely aware of shouts and screams from people. They were fighting I think.
A smile came to my loves lips. The smile that I knew so well. It was a smile of terrifying pain. It was the smile that made me let his hand go. He pushed the others around him away as he struggled to rise. Hands reached out to help him. He pushed them away. He rose alone.
ooc continuing my rebelion in india
This NES has done nothing... if not taught me to utterly despise people playing pathetic, hopeless rebel movements...
