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Rocket fell to the ground harshly, landing on his back as his hands flew to the sword above him, the blade cutting into his hand, scratching his prosthetic in the process. Sword stood above him, having initiated the sudden battle, hands wrapped around the hilt as he held a vacant gaze as if he couldn't even see the man below him, arms barely struggling as he tried to shove the blade down to pierce into the body of his lover.
"Sword, what has gotten into you," Rocket begged, a nervous grin on his face as he tried to stall time. "This isn't like you. H-Have I done something recently to upset you? We can talk about this." He winced as the sword cut into his glove, arms shaking as he tried to prevent it from slipping down and plunging into his chest. His weapon has been long-since discarded as it had been kicked away from him, leaving him weak against the stronger Phighter. Sword was always so strong but something about this seemed backed by a stronger force, something stronger than Sword. From below the other, he could observe Sword's physical state - it lacked color aside from the pale purple and blue. Drained of life and seemingly wispy, the wings designated upon his back draped behind him. His armour seemed far more decorative, something true Swords would adorn. His cape hung over his still form and his eyes..
They seemed so dull. He barely moved his eyes when staring down at Rocket, as if he wasn't even sure the Phighter was below him. Sword went off sound and touch as his remaining senses had been dulled by his sacrifice to the powerful Illumina. To become a follower, you must sacrifice everything.
Everything.
Sword's face grimaced in irritation, eyebrows knitting together as his lips parted to speak, "Do not fight this," His voice was stern and yet distant. A followed echo behind his words as if he wasn't the only one speaking. "This shall be easier for you." Sword declared, though hesitation in his words. I'm saving you, Sword wanted to say, Please. Something stopped Sword from opening his lips again. He didn't want this. He didn't want to hurt Rocket. But, his hands were forced before him to act upon this.
Is this what Illumina wanted? To see him suffer? Must he suffer to prove his strength?
Rocket swallowed harshly, hand aching and prosthetic scraping against the metal. He felt the fabric rip and the blood seep through his sleeve, beading down his arm. He wasn't ready to die to the hands of his own lover. The thought never bothered him sometimes but this wasn't Sword, not fully. Rocket never got to tell his friends goodbye or even his father - what would they tell Zuka? How would Zuka react to knowing the man he trusted with his son's life ended that said life in mere seconds?
Any attempt Rocket tried to stall his demise, Sword was growing impatient. His irritation was growing beyond a line he couldn't control. In the last ditch effort for Rocket to try and talk Sword down, Sword gnashed his teeth at the Phighter, "I will slit your throat. That will shut you up." He snapped, causing Rocket to flinch at the sudden aggression. His fear was quickly replaced by some look that Sword could not see.
Rocket cast a smile upward at his lover, even if he couldn't see it, "You look beautiful, cherry." He spoke, voice soft and full of care. The Follower faulted in his movements at these words, donning a look similar to shock.
That shock was momentary. Without Sword moving his hands himself, he plunged the sword down and into the chest of Rocket. There was a choked noise from the Phighter below him and even if Sword couldn't see his face, the visual thought of Rocket's expression made Sword sick.
"I d-didn't think you'd actually.. do it," Rocket laughed, out of breath as blood seeped over the corners of his mouth, his hand falling to his chest as he observed the wound. It was deep, very deep. The sight of the weapon in his chest made him sick. "Maybe this is.. what you needed, right?" Rocket gasped weakly as he tried to remain conscious.
Sword said nothing. He barely moved. With the last energy Rocket could manage, he reached up to touch Sword's face once more.
With his final gasping breaths, he hushed an 'I love you'. Sword paused in his movement, still as a statue as Rocket's hand fell from his face and onto the ground. The metal clattering to the ground drove Sword back to reality, hands barely shaking as he stood to his feet, pulling the blade free from the deceased lover.
The Follower had a meeting to attend. He cast a stare down at where he could assume Rocket's body was before he furrowed his eyebrows and then turned his head away, ignoring the wetness on his cheeks and the tears beading down his face.