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This is a homemade translation of the original french version. Please excuse me in advance for the typos and mistakes and I hope you'll enjoy the story regardless ^^
Warnings: this is a story about loss and death and the melancholy around it. Please don't read if you're not in the mood for it or if you dislike reading about those subjects. Thank you!
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Lying in the bed, even the warmth of the sheets weren't enough to stops her body from cooling down.
For a few days now, she knew she won't survive this new trial life had sent to her. In the hopelessly wet eyes of her partner at her side, she saw her young days again in a sweet melancholy melted with a bitter sadness.
She though of her family who cherished her in her childhood, that she abandoned out of pride to join a group of mercenaries and that she had been ashamed to see again later. An ounce of remorse embraced her when she realized again that, because of her foolishness, she had definitely lost the occasion to hug them again, or even simply the possibility to speak to them. She had no doubt her parents where gone, but of her siblings she didn't know if she will be the first to leave.
A tear fell shyly on the cheek of her partner, as if, to apologize from appearing, she tried vainly to hide her presence in a fast and painful stroke.
The dying women had a slight smile when she leaved her partner's eyes to examine all her face, as she had done more and more lately. She had aged and was dying, but her partner didn't age that much, even if she tried to slightly alter her appearance to give this impression. She kept her finest feature as well as the same insatiable enthusiasm as when they met. Again, she asked herself how a woman that incredible could have stayed with someone as old as her, and a slight pain embraced her again.
For her partner, the life of a mere human must be just a brief instant in her long existence. Normally, mages like her, with an important lifespan, cross centuries without caring about the many death staking their path. They avoid getting close to people, aware of the pain of partings. But, without knowing why, her partner made an exception for her and deviated from her perfect path to take a more tortuous detour.
She knew that, with her, the mage had known unrivalled joys and pains. Although, she never blamed her for this detour in her life. Yet, she had felt the pain the sight of her aging body was inflicting to her each day, putting them both face to face with the contradiction of their existences they though vainly being able to defy in the recklessness of their love.
But, after this interlude, what will she do? The question was haunting the old women as no answer satisfied her. Will she return on the path of isolation or will she take another detour with a different person?
She would have preferred not to think about it. Yet the only answer, that stayed inexorably the same, never ceased to pound mercilessly in her mind. Maybe, she will take the isolation path at first, but, after permitting her mind to forget about her, in a slow agony, she will take a detour again.
The dying women was cursing this fatality and her powerlessness to modify it. She was ranting against her ridiculous existence and her near demise. She wanted to live more. She wanted to selfishly keep this woman on her path, refusing the let her cross another one. She wanted to shout out her rage and made her partner swear an eternal fidelity. But, even if her mind, in a guilty satisfaction, wanted to claim to her this impossible loyalty, her lips never dared to voice these words.
She hated to know it wasn't out of pure goodness she was refusing to ask her to lock herself in an endless struggle. It was simply out of fear to deceive her partner by her despicable selfishness. She refused to leave her after giving her this last image of her.
So, laughing at her own cowardice, and locking as usual her grievances in herself, her lips only voiced sweet words of comfort. But her eyes, also turning wet, betrayed her immense pain as she felt her body falter again.
She plunged her eyes in her partner's for a last journey in what once was her life. Soon, her thoughts will cease to exist, her story as she leaved it, and her memories will fade in an instant. No sensation will come to touch her and her most painful fears, tirelessly assaulting her at the moment, will become nothing.
She knew it was futile and that soon, nothing will matter anymore.
Yet, she wanted to shout out, to live more.
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